Friday, December 23, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Sydney Smith was a charming cleric known for his wonderfully clever letters of hope, faith, and chatty news sent to various friends of social standing. His letter here gives me great inspiration and instructs me to take good care when the melancholies come to visit. It also teaches me to carry on and keep the focus on my own good life when others want to see me falter. I hope if the melancholies are your guest for a time, Rev. Smith will assist you. And remember, living well is the best revenge (blazing fires, notwithstanding)...
Sunday, October 2, 2011
This 2003 film stars Julia Roberts, as Art History professor Katherine Watson who takes a position at one of the Seven Sisters Colleges, Wellesley. Julia Stiles (above), Kirsten Dunst, Maggie Gyllanhaal, and Ginnifer Goodwin play the conservative college students to Robert's feminist and bohemian Miss Watson.
To me, the real stars of the film are the magnificant weather and scenery and the marvelous 1950's costumes. It was shot on the campus of Wellesley, just outside Boston, Massachusetts, a place so very dear to my heart. The Wedgewood blue skies of fall are the backdrop for the stunning foliage found in New England in October and as I watch the movie, I imagine Boston before I was born, when I my mother wore the same long tweed skirts and matching cardigans with her Keds.
We are treated to plenty of long full skirts, cinched at the waist by leather belts, separates which include Peter Pan collars and soft Shetland sweaters, heels, pearls, stud earrings, and red lipstick. I believe I have narrowed down the lipstick color to Cherries in the Snow, the Revlon color which made its debut with much fanfare in the '50's (happily, it still can be found at the drugstore!). Miss Watson's wardrobe is indeed a little more "gypsy" but she sports some gorgeous wool pieces just the same.
Fortunately, there is a grand wedding in the film and this is when the gloves and the small hats with netting that perch so femininely on top of the head can be seen. The colors are pure and clear especially a color a friend told me was "petrol blue", a cross between peacock and royal.
Yes, Mona Lisa Smile makes a statement, and very loudly, about women's roles and choices in post-war America. I simply cannot think too much about that, however, when I am mesmerized by the Jonathan Logan separates and Delman pumps. I can almost smell the Chanel #5 and Arpege off the screen. It's a saturating film; a feast for the eyes, and it focuses for me all the wonderful things I love about the fall - it is absolutely lovely. It makes me want to run to my closet for that cream wool cardigan and brown and gold tweed skirt that feels like a cat's scratchy tongue. And when I do find that skirt and sweater, and we finally get one of those fine high blue days, I will be lovely too.
Monday, September 5, 2011
I targeted the dream employer and when I discovered that a position was open at the women's union, a place steeped in history and women's lore, I rattled the cage of the venerable institute until they interviewed and hired me. I was the Gal Friday for one year, a job that entailed everything from managing the housekeeping staff to fixing the copy machine and everything in between. But soon, my love for the history of the place had me working in archiving the union's massive photographs and documents. In a nutshell, this Victorian young woman got to spend her eight hours per day playing...
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
When we were small and all throughout our school years, we were the best dressed kids around. We didn't have tons of clothes – just nice little outfits that Mom put together from a wonderful designer discount store called "Arthur's". I remember shopping there for days before the new school year began in the fall, watching Mom pluck tartan skirts and matching sweaters from bins. I had no idea what she was doing. But I remember the end results: a windowpane plaid skirt with a creamy background, a soft a red cashmere pullover, navy tights, and shiny brown brogues. She bought my first handbag at Arthur's, a chestnut accordion file affair with a double gold chain. Perfect for my first day of 7th grade at the grown up Jr. High School. Mom knew just what I needed to look confident. I didn't even know I needed a purse - thank goodness she did.
When I was about four years old, a box arrived for my mother. "This is for me", she told us as we jostled one another (there were four of us), to peer inside. Out came a green and blue Pucci like shirt, some slim pants, and a dress. It was magical to me that clothes could come out of a box delivered to the front door. We all loved that blouse but the one item we couldn't get enough of was the grey and navy striped shirt dress Mom wore the day she brought my youngest brother home from the hospital. It had short sleeves, a self-belt and full wide skirt. Rather plain in tone, but we always associated it with the day she alighted from that cab with my father, holding a small and warm bundle in her arms. We didn't even know she was she was expecting! At least as far as I recall. So it was quite an event and she looked lovely with her soft hair in a shadow of waves around her head and her knowing, sweet smile as she walked toward us three holding my new baby brother. On our birthdays, Mom let us pick out her dresses and invariably for years, it was the grey striped dress she wore the day she came home from the hospital. Eventually, she began to yelp "Not again!" But wore it she did until it mysteriously disappeared from her closet and wasn’t there one birthday.
