The Bite Beauty Liquefied Lip product definitely shares a chunk of its DNA with ye olde OCC Lip Tars, both featuring plant oil-dominated formulas (you can taste the peppermint in both) and heavy pigmentation.  But I feel as though the former has learned from the latter's mistakes; the Bite stuff is more successfully emulsified slash homogenous and thusly far less prone to bleeding and separation on the lip, with bonus lack of Mentha burn.  It is relatively thick and comfortably emollient in a very smooth, sort of syrupy way, curiously unlike a conventional lipgloss.  I fucking detest lipgloss but am perfectly happy to wear this stuff, if that helps differentiate shit for you.  

For a long time, I did not care for the concept of liquid lipstick, per se.  All those rubbery, cod-pucker hosebeasts on the social in their exhaust-fume nudes looked like they would bust something if they sneezed, for one thing.  That, and the colours and finish were not worth the trauma of those abysmal early formulas.  But then Bite Beauty put some out, I caved like a bitch and now I own about eight of the damn things. 

My initial delving into this genre were Clove and Arrowroot from the Spice Things Up collection.  Yes, I know these were LE but they're still pretty gettable online.  I'll talk about the formula first since it applies to all the liquid shades I've acquired thus far. 

The pigment is magically trapped within the emulsion in a manner that is somewhat miraculous.  Clove is the only one I've found requires a bit of work with the wand  (which is quite adequate for all but the most sharply-detailed application) to stretch out over the lip languorously and come together into 80-90% opacity, which can be backed off to less than half strength without losing a meaningful version of the individual shades.

It's also almost supernaturally durable for such a glippy (Glippy: |ˈglɪpy| noun, informal: a quality comprising equal parts gloss and grease; e.g that stuff is really fucking glippy, don't get it on the pillowcase or I'll put your bollocks in an omelette.) product, going on though lunch with just a few lip smacks to put it right.  The formula's only downsides are the tendency of all such substances to collect chunks of detritus on one's gob, and for the clear oils to bleed slightly from the screw cap of the tube when laid flat.

Arrowroot is less glossy and more evenly opaque initially, wearing exceptionally well though it is a little less sophisticated for that monotonality.  It is a bright, true yellow-based ochre and, as you can probably see from the pics, that is a borderline challenging aesthetic, so don't pick it up thinking you're getting a quiet neutral.  Bite Clementine is a true clean orange, for comparison.

Arrowroot is what it is; it won't really bend to suit your personal tonalities and will fight with dark/cool lip skin.  It's probably a niche prospect for most and a dodgy one for me, but I love its militant pumpkin realness.

Xmas came early for me this year after a kindly reader, Carole in Canada, sent me an incredibly generous bounty of Nars and Bite Beauty goodies, purely out of the goodness of her heart.  That shit doesn't happen every day, let me tell you, so I'm going to review my favourite of the bunch, Nars Audacious Marlene.  Thanks, Carole!

You may have noted that I am a bit of a fucking Nars superfan but this enthusiasm is based strictly on an overwhelmingly positive experience of the brand.  In particular, I don't think I've ever met a Nars Audacious shade I didn't like, and Marlene is no exception to that unblemished record.  

Marlene is a warm, bricky red, the colour of a really good tomato soup or a pile of cayenne pepper, rich and dense with a strong orange undertone.  Once again, Nars pulls off the impossible by creating a hot red that doesn't look like something stuck to Imelda Marcos' or Pennywise's teeth in 1978. You have got to respect that. 

It is loud, but in a RuPaul sort of way; there is great art and finesse in its brilliant volume.  Furthermore, there is a strongly organic quality to Marlene's bigness, which is probably why it's so successful aesthetically.  It is the queen of all the ocherous reds I've tried thus far, pulling in the best elements of capsicum, brick dust, vermillion lacquer, blood orange, volcanic mud and hot sauce.

Despite all those descriptors I wouldn't really call this shade dirty, for the same reason it's not really retro or vintage looking either; that deep twist to its incredible saturation keeps it strangely contemporary.

The Audacious range features a number of different finishes, with this shade representing its most creamy and opaque manifestation.  Marlene applies like warm butter, spreading easily right from that nice fat bullet without feeling greasy or slippery, pretty much cancelling out the influence of your native lip colour, which is always a blessing.

​It doesn't thin out, even with vigorous redistribution, nor does it really dry down, retaining its supremely comfortable satiny finish that is tenacious enough to live through hot drinks and a light meal without wandering into any old bag wrinkles or doing that greasy breakdown thing.  It's lasting and reliable.

You might be able to perceive the overwhelming nature of this shade's pigmentation and opacity in the palm swatches below.  Sheer it is not.

