Flowers for Juno presents: Lipstick and Furs
A stark, textured return that turns fixation into confession.
Flowers for Juno return with “Lipstick and Furs,” the first single since the EP Bacchanalia Coppélia and a sharp reminder of the project’s singular focus. Fronted by vocalist and producer Benjó James, Flowers for Juno has been described as gothic rock, but the new track leans just as heavily on shoegaze haze and darkwave density. The result is thick with distortion and atmosphere, yet anchored by a direct and almost confrontational hook.
According to James, the song arrived during a period of collapse. Around the time of Bacchanalia Coppélia, he was recovering from alcohol poisoning, broke and largely confined to bed. Recording new music was not a priority. Still, within minutes of picking up a guitar, the skeleton of “Lipstick and Furs” took shape. Two weeks later, it was released. That urgency is audible. The track feels less sculpted than summoned.
Musically, “Lipstick and Furs” builds a wall of melody from layered guitars, fuzz bass synthesiser, and programmed drums. James handles nearly every element, from mellotron and electric sitar to samples and drum programming. The arrangement is dense but controlled, with textures stacked in a way that suggests both shoegaze maximalism and post punk restraint. The Northumbrian harp by Freja Crozier threads through the mix on this and the accompanying tracks, adding a brittle, almost medieval tone that offsets the electronic undercurrent. Tyrion “Bigfoot” Jackson’s slap bass adds a brief flash of physicality, grounding the swirl in something tactile.
Lyrically, the song circles around fantasy and projection. The narrator lists a series of stylized female figures, defined by clothing, accents, and surface details. Lipstick, furs, designer purses, fake tan, hoop earrings. The repetition becomes deliberate and uncomfortable. These are not portraits of people but constructed images, assembled from desire and distance. The chorus reframes the catalogue as unattainable fantasy, repeating the idea that the object of desire is far away and unreal. What begins as bravado shifts into something closer to confession.
There is a tension between the exaggerated imagery and the emotional undercurrent. The named references to glamour, excess, and cultural signifiers echo the decadent tone of Bacchanalia Coppélia, yet here they feel hollowed out. The repeated invocation of that earlier title within the song suggests a self-aware callback, as if James is confronting his own mythology. The fantasy is not celebrated so much as exposed. The fixation becomes a symptom rather than a triumph.
Production plays a central role in that shift. The guitars are smeared and heavy, but the vocals cut through with clarity. James does not bury the words under reverb. Instead, he lets them sit close to the surface, forcing attention onto their bluntness. The contrast between lush instrumentation and stark repetition sharpens the theme. Texture becomes a frame for something raw.
“Lipstick and Furs” stands as both relapse and recovery, a song born from physical and financial low points yet shaped into something controlled and deliberate. It does not romanticize the fall that preceded it. Instead, it turns fixation into structure, fantasy into repetition, and excess into sound. In doing so, Flowers for Juno sharpen their identity without softening their edges.
With “Lipstick and Furs,” Flowers for Juno continue to refine a dark, textured language that feels both self-aware and unsettled, pushing forward from the shadows cast by Bacchanalia Coppélia.
We also had the chance to ask the artist a few questions: keep reading for more!
“Lipstick and Furs” was written during a period of physical and emotional collapse. How did that state shape the song’s directness and repetition?
I'm not sure if it did. I was in a very, very, dark place and by the grace of God I managed to write, record, and release a song. I could barely get out of bed but I somehow managed to pick up my guitar. It's a mystery.
The lyrics revolve around constructed images of desire and fantasy. Do you see the narrator as sincere, ironic, self-critical, or something in between?
Something in between. He's being tortured by his fixations.
You reference Bacchanalia Coppélia within the song itself. Was that meant as a continuation of that chapter, or as a way of confronting it?
"Coppélia" is my favourite ballet, the titular character being an incredibly beautiful woman...who turns out to a life sized doll. As for bacchanalia? Excessive drinking has been a huge part of my life. So lyrically it makes perfect sense.
The production layers guitars, fuzz bass synthesiser, harp, and programmed elements. How do you decide when a track has reached its limit texturally?
It's never a conscious decision. My December single "My Bloody Kisses" was more straightforward in its composition, whereas on "Lipstick and Furs" I just instinctively kept adding more sections and instrumentation.
You handle nearly every aspect of the recording process yourself, from writing to mastering. Does that total control feel freeing, isolating, or both?
Liberating for the most part. The track's got harps, sitars, mellotrons, samples, and heavy distorted guitars...backed by a drum and bass beat played on a metal kit. Working alone allows me to go full 'mad scientist'.
What did you want listeners to feel or question after hearing “Lipstick and Furs”?
I don't. The pleasure is in my creating it.
