The red lipstick is the most legible cosmetic object in the Western makeup bag. It is the lipstick that everybody recognises, even the people who never wear it. It is the lipstick that has been, at various moments in the last hundred years, a sign of sexual availability, a sign of professional competence, a sign of feminist refusal, a sign of nationalist kitsch, and a sign of editorial good taste. It has been banned, prescribed, and re-prescribed, in roughly equal measure, since the 1920s.
This essay is, in part, a history of those signs. It is also an argument that the red lipstick, in 2026, is more interesting than the industry currently makes room for. The industry has, in the last decade, mostly tried to neutralise the red — to push it toward the nude, the rose, the your-lips-but-better. The neutralisation has been commercially successful. It has also, in our view, been a mistake.
The red lipstick is worth the trouble of wearing.
Elizabethan — cochineal and white lead
The red lip, in the Western tradition, was an Elizabethan signature. The red was not, in the modern sense, a lipstick. The red was a stain, made from cochineal — the dried bodies of the Dactylopius coccus, a small insect farmed in Mexico and Central America — mixed with white lead, sometimes with the addition of a plant mucilage to help the paste adhere to the skin. The paste was applied with a small brush, often made of squirrel hair.
The Elizabethan red lip was, in its day, a contested object. Queen Elizabeth I wore it, which lent it a courtly authority. The Church, in various European countries, attempted to ban it, on the grounds that the red lip was the mark of the fallen woman. The bans were, in most cases, ineffective. The red lip was, by the seventeenth century, available to anyone who could afford the cochineal.
The cochineal formula persisted, in various forms, into the eighteenth century. The cochineal was, in fact, the most-used red cosmetic pigment in the Western world until the mid-nineteenth century, when the synthetic alizarin was developed. Alizarin was cheaper. Alizarin was also, in some formulations, less stable on the skin. The two pigments co-existed, in the European market, well into the twentieth century.
1920 — the modern lipstick and the flapper
The modern lipstick — the lipstick as we know it today, a pigmented wax-and-oil stick in a swivel case — dates to 1915, in the United States. The swivel case was, in itself, the invention. The swivel case made the lipstick portable. The swivel case made the lipstick, for the first time, an everyday object rather than a theatrical one.
The 1920s lipstick was, in cultural terms, the lipstick of the flapper. The flapper, in the popular imagination of the 1920s, was a young woman who wore her lip colour dark, almost always red, sometimes almost purple. The flapper’s red was a signal: of independence, of generational rebellion, of a deliberate refusal of the muted Victorian lip that had preceded it.
The flapper’s red was also, in practical terms, a new kind of red. The 1920s lipstick was, in formulation terms, a much more saturated product than anything that had come before. The pigments available in the 1920s — synthetic organic pigments, in particular the eosin reds — were brighter and more durable than the cochineal or alizarin of the previous century. The red lip, in 1924, when Coty launched its first commercial lipstick in the modern form, was a brighter red than any red lip before it.
1940 — wartime red
The 1940s red lip was, in cultural terms, a patriotic lip. The wartime red was a morale object. The wartime red was also, in practical terms, a standardised object: the wartime cosmetics industry, in both the United States and the United Kingdom, simplified its colour ranges to a handful of shades, with red at the top.
The 1940s red was, in many ways, the first red lip of the modern mass market. The 1940s red was sold at army PXs, in factory canteens, in department stores that had, in most cases, only one red on the shelf. The 1940s red was, in formulation terms, a fairly long-wearing red, with a high pigment load and a relatively matte finish. The 1940s red was meant to last, through a working day and, in some cases, through a working night.
The 1940s red was also, in the United States, a regulated red. The FDA’s 1938 definition of a lipstick was, in part, a response to the wartime cosmetics industry. The 1940s red was, in effect, the first mass-market cosmetic to be formally regulated as a cosmetic in the modern sense.