MAC Marrakesh is one of those classic low-key shades that swing in and out of favour, in a cycle driven by forces I do not understand.  

This mysterious oscillation seems to be linked to availability; MAC's production and stocking decisions also surpasseth understanding.  I don't know if Marrakesh has been discontinued.  It was absent from most MAC stores in New Zealand last time I went looking and was appearing for WTF prices on auction sites.  I panic-bought in case it slipped away into the ages before having a chance to gather dupe-dust in the heaving bosom of my collection.

MAC has an annoying habit of yanking historical stalwarts from its permanent lines without replacing them with improved versions.  I feel personally disrespected every time that happens. And it's not that I'm a longtime stan of this shade; this is my first tube of Marrakesh, even though it be an original gangster.

Just one caveat: I bought my stick from an Indian lady who didn't think it suited her, and I see how that could happen.  Some mid-brown or golden complexions with strong undertones will, counterintuitively, clash with this saturated ochre.

Texturally, it's thick and saturated, so no whacky naked lip tones can piss in its lemonade, and while designated matte, Marrakesh is not 100% flat and retains just enough low lustre to remain comfortable and flattering to most.  There are really no technical failures to report; two thumbs up for onsite performance.

I was surprised at Marrakesh's singularity and realise now why some may be hyperventilating at the prospect of it being decommissioned. I don't own any true dupes.  

So what is it, even?  Marrakesh has been called virtually everything online, from 'bright red' to 'dark brown'.  I don't know where or how these people find their descriptors, but they need to step their shit up and invest in a fucking dictionary and/or colour wheel.  Marrakesh is a warm medium yellow brown.  It reminds me of the dense bauxite-laden soils you find in tropical Australia and Africa, especially after rain.  Or the rich ochre of cave and bark paintings.  The paprika dusted on your baked potatoes.  Rust streaks on ship steel.  In fact, that's exactly what Marrakesh is- rust, pure and simple. 

Colours found abundantly in nature are often our best friends.  It matters not where on the light/dark spectrum your face falls; Marrakesh is something you should try at least once.  You might think you're too cool or too blue, tonally speaking, but the opposing values in this shade can bring a fingerclick of drama to a look that needs a twist. 

François Nars and his henchpeople know their shit. In a market saturated with every imaginable thematic variation, they remain colourists par excellence.  Every time I think I've seen everything a shade can possibly offer, they boop out something like Mysterious Red and spank me with the broom I flew in on.

Colours are difficult.  Ask anyone who routinely makes stuff from scratch. That the Nars talent pool can afford to toss off something like Lonely Heart with so little fanfare is frankly amazing; other brands would blow their sphincters and build a collection around this shade.  For Nars, it's just... tuesday.  Respect.  

​I was thrilled to find Lonely Heart far more beautiful than it appeared online. Its singularity really fed into my current obsession with dark, haute neutrals.

Brown's haters need to build a bridge and move on to a higher taste level, quite frankly.  Lonely Heart awaits them, a coolish, slightly dusty true brown in which the ghosts of cinnamon and violet mingle; charred rosewood, if we're to get specific.

As a shade, it is stunningly nuanced.  Just as Nars Train Bleu is purple done right for anyone over 25, Lonely Heart is the apotheosis, the very pinnacle of brown; deep, aloof, nocturnal.  It references all those things in nature that please us- temple timbers, dried spices, autumnal dusk, a shadowed  iris.  Darker lips just pull out the violet tones a little more.  Sigh!

Imagine how Puccini-tragic it was to discover its in-situ behaviour was nowhere as stellar as its imperial tonality.  Comment osez-vous, François!  Je suis devastate.

< The neutral light in the left palm swatch represents it most accurately.

​Don't get me wrong, Lonely Heart applies initially with the typical, startling ease of most Velvet Mattes, stroking over your edges like a dream.  The trouble starts with infill and building.  It won't layer up without clumping and skipping out.  Just when you think you might have achieved a passable application, you move into better light and see that the devil might as well have used your piehole as an ashtray.  

​My god, the frustration.

One of the bad things about crowning a favourite lipstick line queen in your heart when you live in NZ is the knowledge that it will inevitably be based in some distant, uncaring land.  Damn your Canadian eyes, Bite Beauty.  You forced me give my personal details to that spammy, bloodsucking omnisquid Sephora, a concession I already regret.

Optimal spreadability straight from the tube can be a little temperature-dependant with the denser titles in this formula, but I find Crushed Chili only needs a wee bit of finger work around the edges to achieve perfection.  It's a creamy dream with any sort of brush, applying like the best sort of expensive interior paint to dress the lips in clinging, pliant russet goodness.

