Seeing Red

March 31, 2012

By Brooke Atwood Photography from Hourglass Cosmetics

Lipstick, I love. Now, finding the perfect RED lipstick is an extended amount of love and gratification I feel when I first meet eye to lip with one. My muse this week, radishes along with their many shades of red, inspired my search for finding the perfect tone red lipstick. Wearing red lips for me is a phase I go through, quite similar to my frequent phase of cutting my bangs ever so often. It’s a 100% commitment. Some gals may prefer the new high tech glosses, balms, and/or stains gracing our makeup counters around, I identify with the good ole’ traditional lipstick. Pretty sure I have about ten different shades of reds that have been put through the test. This little guy here from Hourglass, I, of course, am drawn to firstly because of it’s fashionable appearance, secondly it’s non toxic and lead free (per owner of SeeJane, Shelley Smith) AND this lipstick has the perfect moisture and actually stays on without any weird lingering residue.

Nocturnal Femme Rouge Lipstick by Hourglass, $30 from See Jane

More Inspiration

December 14, 2011

Amores Perros (Love’s a Bitch)

Amores Perros (Love’s a Bitch)! Ain’t it the truth…whether you are referencing that head-bangin’ Quiet Riot song from the 80s or something more high brow like the neorealist Mexican film known as the “Mexican Pulp Fiction”—OR—let’s just say these are the very words you shout drunkenly in the streets after a relationship goes awry—you know, the ones when you lay your heart bare, vulnerable to the one you love, only to have it trampled by a pack of metaphorical dogs—perros. Oh, Amores Perros!

December 15, 2014

Cookie Swap: Dude’s Cookies

Recipe and Styling by Libbie Summers from her book Sweet and Vicious (Rizzoli) Photography by Chia Chong Video by Red Velvet Partners and Barrera Productions Model: Cedric Smith Our holiday cookie swap continues with a […]

April 25, 2012

grain-fed

Legs. That’s what they called her. She packed the grinder, her six kids and a bag of barley and headed for a hollow in the hills of Kentucky. Three thousand miles and no food save for some milk souring in her oft-trampled bosom. On arrival, she clamped the metal contraption to a beam that held up the dirt floor cabin, fattened the fire. Her upright children whipped the handle one by one to see who could fill a bread pan full of flour fastest. Pancakes griddled on the wood stove. Legs boiled down sorghum from the cane she had harvested in the fields. After feasting, her heavily biceped offspring hoisted themselves through the glassless windows and leapt into the woods.