Lightswitch is pure citrus current on your mouth. Think Dominican ice cart on a New York corner, last warm day before the cold hits, syrup dripping, city steam rising, you glowing like fresh mango under streetlights

Neon marigold, like somebody plugged your face into the stage lights.

“You turn me on and turn me off just like a light switch

And when you’re gone my world is dark

Where’s the light switch

I try to sleep without you

But I can’t see without you!”

Velvety matte, full coverage, zero shy.

The shade you put on when you are ready to subtlety shake the room…