Give me a plucking break

Give me a plucking break

I’ve always had fine hair but I used to have a lot of it.  It seems to be getting finer as I get older.  I have been praying that I will be able to grow my hair long again and my prayers were answered yesterday when I found a 3 inch long hair… growing out of the middle of my forehead and another 2 incher growing out of my chin.  Not quite the victory I’d hoped for.

The texture, like a monofilament fishing line, was capable of disappearing from the naked eye.  How could this have happened without my noticing… unless it sprouted overnight like one of those time lapse videos of plants growing.    

I remember once I was talking to my Aunty and she had an eyelash on her cheek so I reached up to remove it only to find that it was attached.  Awkward. It must be a hormonal thing.   Woman have to suffer with the indignity of facial hair.  Men can have a full grey beard and it’s distinguished.  If a woman has the same then she needs to join the circus side show.  My best friend in high school told me her mom bought her some moustache bleach for her when she was 15.  Having white blonde hair around that time, I didn’t understand what the big deal was, but she said if she didn’t dye it she’d look like Burt Reynolds. 

I noticed a collection of light hair on my upper lip a couple of years ago.  I bought a laser hair treatment from Groupon and when I went to the salon to have the procedure they told me it doesn’t work on fair hair.  They reimbursed me and my peach fuzz encased lips spewed some choice curse words because they should tell the customer to purchase the treatment ONLY if they are dark haired. 

Having no other choice, I ran out to the drugstore and bought some wax strips and proceeded to cover my face like a mummy and then tear them all off.   If torture was legal…  I’d recommend this method. 

Afterwards I applied that blue oil to remove the sticky stuff and then a collagen facial mask to take the red out.    

I like some of the beauty oils on the market and I’m currently using my friend Beth Bovaird’s new line called Knockout Colours.  She is in the process of organizing her distribution but, since I’m a friend, I have always had access to the dreamy scented potions.   I love the way they make my skin feel and how absorbent they are. 

Here are some products that I really love. 

IT Cosmetics.  The CC Creams are perfect for my skin.  They are dewy and not greasy.  They also cover but don’t look heavy.  When I was younger, a matte makeup worked fine, but now I need something that has a glow about it without looking sweaty. 

I have been dealing with the Samsonites I’ve got packed under my eyes for a couple of years and always looking for a product to reduce them.  There is the Preparation H method, but I don’t know if it actually has worked for me, and I’m not too keen on putting something on my face that you are supposed to shove up your ass. 

After buying many different brands, that didn’t work, I finally came across Dr. Brandt’s “No More Baggage”.  You can get it at Sephora.  It’s not cheap but it actually works in my opinion.  I finally notice a difference after using it for a few weeks. 

I still haven’t found anything other than tweezers and tape to keep my face from becoming a human-hair-pin-cushion but I’m not giving up.  There must be some sort of hair inhibiter on the planet somewhere.  I guess we are more concerned with getting products to make hair grow;  not prevent it from growing.  I guess I could always embrace the “Cousin It” look down the road. 

Flower Power Head

Flower Power Head

I have a few pictures of my mom from the 1940’s where she had a perfectly placed large white Lily in her hair like Billy Holiday.  It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. 

A few years back I was in the process of making a solo record called Gorilla Girl and I needed a picture for the cover.  I wanted to somehow recreate that glamour with flowers and decided I wanted an entire garden on my head.   A girl can dream.   I wasn’t sure how to accomplish this but I was determined to see my vision come true. I knew that my hair wouldn’t be able to hold all the flowers so I bought a round Styrofoam ball at the dollar store.  It was about the same size as my head. 

I made an appointment at Taz Hair, in Yorkville, in Toronto.  My amazing colourist, Norm Wright, recommended a stylist by the name of Duyen Huynh and I presented her with the ball and a bag of flowers.  She pondered the ball and I talked about my idea.

