I thought I was done with lip balms. Between By Terry Baume de Rose, Clarins Lip Oil, and Laura Mercier Infusion de Rose Lip Balm, I believed I had all bases covered – the first is unbelievably nourishing, the second gives me a light gloss and moisture, the third is the perfect non-greasy pre-bed lip balm.
Then the Estee Edit CocoBalm Coconut Oil Infused Lip Gloss landed on my desk, and I thought hang on; I haven’t yet found the perfect handbag lip balm – and this could be it. It turns out that that is precisely what this number is: the lip companion of dreams when out and about.
The first thing that made me think of flinging this in my handbag was the packaging – it’s plastic and lightweight, though the fancy design begs to be handled and admired (truly: every time I pull this out some admiring by my companions happens).
What’s within is equally as good – a coconut oil-infused and therefore terrifically moisturising and deliciously-scented balm that imparts a wash of sheer, juicy colour and isn’t sticky or gloopy. The dispenser also makes it one for on-the-go – just squeeze the belly of the balm and a pearl appears on the slanted tip, so all you have to do is swipe and rub your lips together for an even coating – no mirror or finger-smudging required.
I’ve not yet mentioned my favourite thing about this balm, perhaps out of embarrassment – the reason isn’t very professional nor does it really lend anything to this review, but as honesty is this blog’s currency, I shall duly divulge.
As a child, you see, my sister and I had a madness for anything see-through. Three prized samples from our collection: a PVC beach bag with a front panel that contained a liquid ocean and plastic surfers; myriad transparent stickers, some of which contained sequins, others more prosaic plastic details such as shells and sand, and – best of all – a long plastic wand half filled with glitter that we procured at Disney World (she still won’t let me ‘play’ with this one).
Surrounding the balmy centre of this CocoBalm is a see-through panel that reminds me of the simple pleasure of playing with the above three. Whenever I whip it out, I’m suddenly six-years-old, wearing a T-shirt that changes colour when you blow on it and ALL my mum’s costume jewellery, playing with a plastic wand full of magical glitter. And I’m reminded that these sorts of small joys really aren’t insignificant in the slightest.