How Bite achieves such durability with such a satiny texture is a question for the ages, but Crushed Chili settles down immediately and stays put through hours of lipstick-munting activity.  It clings.  I'm guessing that mysterious density doesn't so much resist wear as appear unperturbed until the last molecule is gone.  Without bleeding or settling into those disgusting fudge-clumps that so many other deep, earthy shades are reduced to.  It's fucking supernatural.

The finish is a very stable, flattering and consistent low satin.  While it may not be as glossy as these sun-warmed product shots imply, CC is still a few degrees away from what I'd class as semi-matte.  You can blot it off for a flatter look and that works too.

​Everyone knows MAC Chili; if you boiled that guy down, caramelising it, and added a splodge of tomato relish, you'd get Crushed Chili.  They're made of the same components, although the former is obviously yellower and lighter.  I'd call CC a slightly muted maple-russet, perhaps with some nutmeg grated into it.  MAC Spice It Up is probably the closest thing I own, but it's a Lustre, a great deal shinier and far less opaque under normal circumstances.  Nars Golshan is slightly redder but lies in the same vein.  

​It's a high rotation colour fam for me and I have a version in virtually every known finish.  Look into some reddish ochres today, brunette bitches.  They are intensely beautifying.  

Overall, it's pretty impossible to fault Crushed Chili, and lord knows I try to pop some shit on most things.  The price and availability aren't super-optimal, plus it's an LE so snatch it while you can; those bits suck, for sure.  That's all the nits picked.

It's about time some big baddies like Nars Train Bleu got the review attention they deserve, so here I go.  

It's timely too, what with the most important hemisphere heading into winter.  Not that seasonality ever influences my choice of lipstick and I don't know why it ever would; do we wear blue on rainy days?  Yellow on sunny ones?  I mean, my mental health wouldn't win any fucking ribbons, but I'd probably check myself in somewhere if I started that shit.  Consider blackened shades in spring, if you are heading in that climatic direction. People may wonder about you, but so they fucking should.

There's no real point in making lipstick any darker than Train Bleu, because the intensive opacity just eats light and registers as black to the human eye.  At full thickness, TB is an inky elderberry syrup or deeply-stewed blueberry when lit, and fully black with a grape skin margin in any kind of tilt or shadow.  

But you don't need to go all tits-out with this colour.  Because of the fabulous Velvet Matte formula, you can draw it on at half strength and rock a more visibly blue-dominant purple without looking like lead poisoning, I promise.

Do you still use much Urban Decay? You won't find a better eyeliner; take that from someone who's slapped on and scrubbed off a bathtub's worth of the shit in her many, many years of dramatic eye business.  But even this somewhat nostalgic crone thinks they need to move on from the anachronistic elements in their branding and perhaps cool it with the endless reiterative palettes of increasingly unpredictable quality.

All negging aside, there was a reason the most demanding demographics clasped the brand to their bosoms back in the day; UD stirred the chronically underserved freak aesthetic into superlative formulations better than anyone else, aside from the more obscure theatre brands.

They're still moving shit forward and largely eschewing that whole personality-centric promotional thing (cue cat retching gif).  As far as I'm concerned, the only bitch qualified to have their name on a fucking lipstick is Tim Curry.  Or Fat Bob.

Please ignore the furriness apparent in these bullet pics; I lazily wiped a tissue over it and that's why it looks like it was dragged through a hedge backwards.

I bought MrsMW after falling for all the usual beauty-related honeytrap shit.  Namely, being assured it was that one death-dealing red to rule them all.  Imagine: settling on one shade, buying ten tubes and finally being able to rest.  This prospect was bolstered by Mrs MW's online pics (even though I know most of them are pure, unrepresentative garbage).  And then of course we have the ruinous, sirenic allure of discontinuity.  However tragically cognate they may seem, unavailability and awesomeness are unrelated values and at least 50% of my discont' buys have been duds.  I know it, you know it.

​I bought it anyway.  So I'm sorry to report the inevitable truth; slapped on conventionally, MrsMW doesn't offer a shit tonne of distinction.  

Celebrity endorsement is a double edged sword. Not everyone itching to spend the last thirty two bucks in their account on makeup is a breathless starfucker.  Having long-despised both Tarantino (more cat retching) and the titular character, I had to step over my loathing of the wretched subcult surrounding them to buy this shade.  

​This is the initial Revolution LE Mrs Mia Wallace release in the purple bullet and it's difficult to ascertain if there's much difference between it and the later Vice version.  The OG one seems to go for a lot of $ on eBay for something that's still ostensibly available, so draw your own conclusions.

For a long time I have treasured the idea that Nars Dolce Vita is the deep, warm mallow pink that looks good on absolutely everyone.  A few people have since assured me that they look like smacked arse in this shade, but I wonder if they aren't just a bit affronted by this kind of strength in a pink.  Imma stick with Dolce Vita as my universal white-to-medium-brown person recommendation.

