Givenchy Rouge Interdit Satin Lipstick in Elegant Rouge


I was invited to join my friends Bill and Alisa at a gathering at Neue House last week. Alisa is a new mother to an adorable baby boy and it was her first evening out in a while. She has such great style. She wore a black top with black leggings and had a sheer black cocoon jacket on top.

On our way there, Alisa lamented in the car that she had forgotten her makeup bag at her parents' house and had to cobble together a look using a sparse reserve of old cosmetics. When I looked at her at the party, I couldn't help but notice her lips. They looked lush and deeply red–but it wasn't your typical red. It neither retro nor vampy. It was a sophisticated and elusive color that is very hard to describe.

"What is that color?!" I exclaimed, "I must know!"

"Oh, it's this old Givenchy lipstick that I bought three years ago on my birthday," she said, "I have it in my purse. Here, I'll show you."

She pulled out a smooth rectangular black lipstick case with a grosgrain ribbon looped at one end. When pulled, it revealed a silver bullet containing the lipstick itself: Elegant Rouge.

"I bought it more for the packaging than anything else," she admitted, "And it also has this old school lipstick smell. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Oh, yes, of course! I know that smell. It reminds me of my mom."

"I was looking for a brown-red and this one was perfect."

"It really is," I marveled, still gazing at her lips, "Can I try it on in the bathroom?"

"Of course."

I applied it to the center of my top and bottom lips and gently blotted it outward with my finger. It was a rich brown-red with a touch of pink that gave it life. It made my lips look distinctive and seemed to brighten my complexion as well. I was sold. 

The next day, Bill offered to drive me to The Grove so that I could look for it. I found it at Sephora. There was only one left and I nabbed it.



On Traveling Light

It was my second day in Puerto Vallarta. I came down to the pool in the afternoon and saw one of the travel writers from my group stepping out of the water--an older woman who also lives in New York. She waved me over to a lounge chair next to hers. 

"Is your name 'Barbie' or 'Bobbi'?" I asked, unfolding my towel, "I've heard people call you both."

She shook her head, "It's neither. It's 'Babbie.' B-A-B-B-I-E. And it's not a nickname–it's my actual name."

We ordered Sauvignon Blanc and shared a bowl of ceviche with tortilla chips. At one point, Babbie asked me what I was wearing to dinner later that evening. I told her that I hadn't thought about it yet, and that I might just wear the same polo dress that I had worn the night before. "I didn't pack much. I'm the kind of girl who doesn't mind wearing the same dress over and over again," I said, "I think it's the sign of a good dress."

She nodded her head in approval, "You may have packed lighter than I did! I have a story about that. I met Bianca Jagger in Acapulco ages ago. This was before she met Mick. She was being kept by a man who owned a very famous hotel there. She had this black dress. You could tell it was $3,000 and from Paris, like Givenchy or Yves Saint Laurent. Someone must've bought it for her. Anyway, she would wear this dress every single night, and she looked so chic. I couldn't tell you the words we exchanged to each other...But I've always remembered what she wore."