1960 — the nude
The 1960s were, in many ways, a reaction against the 1940s red. The 1960s were, in youth culture, a moment of naturalism. The natural lip, in the 1960s, was a nude, or a pink, or a barely-there gloss. The red lip, in the 1960s, was the lip of an older generation.
The nude of the 1960s was not, in formulation terms, a new invention. The nude had existed, in various forms, since the 1930s. The nude was, in the 1960s, the fashionable colour. The nude was sold at every counter. The nude was the colour the Twiggy look required. The nude was the colour of the moment.
The red was not, in this period, gone. The red was, in the 1960s, the lip of the older woman, the working woman, the woman who had not yet converted to the youth culture. The red was, in the 1960s, a sign of not-yet-modern.
1980 — the power red
The 1980s were, in many ways, the return of the red. The 1980s power red was a committed red. The 1980s power red was a deep, saturated, almost matte red, often with a brown undertone, sold at department store counters and worn with a sharp shoulder pad.
The 1980s power red was, in cultural terms, the red of the working woman. The 1980s power red was the red of the moment when the woman entered the corner office. The 1980s power red was a uniform. The 1980s power red was also, in many formulations, the first long-wearing red — a red that stayed on through lunch, through a meeting, through a flight.
Revlon’s Crimson and its descendants were the most-cited reds of the period. Chanel’s Rouge Noir — a dark, almost-black red — was the most controversial. Chanel’s Rouge Noir was, in fact, a fairly conventional dark red. The controversy was, in part, the controversy of the colour’s name: a colour called Rouge Noir, in 1994, was a colour that did not, by name, exist.
2010 — the your-lips-but-red backlash
The 2010s were, in many ways, a backlash against the 1980s power red. The 2010s beauty industry was, in cultural terms, the era of no-makeup makeup. The 2010s red lip was, in many formulations, a red that was meant to look like no red at all. The 2010s red lip was a red that wanted to be invisible. The 2010s red lip was, in many cases, called a rosy nude or a soft berry.
The 2010s red was, in formulation terms, often a tinted red — a red with a low pigment load, a high gloss content, and a finish that was meant to look like the natural lip on a cold day. The 2010s red was, in many cases, sold as a lip stain — a product that was applied with the finger, that built up gradually, that did not, in any meaningful sense, announce itself.
The 2010s red was, in our view, a mistake. The 2010s red was, in many cases, the colour of a woman who wanted to wear a red but did not want to be seen wearing one. The 2010s red was a colour that denied itself. The 2010s red was a colour that asked to be excused.
2020 — the return of the committed red
The 2020s, in our view, have been a quiet return of the committed red. The 2020s red is, in many formulations, a red that is, again, a red. The 2020s red is, in many cases, a high-pigment, low-gloss, almost matte red. The 2020s red is, in many cases, a red that is meant to be seen.
The 2020s red is also, in many cases, sold outside the traditional department store. The 2020s red is sold at indie brands, at direct-to-consumer lines, at small-batch operations. The 2020s red is, in many cases, the colour of a generation that has stopped pretending to wear a red.
The 2020s red is, in our view, the most interesting red in a hundred years. The 2020s red is, finally, a red that has stopped asking for permission. The 2020s red is a red that has remembered what red is for.
The red lipstick, in sum, has been a hundred years of cultural argument. The red has been a flapper’s signal, a wartime morale object, a 1980s power uniform, a 2010s apology, and a 2020s recovery. The red has been all of these things. The red is, in 2026, finally, again, just a red.
The red, worn, is a small argument. The argument is: I am, today, willing to be looked at. The argument is, in 2026, worth making. The argument is, in our view, the most honest argument the lipstick can make.
The red has been, for a hundred years, the colour of women who insist. The insistence has taken many forms. The form, in 2026, is the form that suits you. The red, in any form, is the lipstick’s most legible work. The work, finally, is to be looked at. The red, worn, is the work, done.