It’s nice and comforting to have childhood memories about your mother and the bathroom mirror with a few bottles of Paloma Picasso and Laura Biaggiotti Roma on it. There always was an eyeshadow palette and the only red Chanel lipstick for all seasons. It used to be so interesting to dream of growing up so I could have my own boudoir with French lipsticks in hard metal cases and a fluffy powder puff. The lipstick smell used to be the smell of luxury and special occasions; it followed you to the theatre, Christmas dinners, birthday parties and it was ussualy surrounded by other smells of Italian hair wax, ironed shirts and freshly bought flowers.
Frederic Malle Lipstick Rose is much more than a simple smell of a lipstick. The first notes attack you with strong violet petals and a waxy oily rose. The scent immediately reminds of a rich expensive lipstick in a sturdy case with a metal logo on it. One can smell vanilla and lightly salty amber on top, whilst earthy vetiver and a drop of grapefruit are found deeper. Lipstick Rose makes your head spin: after the first powerful blast violets almost fade away and leave you with a stunning soft and smooth rose which gets dryer and more powdery due to clean and crispy musk. The scent isn’t such innocent as it may seem. It’s so femminine it comprehends both woman-as-a-mother and woman-as-a-lover images. It’s an angelic mother’s kiss to a child. It’s Paris in The Roaring Twenties and cinema stars with semi-transparent veils on their eyes, pale skin and shadowy glances.
Frederic Malle Lipstick Rose is a memory of a kiss. On one hand, it’s very intimate and domestic, yet it can be wildly French, vintage and über-modern at the same time. It’s velvety and comforting; it’s painful and farewell. Heartbreaking. Just like a burning nostalgia, a memory of somebody you wanted to be but you would never get there because times have changed and you are not allowed to smoke in bars anymore.