Moving on to the Velvet Matte.  The Nars VMs are probably the most consistently wearable of the truly matte pencils in my humble opinion, and Dolce Vita is among the nicest of the lot, comfort-wise.  That soft, fudgey, sun-warmed mouthfeel is always welcome, and the syrupy, condensed, Venetian afternoon pink actually evokes an emotional response in my swampy old heart, always making me feel happier and less of a fucking ogre when I'm having a bad face day.  Dolce Vita is a truly romantic shade, sweet and rich, graphic enough save a red lip fiend from feeling naked and modest enough to keep a more basic unit from fainting at the prospect of visible colour. ​ I wouldn't be without it.

​Shade-wise, it's essentially timeless, neither young nor mature, vintage nor modern, and I think it looks just as nice on a cool face as someone with yellow tones.  Unsurprisingly, it is the perfect compliment to a brown-based smoky eye or a simple black wing.  ​​

The palm swatch above tells the story of the different versions' respective opacities.  The pencil is 95% opaque but retains good workability; I can easily sheer it out and smudge it for a long time after application.  It's a definite matte but never dries down into parched oblivion, remaining supple enough to be touched up without caking.  Don't be fooled by the look of the bullet to the right there; the lipstick comes in at a paltry 10% (maxed out) by comparison, as you can see on my palm and in the lineup swatches below.  

Yes that is a ghetto manicure; I know better and should do better but I have a massive garden and no help.  Assistant weeders always welcome.

Normally I would have moved such a low-clout lipstick on, but I keep the sheer DV because it offers amendment of the pencil shade and just because I enjoy the soothing feel of its quality formulation.  I wouldn't buy it again but it might become an OG option for the pigment-phobic.

Dolce Vita is an essential staple so just try it, goddamit.

L2R, MAC unless stated:
​
​Russian Red
Nars Dolce Vita Velvet Matte Pencil
Dolce Vita Sheer Tube Lipstick
Brick O La
Nars Walkyrie
Aim To Please Velvetease Pencil 
Hot Tahiti
Natual light, indoor and out.

A big magenta carries the same mana as a classic red; assertive, trend-resistant and cross-seasonal.  Few shades are as explicitly beautifying.  It embiggens your eye colour and can even make a shitty dye job look better (I should know).  

​Janet is magenta done right; a rich, vivid and joyous embodiment of all those good things.  

I know what you're thinking.  But I already have MAC Show Orchid and that's my pinky blue OG!  

​Is it, though?  The various Nars ranges have weaned me off many of my former MAC and UD favourites.  I may be aging out of the latters' target demo but I'm also a lot more fucking discerning these days and all those trashy sentimental favourites seem to have lost much of their charm.  

​It comes down to comprehensive quality.  On the face, Show Orchid and her slew of UD equivalents look so shrieking, greasy and candied beside Janet. SO is more fuchsia, to be sure, but one is strong and the others are just... loud.  I'm reminded of the difference between PJ Harvey and Courtney Love. 

I didn't realise just how many iterations of this deep magenta I already owned before buying yet another one.  There is no end to my depravity.  ​

At this point I should caution that it is ubermeta-awesome on the right face.  Just like a bold red, fuchsia-magenta can veer hard into visual nails/chalkboard territory when it's smooshed where it don't belong.  The more strident and less balanced the shade, the greater the potential for horror.  A blue pearl ups the hazard level even further; MAC Violetta on just about anyone is a perfect example of this gruesome phenomenon.

Quality, bitches.  Quality.
​
I was fortunate to strike an overcast day to photograph this shade as direct sunlight blows it out of gamut.  These pics are pretty accurate, recording the temperature shift away from pink with the change in light.  Note the strong blue cast apparent in the bullet shot to the left there.  

This blue derives almost entirely in the pearl itself which is milled down to the kind of powdery nothingness that eliminates any gritty mouthfeel or impression of glitter, providing a moderate serving of violet duochrome over the true magenta base.  ​It may be hard to imagine, but this is a relatively sophisticated look, rooted in the careful selection of the two adjacent shades- that vital thing other, lesser versions get wrong.

For the uninitiated, Bite Beauty's Luminous Creme is, broadly speaking, forgiving and wearable in contrast to their more matte/saturated Amuse Bouche and Crayon product.  It's a formula for people who sort of hate lipstick but are trying to get into it, out of boredom or a sincere desire to reform their homely ways or whatever.  Easy to apply, delightful to wear and unlikely to inspire fear in the unwary.