Mom’s father was the general manager of Filene’s Basement and he provided Mom with boxes too. They contained a burgundy tweed suit with matching crocodile pumps she wore to work at our school’s Christmas bazaar, some jodhpurs similar to those that First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy was wearing at the time, and pristine white wrist length gloves for church.
My mother never let us tamper with the cotton candy pink crinoline and satin prom dress that hung in the attic even though I was itching to pull it over my head and parade around the house in it. Mom went to two proms in it; one with my father and one with another boy. I have both prom pictures of Mom in the frothy confection with each of her beaus. It was a gorgeous dress that cost my grandparents a pretty penny for their pretty daughter. She looked like a princess.
Mom had a storm blue shearling lined car coat and wore it when she took us ice skating. She accessorized with a scratchy red plaid scarf and red galoshes. She looked chic even out in the freezing cold, herding us all onto the ice where she would skate with us on winter afternoons. Always chic.
I remember watching Mom fret one year about finding a dress for herself for a family wedding. We looked everywhere: Arthur's, of course, then Filene's Basement, the local shops, and finally Kennedy's, where she found an apple green shantung silk dress with a square rhinestone buckle on a dropped waist. It was a mini and she wore it with subtly patterned off white hose and dyed to match shoes. She looked 60's gorgeous with her now blond swingy hair. I remember her pronouncement "I always find special clothes at Kennedy's" which was actually a men's store that had a few dresses. Later, whenever she was in hunt mode for another special occasion dress, one of us kids would invariably shout out, "Try Kennedy's!”
My mother knows the perfect thing to wear for any occasion. While I stand at my open closet door, ruminating and then rejecting all possibilities while the clock ticks, Mom already knows ahead of time what she'll be wearing and it's always just the thing. She showed up in the driveway for the family's first camping trip wearing slim mushroom colored Capri’s, a sleeveless shell, and a Liberty print cotton kerchief on her head and tied in the back. Always perfect and in line with the event, she was.
In the summer, I recall beautiful sundresses, cotton with some lovely touch such as rick rack, a great pattern, piping, or embroidery and always showing off that great tiny waist. I remember her deep blue swimsuit stitched to look like small quilts of bubble wrap. It had two burnt red flowers scored into evocative places. But the colors were so subtle, and the fabric so unusual and rich, that it didn't startle, it merely suggested. Unfortunately, it became known as her rainy day swimsuit because it seemed that every time she wore it, the skies opened up and poured on us at the local lake.
Mom taught me how to achieve a monochromatic look when I saw her in her cream separates in the 80's. She made an entrance to my party with her shiny blond hair highlighted by the threads of gold in her wool coat, matching pants and sweater. It was a great look for her with all the textural contrasts.
Last Easter, we picked up Mom and she was wearing a Chanel looking jacket in celadon and gold tweed with a small fringe around the collar and sleeve edges. "You look like an Easter egg", my brother called out jovially. And she did, all pastel and cheery. Perfect Easter finery.
Whenever I see her now, she is wearing a great pair of tailored pants, a colorful shirt, and ballet flats. She still does skirts but rarely a dress. She says nice dresses are hard to find. I saw one on the rack recently that would have been perfect for her and I would have bought it if they had it in size 2. It met all the Joan criteria: crisp quality fabric, nipped in waist, beautiful embroidery. Perhaps it would only have been ideal for the diminutive and stylish mother of my childhood and not for the sporty chic grandmother of today. Like all timelessly fashionable women, Mom has gracefully let go of the things that no longer suit her and has let her look evolve and stay current. She never looks back whether it is in life or in clothes.
