I don’t reach for lipstick when I’m feeling glamorous. If I’m honest, glamorous has never been my most natural state. Lipstick, for me, is more like a small adjustment to the atmosphere of my face, the way opening a window changes a room without changing the furniture.
There are days in Florence when I can feel myself going slightly foggy, not sad in a cinematic way, just dulled, a little blank around the edges. It happens after too many messages, too much time spent being agreeable, too many small decisions that add up to a tired kind of self.
I’ll catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror in my small apartment, the light too direct, the sink still marked from hard water, and I’ll have that familiar thought: I look like someone who’s been living inside her head.
On those days, the lipstick I choose is not a statement. It’s a return. It’s not the color that says, look at me. It’s the color that says, I recognize myself.
The Shade That Feels Like Me
The lipstick color I wear when I need to feel like myself again is a muted rose-brown, the color of a dried petal pressed into an old book, with just enough warmth to make my skin look alive and just enough brown to keep it from looking sweet.
If that sounds poetic, it’s only because it’s hard to describe without slipping into metaphor. In practical terms, it sits somewhere between these ideas: It’s not pink. It’s not nude. It’s not berry. It’s not brick-red. It’s a quiet middle that does not announce a mood but still gives my face a center.
In different light, it changes slightly. In morning light, it looks more rosy. In evening, it leans more brown. In the bathroom mirror, it looks like the mouth I would have if I’d slept better and drank more water and kept my life slightly more together.
This is why it’s “really me.” It doesn’t make me feel styled. It makes me feel composed.
Why This Color Works on the Days I Need It
I’ve owned brighter lipsticks. I still do, in a drawer, where they wait patiently for the rare version of me who wants to be seen on purpose. But bright lipstick changes the whole face, and on low days I don’t want my face changed, I want it steadied.
This rose-brown does something specific: it brings warmth back to my expression without turning my lips into the headline. It makes my face look less like an unfinished sentence.
There’s also something emotionally quiet about it. I don’t feel like I’m wearing a costume. I don’t feel like I’m trying to convince anyone of anything. It’s a color that says I’m here, not I’m performing.
I think I used to buy lipstick like I used to buy plans for my life, as if a stronger color could make me a stronger person. Now I choose the shade that matches the person I already am when I’m calm.
The Hack That Makes It Feel Like “Me” Instead of Makeup
Here is the practical tip I rely on, and it’s the part that makes the shade truly mine:
I apply it like a stain, not like a lipstick.
I don’t swipe it on from the bullet and walk out the door. If I do that, the color looks heavier, and heavy makeup, even when it’s subtle, can read like effort.
Effort is fine, but on the days I’m trying to feel like myself again, I want the lipstick to look like it belongs to my face, not like it was placed there. This is my method, the one I do almost automatically now.
Step 1: Start with balm, then blot it down
I put on a simple lip balm first, wait maybe thirty seconds, then press a tissue lightly against my lips. Not to remove it, just to take away the shine. Shine makes lipstick slip. Slip makes me self-conscious later.
Step 2: Tap the lipstick on with my finger
I tap the lipstick onto the center of my lips with my fingertip, then blur outward. I’m not outlining. I’m creating a soft, lived-in edge, like the color has always been there.
This is important because a sharp lip line feels like a message. A blurred lip feels like a mood.
Step 3: Press lips together once, then stop
One press. Not five. Too much pressing moves pigment into the corners and makes it look messy in a way that reads careless, not effortless.
Step 4: The “invisible liner” trick
If I know I’m going to be out for a while, I take whatever is left on my finger and tap it along the outer edge of my lips, then blend it slightly into the skin around the mouth. It sounds odd, but it works like a soft lip liner without the harshness. It stops feathering and keeps the shape gentle.
That’s the whole hack. It takes less than a minute. It keeps the lipstick from looking like a decision I made loudly.
What the Shade Does to My Day
I wish I could tell you lipstick changes my life. It doesn’t. It changes my posture, which changes my day in a quieter way.
When my lips look washed out, I tend to overcompensate. I fuss with my face. I check mirrors. I feel unfinished. When my lips have this muted rose-brown on them, my face feels complete enough that I stop inspecting myself.
That’s the real benefit. Less monitoring.
I’ve learned that “feeling like myself” often means returning to something that reduces mental noise. A lipstick that doesn’t require touch-ups. A color that fades nicely. A finish that doesn’t leave a harsh ring after coffee. This shade does all of that when I apply it the way I described.
It wears off like a gentle memory instead of a collapse.
The Florence Part, Because Place Matters
Florence has a way of making you feel observed even when no one is staring. The streets hold sound. The light reflects off stone. You can feel your face in the world.
In winter, the air can make my lips dry, and in summer, everything feels too bright and a little sticky. This shade works in both seasons because it doesn’t fight the environment. It doesn’t look too pale under harsh sunlight and it doesn’t look too dark in soft evening light.
It’s also a color that looks right with the clothes I actually wear, which are usually neutral and repeated on purpose. Black, cream, faded denim, a coat that’s seen a few years. The rose-brown gives me softness without making me look like I’m trying to be delicate.
If You Want a “Julia” Version of This Shade
If you’re trying to find a lipstick that feels like this, don’t look for a trendy name. Look at undertones.
A Julia shade is usually going to have:
A muted rose base, not bright pink. A touch of brown, not beige. Enough warmth to make skin look alive, but not so much orange that it looks like a mood board.
It should look a little boring in the tube. That’s a compliment. The best everyday lipsticks often look underwhelming until they’re on your face, doing their quiet work.
And it should fade gracefully, because I don’t want a lipstick that punishes me for drinking coffee, eating a piece of bread, or talking too much.
Final Thoughts
I don’t use lipstick to become someone else anymore. I use it the way I use a good sweater, as a small piece of steadiness that helps me move through a day without feeling exposed.
The muted rose-brown I return to is not exciting. It’s not a reveal. It’s not a reinvention.
It’s a familiar color that makes my face feel like mine again, especially on the days when I feel slightly scattered and want one small thing to come back into place.
And I like that it works best when it’s applied softly, with a fingertip, with no hard edges and no insistence. It doesn’t ask me to be confident. It just lets me look like myself, which is usually the better starting point anyway.