So: Cin Cin.  It's the gelato-gingery-orangey one in these pics.  I've been wearing it a lot since I took them, which is something of a surprise as it's not a massive shade.

Like almost all Bite product, Cin Cin is a pliant, non-feathering dream to wear with far longer persistence than you might expect from this kind of formula.

On to Vento.  I'm just going to say right now that this shade could not look more fucked on my face if it consented to some sort of whole-Smurf-village gangbang.  We may not be simpatico but I will put on my objectivity cap and review it in that noble light.  

Though it is a wee bit difficult to accurately represent, we are dealing with a light-medium, blue-leaning rose pink satin and a moderate degree of translucency (think MAC Lustre).

​Vento is not quite as ghostly-pastel as it may appear against my pasty hand, so subtract a wee bit of the white cast and take your lip colour into account.  It'll still look like this to varying degrees though- it is definitely a thing for arctic blondes, ash-kissed brunettes and lovers of soft-focus, just because it's so modest and blue-leaning.  

Note the caveat, though.  Tannin's vague translucence means this shade is subject to variables, according to the nature of the light, thickness of application and especially your own underlying colours.  If you're lucky, you'll get that dreamy sanguine warmth infused with a suggestion of syrupy tomato and rose-jam.  But for some, Tannin will show a more generic face, rendering as a straight-up, albeit high quality, dark raspberry, which is nice enough, even if the magic does miss you.

On my dark, bare lips, I get a warmer, murkier, more painterly look than I do when applying over something like UD lip primer. 

Tannin's x factor lies in both its gorgeous, almost fevered depth of colour and luscious texture.  It's weird how rarely those two things go together, even in this day and age.  Online images don't really do this shade justice because it's one of those reds that looks somewhat pedestrian to the camera sensor- the human eye is far more sensitive to the nuances that make it great, so it's easier to describe than to accurately depict.  Tannin is a deep, slightly debauched, burnt-jam red with a puff of smoke blown over it, just 'off-clean' if you know what I mean.  Sauce, coulis and reduction are the words that come to mind; on the right mouth, it is luscious and arresting, overwrought and juicy as only this Bite formula can be.  

You might have gathered that I personally adore Tannin almost unreasonably but I'm trying hard not to let that bias my assessment.  So- downsides? Given that they are devoid of a lot of the nastier preservative crud etc. found in mainstream products, Bite sticks can be a wee bit susceptible to heat and humidity fluctuations, both in the tube and on the lip.  Deep in the arsecrack of a disgustingly hot summer, I noticed that greasiness can surface under trying conditions. Thus Tannin can be a tad mobile on the lip when worn heavily and can also skip the centre, which is annoying if your lips are somewhat poofey and turned out like mine.  I use a brush when this is happening.  It might possibly bleed on someone especially prone to that issue, but I have old-lady lines and don't experience any problems.  

Finish-wise, there is a plumping, satiny lustre, heightening to medium glossiness depending one how much you pile on.  It is very comfortable to wear and deliciously hydrating.  There is a hint of sweet flavour and a fruity scent; they aren't grotesquely synthetic and don't bother me.  

I have no knowledge of James Kaliardos but whoever he is- bitch knows his lipstick.  Bloodstone is an Amplified Creme (the BEST MAC formula), a glorious rose red that slides onto your mouth like scarlet-scaled serpent and blesses your lips with a juicy slash of high vinyl polish, church window colour and outrageous comfort.  Can you believe no one is paying me to say that about their shit?

With this kind of high shine you're usually risking line bleeds and migration but Bloodstone defies physics to stay put even on my old trout pout, plumping my shit up and knocking the yellow out of my teeth.  It's what I always wanted MAC Red to be; a wig-snatching classic cool red without any nasty formula fails.  

MAC Bloodstone (James Kaliardos 2017) is the kind of thing that deserves a place in an ancient royal burial, along with golden torques and silver cauldrons and majestic fur robes.  It is visual consommé.  Sexual chocolate.  Luxury embodied.  I barely knew I was alive until our paths crossed.

It reminds me somewhat of True Love's Kiss, another MAC LE from a few years back which I enjoyed. Bloodstone is definitely a superior rendition, being glossier, more intense and just more generally fabulous.  Red OG Guerlain Garçonne is a first cousin, if a little warmer.

A light application will get you a deep pink rose with a sort of casual 80% opacity.  Keep building and the pink drops right away, flipping Bloodstone over into a vibrant royal ruby with a wet lustre.  The texture is sublime; butter-smooth, balm-like and intensely flattering, depositing colour so evenly that you'll scarcely believe your eyes. A super-fine blue/purple micro pearl is apparent in the tube and these sunlit shots, but I don't see it on the lip.  