The grey and navy striped shirtdress lives on in the massive collection of family slides along with the rainy day swim suit, and all the other clothes that tell the story of a suburban goddess who knew how to dress to enchant her tiny private audience.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Everyone who knows me knows how much I adore lipstick. It's been an obsession since I was four. I remember well sneaking my mother's Cherries in the Snow and running it across my lips (and teeth, and chin and cheeks). A pal from high school wrote in my yearbook underneath her picture: "You will be a great success in whatever you do as long as you have endless tubes of lipstick!" I got fired once for lipstick. I was working as a hostess in an old cozy restaurant by the highway one summer break from college. I formed a bond with all the waitresses because I used to bus their tables for them as the night grew old. One day, they sat me down and gently told me I had just worked my last night there. "Why???", I practically wailed. Very gently, oh so gently, the oldest and wisest said, "Because, dear, you are always in the ladies room putting on lipstick". I simply nodded sadly in agreement. I couldn't argue. The putting on of lipsticks in secret prevented me from tending to other required tasks. Lipstick has always been a true love.
Currently I love Chanel's Rouge Coco "Mademoiselle". It is the color Vanessa Paradis (and isn't she adorable???) is wearing in the photograph above (I know this because I called Chanel and asked). This summer, I was drawn to purchase Chanel's new Rouge Coco Shine in "Boy". When it comes to lipstick, I am a Madison Ave. dream customer; easily persuaded to try any formula, any color, anytime. I am a girly girl who is tickled to wear a color called "Boy" (named after Chanel's lover Boy Capel).
There is some great dialogue about Chanel makeup in the film "View from the Top". Gwyneth Paltrow, who plays an airline hostess, envies another hostess who works for a more elite airline when she notices the hostess carries Chanel makeup in her handbag. I too, always have Chanel lipstick in my handbag. But the price of Chanel's makeup has grown steeply over the last few years. With my habit, I needed to source a cheaper lipstick for experimenting and for keeping in my makeup basket at home. I found great affordable lipsticks in the Revlon line.
Revlon makes terrific color saturated lipsticks in scads of colors. My village drugstore sells them for $7.99 each with a "buy one, get one at 50% off". This means I can buy them whenever the mood for a new color hits. Revlon lipsticks are bright, creamy, and long lasting. I run through them like nobody's business. Of course, I still keep my Chanel in my handbag and it's a luxurious indulgence that thrills me when I take it out to use. But for fun, I use my Revlon selections everyday as a starting point from home.
The first lipstick I ever bought was a Love cosmetic one that was no better than the stick concealers that used to be available. It dragged across my lips. It was a strange burnt tan color, like a Cheez-it. It was dry. But it had that great space helmet cover of clear acrylic and made a satisfying click when I put it back on the tube. I felt so grown-up.
I graduated to gooey Yardley's Pot-o-Gloss and cool Slickers lipsticks like every girl in my high school. I poured over the color selections in my Seventeen magazine before choosing one at the local Rexall.
In the 80's my passion was for Estee Lauder lipsticks, especially after they redesigned their plain navy tubes into great big fluted gold ones, so in keeping with the decade of more is more. I still remember the heart-stopping colors I loved: Palace Pink, Rosewood, Ruby Slippers.
The funny thing about my love of lipstick is that I have rather small lips. But when I was younger, thin lips were in; they were considered feminine and pretty. Think Cheryl Tiegs. It wasn't until much later that fuller lips came into vogue. I've kept my smaller lips and my large lipstick collection.
It has been said by sociologists, that during difficult economic times, lipstick sales rise. The reason being is that most women can still afford a drug store lipstick, if not a designer outfit. It's a little bit of luxury, a happy spot of color. It's artistry, it's fun, it lifts the mood.... it's Lipstick Love.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Photo Credits: British Vogue
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
A beauty of an article caught my eye in a 1942 Woman’s Home Companion. This one was about good grooming habits while working and I was all over it! The image above was the photo that was used to illustrate this interesting article.
One of the highlights was the recommendation to employ a used candy box in the office. Apparently, every 1942 working woman needed a supply of grooming products for the office which could be charmingly placed within a candybox (for that matter, a cigar box or other shallow box would work as well).
I passed the article along to a few working friends who admitted they had some slap dash and messy cosmetics tucked away in their work desks including crushed eye shadows held together with rubber bands, compacts with broken mirrors, and wrinkled up bandaids.