Rouge Noir, or the nail polish I inherited
There are products you discover in a shop, in a magazine, or, these days, sometimes on Instagram. I first saw Rouge Noir as a child, on my mother's hands. A very dark red, almost black, with hints of burgundy, brown, sometimes cherry depending on the light. It's hard to pinpoint exactly. I thought it was classy, chic, a little rebellious. The kind of color that's difficult to define.
The story of Rouge Noir is actually a bit more interesting than I thought.
In 1994, Heidi Morawetz and Dominique Moncourtois, then head of makeup design at Chanel, conceived the shade two days before the Fall/Winter 1994-95 fashion show. Morawetz later recounted being inspired by a black and white photograph in which the eyes and nails appeared black. They then mixed red and black pigments themselves to create this Rouge Noir. The nail polish was officially launched in 1995 and became one of the House's iconic shades.
But before I wore it myself, for me, Rouge Noir was Mom's nail polish, with her gold jewelry and short hair, which often had brown highlights, sometimes chocolate, sometimes almost auburn. She wore others, but it's the one I remember. The one that made such an impression on me that when I think of her hands, it's this color that comes to mind. Even today, at over 55 (I never know people's ages, not even my mother's; sometimes I even doubt my own), she wears practically nothing else.
Over time, it became one of my own. I like to think I developed my tastes all on my own. Rouge Noir complicates this theory. I don't really know when I started wearing it. It just happened naturally. However, I do know when I consistently crave it: as soon as autumn begins.
I could obviously wear Rouge Noir in the middle of July. No one would ever stop me, unless Chanel decided to discontinue it. Which would be a very serious mistake on their part. It's beautiful no matter what. Yet, in my imagination, it belongs primarily to autumn, when my wardrobe takes on much darker hues.
Black. Brown. Burgundy. Khaki green.
And red-black.
It's become one of my seasonal indicators. Watching the leaves fall goes hand in hand, for me, with black-red painted nails, a woody scent, hojicha tea, and preferably, non-itchy wool. Please. Good heavens.
There's also something about this color that pretty much sums up what I love. It's never completely red. Never completely black either. In some lights, it looks almost brown; in others, much more cherry. I like colors that aren't easily named. It can be very classic or sophisticated without being particularly tame.
That's also what makes a product a signature. Not necessarily because it's spectacular, but because we keep coming back to it. Eventually, it becomes part of the family. It's one of ours.
Clearly, my mother passed on her obsession to me. I don't know if Rouge Noir has become my signature polish or if I inherited it. At this point, the difference doesn't really matter to me. It's a story of legacy, black and white, and a color that's hard to define. Inevitably, Rouge Noir was going to end up at The Faded Lineage.
Sixtine