Home sweet home
Ever-reducing wardrobe space and stepping on mascara in the morning aside, I’ve never felt more at home
8 months ago, Pearl and I moved in together. It was the best decision I’ve made to date. We went from having nearly 100 miles between us to no distance at all. I wasn’t prepared for just how much fun living with your partner could be. I also wasn’t prepared for what it would be like to have two of the lipstickiest of lesbians living under one roof.
For starters, there’s an overwhelming amount of pink in the flat. I find it very pleasing to look at but when I got out of the shower the other day, wrapped in a pink towel, standing on a pink bath mat, reaching for my pink dressing gown, I realised that we are definitely playing into the femme stereotype.
There’s also make-up EVERYWHERE. Pearl leaves for work in the mornings before I do, and every day I play the "let’s pick up Pearl’s make up and put it back in her make up bag while sighing angrily" game. The problem is that there’s so much of it that it doesn’t all fit in the bag anymore and I end up precariously perching everything on top, just to get it out of the way of the mirror.
We sometimes get a little carried away with buying flowers. This doesn’t sound like a problem but once we had so many that they started looking like sympathy flowers as if someone had DIED. Plus, we ran out of vases.
Wardrobe space is also a major issue. We managed to whittle our clothes down to fit onto one rail per person but I use the word ‘fit’ generously. I was putting some washing away the other day and nearly lost an eye trying to force apart tightly wedged hangers to optimistically squeeze another shirt onto the rail. WAY too many clothes, nowhere near enough space.
There’s a real abundance of scented candles too. If I was in a relationship with anyone else, she would perhaps say to me, “No, Rosie, we do not need any more scented candles” but not my little lipstick lover Pearl. Just from where I am sitting as I write this in my living room, I can see no less than seven candles.
It’s fun, albeit a little frivolous, but most importantly it’s ours. Ever-reducing wardrobe space and stepping on mascara in the morning aside, I’ve never felt more like somewhere is my home. Last night, Pearl handed me a gin and tonic with a sparkly pink straw. I smiled to myself and thought that if this was what the Lipstick Life is all about, I’m pretty content with it.
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