MAC Jasper (same collection) will be a slightly more difficult proposition for many. Personally, I'm enjoying its bang-on rendering of that most elusive of shades: dried, weathered blood with slightly ashy/neutral undertones. A sombre, complex raisiny sort of thing. If that doesn't sound like your sort of shit, I won't argue; it's fabulous on some, not so much on others.  You probably already know which camp you belong to.  It's aiight on me; I love a deep bruisy lip and have enough cool tones to make it work. Yellow/bronzy types will probably find it too corpsey.

I experience no bleeding and pretty extended wear, even after hot food.  My boofy lips tend to lose lipstick from their midst and if Jasper suffers a wee bit in this respect after a while, it's still better than most deep shades.  It is more forgiving to rough/chapped mouths than you might expect but don't expect actual hydration- these dark dyes are drying. That's just how they roll.

You might see some vague brown happening if your display is a bit aged or poorly-calibrated; compare it to Nars Deborah, the true brown in the swatches, and you'll see they have nothing in common.  Old rose enthusiasts will recognise Jasper's dusty, sun-baked Gallica petal tonalities and it is this organic element that elevates it above its duller, less sophisticated contemporaries.  Jasper is more adult than you might suspect, attributable to both its deft colour balance and Satin formulation.  I love a gothy matte as much as the next person but I think we can all acknowledge their chalky shortcomings; this guy dries down to near-flatness without making one's lips feel like they DIAF.  Nor do the pigments clag up and separate; Jasper is a hundred times more wearable in really real life than your average port/tannic/charred situation.  Fucking yay.

MAC Aim To Please Velvetease pencil.  I was keen to know if this line would approach the quality of the Nars Velvet Mattes that have long been my favourite pencils.  My only pissiness with the latter is the dreadful need to sharpen; I get around this inconvenience by dabbing the shaved curl back onto the remaining pencil because I am a ridiculous tightarse, but it still irks.

Let's go right for the practicality jugular.  MAC Velvetease pencils are wind-up and in theory this is obviously preferable to a conventional fixed crayon-style presentation.  

The sight of all that expensive product falling away into oblivion from a sharpener, like tears in rain, is always a stab straight to the thrifty, beauty-conscious ventricle.  But not all winding pencils are created equal, as you probably know by now.  This Velvetease pencil winds up and down pretty well without wobbles or skidding so no complaints in that direction. The stick of product is thick enough to withstand the pressures of said motion and the housing is pleasant enough, a silver-flecked plastic that feels neither cheap nor flimsy.  I'm not embarrassed to produce it in public.  The lid stays on in one's bag or pocket.  It doesn't melt like butter between thunder thighs or turn into octogenarian candle wax three days after purchase.

Let's get my one lonely objection to this item out of the way first.
​I haaaaaate the broad squared-off tip shape.  ​Hate it.

I might be the only one left in the slap-wearing world who had never worn an Hourglass product until very recently.

To my mature, somewhat jaded eye, there's always been something... nonessential about the brand.  It's so moyen.  Mid-price, allegedly mid-performing, middling colours... I was never inspired to try it until someone dangled an Hourglass red in front of my nose for cheap.  Snapped at it like a great white at whale fat.  And I'm glad I did.

Shade-wise, it's a near dupe of Nars Heat Wave with its cheeky hit of mellony coral, though the texture is softer and looser, spreading a little more easily and furnishing impressive lip-comfort.  Do you need both of them?  Probably not.  Raven is the one I'd recommend to the general population as it is slightly glossier, a bit more deeply red and definitely more glassily translucent, allowing you to adjust the level of colour to something you are comfortable with. 

This sort of red so often inspires an extreme love/hate response and I used to be on the hard-no end of that spectrum until I discovered that it's far more wearable if you avoid the thick matte versions.  For this reason, Raven is infinitely more doable than MAC Lady Danger and other such one-note traffic cone business. 

By now I'm on the record as loving almost everything about Bite Beauty lipsticks, from the delicious packaging (exhibit A at right there) to the high-quality ingredients and plain old performance.  The only thing I don't enjoy is the outlay; down here in NZ, we pay around $40 for a full sized lipstick plus postage, and that's painful.

So bless these little Amuse Bouche units and their more modest price point.  They're around half the size of a regular tube but let's be honest- how many shades have you legit worn down to the bone before you tired of them?  Lipsticks are the other risky hookup; you have to tongue a lot of dross to find the classic keepers, so it's best not to invest too much in randoms.

Bite Liquorice is a deep, velvety blackened red with a surprisingly traditional matte finish that is somewhat uncharacteristic of the brand, at least in my experience.

