When someone says to me, “This candle smells like warm vanilla sugar!” I say, “That’s great!” But then I light the candle and instantly crave uncooked cake batter or actual warm vanilla sugar and am instantly angry that I have to smell it rather than eat it. The real thing is typically better than its artificial scent. And then there’s lip balm. I’ve always been a strong believer that lip balm is the one beauty product that’s allowed to smell and/or taste like whatever it’s artificially mimicking.
We recently (like an hour ago) tried out Lip Elixirs, an all-natural lip balm flavored like popular cocktails (chocolate martini, mojito, mimosa, sassafras and vanilla bourbon). I tried the mimosa flavor and really wanted to enjoy it. It had a slight tingling sensation at first, probably to resemble that of champagne. It also tasted like citrus, which was great because that’s exactly what you expect from a mimosa and was now tasting one. See? Flavored lip balms can be awesome.
But being able to taste that great cocktail flavor took a lot of work and sometimes, it wasn’t even all there. Lilit tried the mojito-flavored lip balm and said all she tasted was “just mint, no lime and no rum.” It could have been a peppermint flavor for all she knew, even though she was expecting the refreshing taste of a mojito. Also, the packaging is impossible. I don’t know what it is about beauty suppliers and difficult-to-open packaging, but it’s just not fair. When my lips are chapped, I want to be able to access my lip balm immediately, not spend minutes that feel like hours trying to pull the top off the pot when really all I had to do was twist.
And then there was the texture. The amount of grease the lip balm is made of exceeds the ability to experience the pleasurable, tasty effects of the product. It almost feels as if you’re dipping your face in a stew of fatty oils that are meant to make french fries. Ashley tried the sassafras flavor and said it tasted like “root beer-flavored beef tallow.” Jennifer sampled the vanilla bourbon flavor and was unimpressed as she felt like it was “sucking the marrow of a human bone and smearing it all over [her] lips with a dollop of vanilla.”
Am I extremely upset over this? No. Unless the lip balm doesn’t actually cure a case of chapped lips, I’ll take it. And if it makes my lips tingle and make me think of champagne for a mere fifth of a second, then that’s great too. But I would rather not feel like I have animal fat smothering my lips following that fifth of a second. But then again, if the lip balm was chicken tender-flavored, that would be a different story.