Anita Ekberg as a Dolce Vita mermaid, complete with ebony fins.
In my adult life I truly don’t remember such a lovely—or well-earned—spring as the one we’re having. For years New York City has gone from brutally cold to brutally hot with nary a window of mild weather. But we’ve enjoyed nearly a month of it already after our treacherously long winter: the rain is big and headstrong and creatively inspiring; the sun makes a French movie out of a trip to the corner deli. And the thrilling, still-temperate nights render us all a big Fellini blonde splashing in a fountain. Officially I am pleased. Unofficially I am ecstatic.
Here is why I always buy a lipstick when I am in the throes of a serious case of the Mean Reds: Because no matter how broke I am, the highest of high-end lipsticks will prove (vaguely) affordable; because no matter how shabby I’m looking, a lipstick will jazz the joint up; because no matter how vulnerable I’m feeling, a new lipstick will arm me with at least one significant weapon of glamour. Today, it was Dior’s Serum de Rouge in Prune (pictured here on my Mean Red self). J’adore its healing powers.