Other Bite stuff claims matte territory but they're usually more medium satin if truth be strictly told; for me, Liquorice is the first to nudge that designation almost literally, at least when brushed on and especially after 20 mins.  It certainly dries down.  Not saying we're in MAC Retro Matte country but many casual punters may not appreciate the loss of that supple emollience they're expecting from this brand.  

Shade-wise, Liquorice is a wee bit polymorphic, shifting from a deep cherry with slight rosy blue tones toward the proper oxblood of the official description in some lights, becoming truly sanguine.  Sometimes there is brown involved, sometimes there is not.  From the online pics I thought we'd be looking at more of a Nars Cruella/MAC Dubonnet-type warm red.  Dark, dirty garnet is what you get instead, both in the tube and on the lip.

Excuse my hyperbolic outrage but there is no excuse at all for shitty lipstick in this day and age, when even budget brands can achieve perfectly acceptable results.  And from what I gather, the Paula's Choice line isn't even cheap, which astounded me because I was thinking this had to be a single figure outlay situation.

Chromatically, Currant is a hard, cheap-looking plasticky red, tainted with that offensive 80's pinkishness that we seniors just could not escape back in the day, but my dislike isn't merely associative.  The shade is objectively gauche, especially in direct sunlight which really plays up its ugly monotonality.  It's the kind of thing Barbie would wear if she wanted to leave a tide mark on Ken's junk hump.  Pageant red.  Cosplay red.  Shudder.

​Bite Pomegranate seems fairly twinsy in the sunlit pics but note how the latter backs up the saturation with an appropriate level of opacity and tweaks it slightly warmer, creating a much more wearable and sophisticated shade.  I love Pomegranate and detest Currant, if that's enough anecdotal differentiation for you.

I don't know anything about Paula's Choice and to cut a short story even shorter, I don't give enough of a shit to research it.  I have somehow ambiently deduced that it's mid-end personality-based shiz blah blah blah headbutts table in rigid dribbling stupor.  

Do I sound unenthusiastic?  Because I am. Unethusiastic.  About Paula's Choice Berry & Bright lip crayon in Currant.  Which feels a bit strange because I haven't actively hated a lip product in quite a long time.  

​There is plenty to dislike, though, starting with the phrase Berry & Bright, which makes me emit cobra noises.  Currant is a totally inaccurate descriptor and I hate that too.  Also hate the fat, half-sparkly, busted-arse Xanadu-looking mofo of a crayon quite passionately and am unwilling to be seen with it in public.  

​If a fly-spotted yellowing plastic makeup stand in a crappy small town chemist circa 1985 could talk, it would say Paula's Choice Berry & Bright in a croaking smoker's baritone, and probably wipe its nose on its sleeve.

Currant goes on unpleasantly, building from icky-pink to Snow White (polyester version) red.  The thick kidney fat texture and persisting stickiness create a contact/transfer nightmare and feel like last night's cold chip grease stuck to your lips.  I will very occasionally tolerate a gruesome formula for the sake of hot colour payoff, but there's no gold at the end of this rainbow; you just feel like you can taste where the leprechauns were sitting.

If I absolutely had to say something nice, I could admit I was bracing for Currant to smell like wet dog and it did not.  The pencil winds up which means, well, less waste.  It doesn't bleed, I'll give it that.  

But no, you're not imagining things; there really are horrid knobby hentai-esque blobs of embedded wax (christ I hope that is wax) in the midst of the product.  They're hard and sort of scratchy.

Are you decrepit enough to remember getting those American sultanas in the tiny little cardboard boxes as part of your school lunch?  Back when food came from trees instead of being popped out of moulds?  MAC Spice It Up is quite a bit like those delicious things; nostalgic.  Sweetish. Caramelised and brownish.  Something you don't think you're really in the mood for... until you partake, and then you can't put the damn thing down.  

Spice It Up was something I picked up entirely on spec since no real buzz regarding it had ever come my way. I can't decide if it's just that zero-expectation halo around these obscure, unfashionable MAC shades or their genuine intrinsic awesomeness that makes them so appealing, but SIU has definitely settled into high rotation.

That's in spite of it hailing from the much-reviled MAC Lustre stable, that bastion of lip-fucking, mouth-fleeing three minute wonders that I'm hardly alone in hating.  Impressive.

All this is assuming moderate lip pigmentation in the potential subject (i.e. you).  That's probably the most important thing to consider about  Lustres and their ilk- your mouth is the X factor.

We're looking at a medium nutty raisin shade, which sounds warm and brown but really isn't that simple- SIU is neutral at best and actually leans cool.  

