Stassi was talking about how Kristen had been sent these Lip Kits and how amazing they were and I didn't pay much attention. Then it became a recurring theme on the podcast and all of their Snapchats enough that I had to find out for myself: What on earth is a Lip Kit?
I went to the source, of course. Google. "Kylie Lip Kits" yielded an immediate link to Kylie Cosmetics and I clicked through to see exactly what was SO MAGICAL about these things. What makes it a kit? Well, it's a lip liner and a lip gloss. What makes it so amazing? I don't know, but the SECOND I found out it was all sold out, I had to find out. Cue my second Google search: "How do I buy a Kylie Lip Kit?" This search yielded all sorts of results. I discovered that they've been perpetually sold out for months, and the only way to snag your own was to be online when she does a restock and fight a million 13 year old girls to get your own. And the only way to know when a restock was is to download Kylie's app, where she makes the announcements.
Easy enough, I thought. I download the app and discover if I want to unlock the USEFUL information, i.e., how to get a Lip Kit, I had to pay $2.99 per month to do so. SERIOUSLY, I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS. A little crazy bell went off in my brain, because NOBODY tells me I can't buy something. A frenzy has been created around these things similar to the Lilly for Target drama. Let's face it, the girl is a genius. She is probably bathing in a room full of lip kits ala Scrooge McDuck every night but only releases enough in these secret shindigs to create a Guns & Butter situation (are they still teaching that in school? Am I dating myself even MORE?).
I text my friend Amy and tell her I'm currently researching how to get a Kylie Lip Kit. I ask her if I'm too old for this, and she graciously replies, "Um, no. You're young enough to appreciate the Kardashians and old enough to have the expendable income to throw at this kind of thing." She's right. I continue on.
I catch a break with this blog from Glamour. It's worth noting that some poor girl went to journalism school to spend her day checking Kylie Jenner's app and live blogging her findings. According to the blog, there would be a restock on Monday night at 7 p.m. eastern. I put an alert in my calendar and wait for the big day.
Monday, March 28th, 6:00 p.m. Central Time: I've stayed late at work to ensure I'm at a computer when it's time. It should be noted that I sneak down the back staircase to leave work early almost every day, so this is clearly serious business. I'm chatting three of my friends about the big event. They wish me good luck. One decides to jump on the website to see what's up with the release.
6:01 p.m.: I'm refreshing the page like crazy. WHERE ARE THEY KYLIE
6:02 p.m.: I'm in. I choose Kourt K, a vampy color that will make me look like I'm rebelling against my parents and still listening to Dashboard Confessional, and Candy K, a color that I'm pretty convinced will just look like my actual lips BUT BETTER. I manage to add them to my basket on my phone, as the three browsers I have open on my computer are all non-responsive. Time to begin checkout so these don't get sniped from underneath me.
6:03 p.m.: I'm feeling pretty smug that I have Apple Pay set up on my phone so I don't have to enter my credit card number. I'm a shopping master. These 12 year olds have no idea what just hit them.
6:04 p.m.: WHY IS THE WEBSITE JUST SPINNING WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME
6:05 p.m.: I frantically refresh the Kylie Cosmetics Instagram, which I've turned on notifications for so I can see restocks in the comments when people spill the beans. Kylie's apologizing for actually breaking the internet. Shopify is acting like it operates on dial up.
6:06 p.m.: I've refreshed so many times, I'm fairly certain I've bought 15 lip kits at this point. I have so many Kourt K's on the way, I can start my own YouTube channel where we all just cry and hold hands and talk about how Avril Lavigne will never be "truly punk."
6:07 p.m.: I've given up. I've been bested. The internet army of Kylie Jenner has bested me.
6:15 p.m: JUST KIDDING I'M STILL TRYING
6:17 p.m.: I now have lip kits in all four of my carts that are open and am strategizing which will yield the best results. I check my bank account to see if I've already bought 200 of these things. I check my email to see if I have a confirmation. I check my pulse to see if I am literally dead, as the kids say these days. I find myself wishing I had opened a bottle of wine for this.
6:19 p.m.: $9 for shipping? Is this stuff wrapped in gold and hand delivered by her personal monkey slave? Even Victoria's Secret is giving you the side eye right now.
6:20 p.m.: THE ORDER GOES THROUGH, PRAISE SAINT JENNER. I AM ON A EUPHORIC HIGH OF SHOPAHOLIC ENDORPHINS.
6:21 p.m.: A cloud of shame goes over my head, as I realize I have just devoted over 20 minutes of my life to trying to buy something from a girl who is already a bazillionaire. How could you, AJ? This girl's Snapchat is nothing but her lip-syncing in the car. Who are you? Should you even be allowed to own a house or car at this point? HOW CAN YOU BE TRUSTED?
6:25 p.m.: I'm looking at swatches on the Instagram page and am immediately pulled back in. No shame. I'm an adult, I do what I want. Should I have ordered Posie K? Oh man, I really should have. Maybe Dolce K too. What an amateur.
And as of yesterday, my first shipment arrived with a shade so dark, I consider getting a tear tattoo on my right cheek. It's not exactly a work color, so I don't have a review for you yet, but if the small victory of being able to snag one is any indication, it was probably worth the effort.
Kylie, you're a genius.