We’re not sure that lipstick has ever been so darn lipsticky that gals just can’t be bothered with it any longer, but if Chanel—or rather, the face of Chanel, Vanessa Paradis—says this is the case, so be it. Waging war against this unholy behavior, the company is launching a line of lipsticks called Rouge Coco, designed to ween gloss girls off the wand and back on the tube (hey, we’re talking about cosmetics here, keep it clean). Colors hover in the pink (again, focus) with serious threats of red. $30 each, at department stores this month.
A quick glance at the flacon, half matte white, and you might imagine that Untitled had accidentally rolled through a freshly painted art gallery. A green floral—and Maison Martin Margiela’s first actual perfume—it does, in a way, allude to bare floors and clean starts, minus the latex and toxic heavy metals. True to the designer’s form, it’s a perfume without a blatant manifesto or agenda, soft and intriguing enough to keep you wondering what the blazes is so strange about it? And then you realize it's like a flower child who made a stinging whip from a garland of foliage. €55 to 100 at Colette, and Margiela boutiques this spring.
You may know Tarina Tarantino as the pink-haired L.A. accessories designer who bedazzles the living hell out of hunks of plastic and makes something enormous and gaudy-slash-girly out of it. Her new cosmetics line is no different: tons of eyeshadows, powders creams and glosses that glimmer with blinding brilliance when they cross even a single photon, plus a pearlescent shimmer that comes with an atomizer and a blush that makes you look like you have doll cheeks. You have to admire the dedication to an ethos that’s so over-the-top that it blurs the line between grotesque and cherubic. $17-$69 at Sephora in February.
Something strange happened on the way to these modern times: most of us started equating floral perfumes with fainting couches and, conversely, fragrances with top notes of scorched plastic with empowerment. But now, after a long stretch of silence in the scent department, Balenciaga is releasing Paris, which bridges these two schools of thought. Romantic, woody and slightly bitter, like violets doused with acid rain, the latest from master perfumer Olivier Polge smells like dainty florets of cement candy in grandma’s hand-cut glass bowl. Available next month.
It’s not like the ladies here wish we had five o’clock shadows, but it does seem like fun to lather up our cheeks for beautification purposes. Some foaming masks have come close to fulfilling our frothy-face fantasies, but none are as luxurious as Evidens de Beauté’s Foam Mask (100€). Like meringue made from baby koala bear dreams (or actually, fancy Alpine water, macadamia oil and gentian extract), it gently puffs its way into existence with nothing but goodness. It also comes in a heavy indigo bottle, the kind used to sign important decrees in old-timey times, which makes applying something as fundamentally silly as face mousse feel somewhat noble. The French-Japanese company will branch out into the U.S. throughout this year, so for now, look for it on the website.
Seasonal appropriateness only applies to situations calling for common sense. Sandals in the snow? No, unless you’re not a fan of having toes. That would almost be as insane as coming out with floral fragrances in the winter. Until now, that is, with Gucci's launch of a headier eau de parfum version of Flora, its sparkling flower detonation from last spring, conceived by creative director Frida Giannini. $70 for 1.6 oz at Gucci stores.
Also consider the full range of fragrances from Maison Francis Kurkdjian, all of which are based around plants that bear petals instead of just leaves, and launched when everyone else is rolling out the spice. Besides cologne, the scents come in what almost counts as mixed media: a simple leather bracelet that lasts six months (a play on the poison ring), blowing bubbles, incense papers and fabric softener. $18-$195 at Bergdorf Goodman.
We're multifaceted creatures equally concerned with our own appearance as that of mother earth, but rarely does achieving both goals sync up. Absolution—a range of high-dose vegetal, organic, close-to-zero-fingerprint goodness—includes eight Parisian skincare products that can be blended together for a synergistic, custom experience. And it doesn’t require a daily regimen of raw goji berry and chia-seed porridge for breakfast. Broken down into two simple applications—cleanse, moisturize/treat—the line was founded by a Parisian design agency bigwig, so you won't titter about what a hippie you must be when using it. $45 - $92 on the website or at Mio Mia in Brooklyn.
When economists boast that only 11,000 jobs were lost last month, are we supposed to erupt into twirls of ecstatic joy? Poppy King, the heroine behind Lipstick Queen, has one thing in common with these people: both are glossing the truth to make us feel better. But she’s doing it literally with Fired Up, an ultra-red new lippy applied with a built-in brush ($14). One hundred percent of proceeds go to Count Me In, the leading non-profit for women-owned businesses—and do we really need to remind you of the galactic power of the right shade of red?
Part of the fun when you were a kid was imagining how you’d adorn yourself as a grownup. If you were any fun at all, that involved whimsical little things with sparkles. So now that you’re a grownup, are you going to continue to wear makeup like an adult for the rest of your life? Or are you going to have a good time with Tsumori Chisato's holiday line for Shu Uemura ($36 - $88), inspired by The Little Prince and shimmering like it contains magic dust from Asteroid B-612? Good. From lipstick to blush, eye kit to brush set, these things are so cute you might feel the need to abandon them for their vanity. But remember, in the words of the fox, "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” Even if that’s just a compact full of glitzy powder. At Bergdorf Goodman and Nordstrom.
Gold as skincare “wow factor” ingredient and bees as narrative plot device make us yawn so hard our faces could become black holes. Yet Orlane's new Crème Royale Eye Contour, which is jam-packed with the alchemist’s prize and the scientist-baffling goodness of queen-bee longevity ectoplasm, aka royal jelly, has us wishing for dark circles. After using this pearlescent ritzy meringue, our ocular pads feel as firm and elastic as a backyard trampoline. $300 at Saks Fifth Avenue.