Smoothing it over one's hand reveals those secretive notes that make it far more of a success on the lip than may be implied by any verbal description. Hints of aged mahogany red and wine pink lurking in the undertones are elevating, prettifying elements.  No matter how hard you slap it on, SIU won't take you to clown town or Instaho alley, but it will deliver something of more lasting value- subtle, tinted contrast. The elusive 'half look' that understudies a dramatic eye or just rubs the ashy horror off a generally dismal face situation.  It is remediation for dummies.  A 10 second morale-boost when you just can't be arsed to do anything else.

A thin, finger-type application yields the ye olde, half-shadowed scarlet implied by its name.  It's quite clean and simple at this intensity.  Pile more on and it will take you deeper, dropping down into dramatic teak-burnished depths that set it apart from the basic-red herd and expand Vintage's appeal across the complexion spectrum.  It's not as overtly grungy as MAC VG 1 or Dubonnet, but that moderate dirty undertone means virtually anyone with the inclination can wear this colour successfully (it's more apparent on the lip and with a bit of wear than in swatches).

​Vintage turns your whole face into a lip situation, the sort of red that outcompetes/minimises dermal annoyances like broken veins and recent zit scars etc.  It retains the laid-back, mid-life vinyl sheen level visible in these images, a flattering lustre that emphasises lip architecture without making one look deranged or inflatable.  It's a classic stunner that I cannot fault, aesthetically speaking.  

And now for the bad news.

​Despite OCC's extremely commendable ethical stance (they're vegan and cruelty-free), I've disposed of a number of lip tars in impulsive disgust at their general performance.  The older tube stock is a bitch to apply, even with the quite-nice OCC brush, and necessitate an annoying level of brush hygiene.  I really don't know how the new doe foot applicator will do much better given the texture, but I haven't tried it yet.  That legendary pigmentation (and it is fabulous... except when it isn't) means controlling the intensity can be a frustrating exercise.  Different shades and even batches seem to offer wildly different performance; SuperNSFW was a stubbornly separated, underpowered mess, Traffic was a greasy, patchy nightmare and Electric Grandma?  That shit desiccated my lips like some sort of hungry vampire (peppermint oil can counterintuitively suck the life out of your lip skin).  

​As you can probably see, this stuff is oil-borne, seriously liquid and virtually nothing you can do will change that.  Anything more than the lightest application will seep outward, smudging that hypermassive pigmentation into corners you didn't know you had and staining like fucking stigmata.

It was probably dumb and certainly lazy of me to hold off reviewing an OCC Lip Tar until they repackaged the damn things.  But no reformulations were proclaimed so my observations are still relevant.  

I've long entertained a looove/haaaate relationship with this product.  Let's go with the positives first up.  Generally speaking, the shades themselves are nothing short of purring glamour in liquid form; I delight in their high drag quotient and unreservedly adore their indefatigable intensity.  

​Vintage is no exception, exiting the tube as a thick bead of deep, arresting sanguine.  It is a medium-dark; lightly smoked red.  A sunbaked blood red.  Chocolate cake smashed into raspberry sauce red.  I can't think of another iteration of this shade that delivers quite so much boiled-down, cacao-ruby goodness, except perhaps its stablemate, that mighty bitch Stalker.  

Without hardcore priming, Vintage will absolutely bleed, whether you're young, old, wrinkly or pristine.  Check it out on my hand in the pic overhead; its already packed its bags and headed off in every diddly doodly direction after 30 seconds.
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I use heavy-duty stick primers like UD Ultimate Ozone and the ELF stuff (both reviewed here) to keep Vintage from wandering.  It's just a shame these stodgy products somewhat mattify and diminish this lip tar's virgin beauty.

Though I love the Nars Pure Matte line, Moscow held me at bay until recently.  So many people have called it so many diametrically-opposed things; definitely red, not red at all, bright, deep, muted, dramatic; it's like everyone was just going off something their sister's best friend's cousin told this guy they knew.  Lipstick lovers- we can do better.  

​I'll have a go right now. 

I wouldn't call Moscow too much in any direction, to be honest.  It's no deeper or stronger than any of the mid-range neutrals like MAC Retro or all those delightful liquid matte dried dog sick- sorry, greiges- everyone's doing to death right now.  It won't blow anyone's socks off or get you frogmarched out of the office.
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Close inspection of the tube shot directly above will reveal another of the surprises lurking up Moscow's figurative sleeve; a super-fine, old gold glitter or pearl.  It's a very long way short of visible nana frost but lends a subtle and flattering dimensionality that sits really well with an eye look featuring the coppery richesse of UD Baked or MAC All That Glitters.

It's the thinnest of the Pure Mattes that I've experienced, going on at around 70% opacity and retaining a slight suggestion of translucence even when thickly-applied.  Moscow is also near-creamy, comfortable and visually forgiving, making it a great 'gateway' matte for someone a wee bit afraid of this textural genre.