Occasionally, a story that reads more like a noir screenplay than a beauty news tip lands in your email. That is just what happened last week when I got a message from Erin Parsons, a famous beauty artist and expert on vintage cosmetics. "Cryptic" is the topic line. The email's body? Even more so.
I am at a loss for words right now, but would you be interested?
Let us take a moment. Marilyn Monroe. Lipstick is missing. The mind is racing.
For those who do not know, Parsons is not just an expert at red carpet looks and eyeliner flicks; she is also a true beauty historian who is renowned for searching through old makeup vaults, finding unique items, and reviving long-lost glitz. You pay attention when she says she is on to something significant.
particularly when Monroe, the timeless symbol of Hollywood's heyday, is involved. Everything about Marilyn has been analyzed, loved, and mythologized, from her distinctive crimson mouth to her platinum locks. However, this specific story—the disappearance of one of her genuine, live lipsticks—has somehow gone unnoticed.
Parsons claims that years ago, a curiously absent item from Marilyn's beauty armory vanished. Not just any lipstick, but a tube that the celebrity is said to have used herself—a glitzy relic that once contained creamy pigment but now contains mysteries.
The tale, which is currently unfolding like a mysterious red carpet, includes not only the lipstick's disappearance but also a convoluted path via private collections, auction houses, and unspoken murmurs in the world of vintage beauty. Eventually, the lipstick reappeared. Then it vanished once more.
Now, the mystery may finally be unraveling because of Parsons' detective work, which combines glossy skill with gumshoe grit.
Although Parsons is currently assembling the entire chronology (and withholding some important data for the time being), she promises a more thorough examination of how a single lipstick tube may convey a tale of a broader societal preoccupation with celebrity, beauty, and preservation in addition to one woman's legacy.
The problem is that Marilyn's lipstick is more than just a relic. It is a red thread connected to a woman who still fascinates people decades after she passed away. It is like touching a piece of history to have something she used, something that touched her lips and embodied her image. Intimacy with the past like that is uncommon but potent.
Was the lipstick taken, then? Misplaced? Or secretly stored somewhere in a vault?
Keep an eye out. Because this is a cultural whodunit, not just a riddle of beauty. Erin Parsons is also pursuing the case.