On Uncertainty, the Perfect Red Lipstick, and Change

Farewell, Rita!

The last time I saw my grandmother before she died she insisted on putting on her red lipstick prior to letting anyone in the house. She felt naked without her lips done, like she wasn’t quite herself. At that point I’d fallen in love with a red lipstick of my own, Rita, a rich, matte red from Nars. Wearing Rita, I imagined I exuded the glitz and glamor of Rita Hayworth, an actress and pin-up girl from the 1940s, even though I looked nothing like the red-head with painted on lips who took Hollywood by storm. 

Rita, for reference.

I don’t remember when exactly I started wearing Rita, but I do know that I wore it at my first wedding in 2012, in the years I dated after my divorce, on my first date with my now-husband Rob, as I struggled to get pregnant, after my daughter Clementine was born. Rita has been with me through career ups and downs, on airplanes and trains and even in dusty tents. I can no longer recall a time that I didn't wear Rita. It’s become my signature, and like my grandmother I never planned to be without it. 

Every once in a while I’ve cheated on Rita with more expensive, “luxe” lipsticks. I stepped out with Tom Ford’s Scarlet Rouge and a Chanel that turned out to be too orange for my liking. I’ve fallen for trends. There’s been lip gloss, lip stain, the lip-cheek combo, the just-bitten lip, lip plumper, lip tint, and even the cashmere sweatpants of lipstick. And yet, I’ve always come back to Rita.

 
But as it turns out nothing in the universe is forever, not even a tried and true lipcolor. Because when I went to the Nars website to buy Rita the other night, I saw a bright, red banner across the page that read: LAST CHANCE. Rita was being discontinued – and it was on sale for half price. I quickly scrambled to put as many tubes into my digital cart as possible, but when I went to check out I was stopped in my tracks. The maximum number I could purchase was four. I exhaled loudly and quickly finished checking out for fear that someone else would snag my haul if I didn’t pay for it pronto.

I then took to the internet to find other Rita obsessives. Reddit threads that in other circumstances I would have considered over the top, now seemed the right amount of upset. “HELP!” one screamed. I kept scurrying down more rabbit holes. Blog posts promised perfect dupes, but I didn’t want a Rita replacement. I wanted the real thing. Others swore that they spoke to a Nars team member and a similar shade would be coming out, albeit not the exact same one I’d loved for almost half my life.

In an email this week updating me on my shipment, Nars promised that my four tubes of Rita are now on the way. But I’m already starting to think about this next phase of my life. What will happen when the final remnants of Rita run out? What will my next perfect shade be? What highs and lows will I experience wearing whatever imposter lipstick I succumb to in those scroll-heavy hours before sleep? 

After my divorce I couldn't conjure an image of what my life would look like. I’d walk through the streets of my new Brooklyn neighborhood and wonder who I’d be in the weeks and months and years to come. The same thing happened on my final full day of pregnancy. What would I be like once I was a mother? What would Ruthie with a baby feel like?

Rob, Clem, Rita, and me. Photo by Jami Saunders Washburn

Now I’m faced with a different kind of threshold. We are on the eve of the most consequential election of my lifetime. My four-year-old daughter may grow up with fewer rights over her body than I did. The hazy, uncertain days and years ahead are like a tunnel that I can’t see my way out of. 

But there’s one thing I do know: I will step into this uncertain future wearing red lipstick. I don’t know what that perfect shade of crimson will be yet, and I don’t know who will be leading our country, but I’ll be ready to fight as if my life, and my daughter’s, and all of our lives depend on it. Because they do.

In community,
Ruthie

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