This is what we came up with.   She took the ball and shaved the bottom off so it sat flat on my head and drilled a hole up through the middle and pulled my hair up through the hole.  She then spread my hair over and around the ball.   She took the flowers and pushed the 1 ½ inch stems into the Styrofoam until they felt secure.  She added some bobby pins around the base of the ball to make it hold in place. The scale of my head was massive when she finished.  Her artistry in placement and added touches were spectacular. It was so amazing I cried.  Unfortunately I couldn’t fit my head in my car so my photographer, Amanda Schenk, had to drive us both to the studio as I lay reclined in the passenger seat.  
I couldn’t be happier with the photos that were taken that day and the cover of the CD. Aaaaaaaand, I was also wearing a Gorilla suit. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The fab artwork was done by Roan Bateman.

The CD was produced by Ron Sexsmith!!! How lucky am I? One of my favorite song writers in the Universe. A genius with the voice of an absolute angel. His brilliant production of my CD made me sound so much better than I am.. Sorry, I got lost there…. I’m not promoting the CD. I’m promoting the hair!!

I ended up perfecting the flower technique on a smaller scale and have copied that style for more than a few New Years Eve’s… even adorning the flowers with Christmas lights.  I cut my hair last year so I can’t create this look at the moment. . I hope I’ve inspired someone to try this… and if you do, please send me a pic.

Over and out.

Neck Transplant

Neck Transplant

I was filming my parrot, Lord Blimey Pickles, on my shoulder, while he was whispering “give me a kiss”, like a pervert making an obscene phone call, and I saw something even more horrifying…my neck!  I honestly had no idea that it has been quietly turning into some sort of alien, artery infested, wrinkle snake… more commonly referred to as a turkey neck.    I googled neck transplants.  I actually found out that there is a man who had one in Poland.  He had cancer of the voice box and giving him the new neck cured him.  I’m thinking I may not qualify for the same procedure.  Oddly enough there are Doctor’s in China who are working on performing head transplants.  I’ll keep that one in my back pocket for the future.  It’s a fact that we can maintain our faces and body’s but the neck has a path of destruction like no other.  I remember Bea Arthur’s character in Maude wearing high collared dresses and scarves in every single episode and now I get it.    I’m not one for wearing things around my neck.  I wish I was blessed with one of those long, swan, ballerina necks but I have the…  a couple of inches above the shoulders model.  I came up with a solution for New Year’s Eve and that was a feather collar.  I removed some feathers from a hat from the ’80’s that I no longer wore. I tried it on one day and my head seems to have shrunk because it was sitting too low….covering my eyes to be exact.   I looked like someone from an ancient tribe called the Crow People that emerged from the jungles in the 1990’s…but I’m getting side tracked. The feathers all came off on a seam, which was great, and so I used them as a collar.  I had some feather scrunchies that I bought at Value Village on Halloween and I used them as cuffs.  I also wore one of my favorite things; a 1920’s inspired feather head band that I found in a vintage shop in New York City.   Some of my favorite outfits have been accessorized with two things that I love… feathers and flowers.  I have a lot to say about flowers and I will do that in a future post. My feather-collar inspired outfit needs to be photographed because almost everything from New Year’s Eve is blurry. Go figure. I have, however, posted a photo from the Memory Ball that I attend every year, for Alzheimer’s research, and I am wearing the feather head band. My crystal necklace belonged to my mom and my earrings were made by Lauren Martin who works in the film business in Winnipeg. I’m also wearing a black faux fur stole that I bought at Winners.

Now I’m off to pickup a vintage dresser I won at an auction. I have no idea how I’m going to fit it in my bedroom but I will get it in there, even if my partner and I have to sleep in one of the drawers.

Fifty Schmifty

Fifty Schmifty

When I turned fifty it was weird. There was a big surprise party and music and friends and family ,and yet, I felt a bit creep’d out. I felt ashamed for being that old all of a sudden and I had a flash of my mother, at 50, as she began her descent into the older woman syndrome.
Close cut short permed hair, stretchy pants, an overly embellished sweater and sensible flat shoes. The saggy bum of those shapeless, navy polyester’s, lent the observer to picture a loaded diaper beneath. The gorilla shaped sweater with the huge pieces of reflective mirror,
and plastic gems bedazzled all over it, and those black, faux suede, men’s- slipper inspired ladies’ shoes will never be erased from my memory banks.
My mother had gone from a fashionable woman who bought expensive crepe and silk dresses from Italy to a Sears bargain hunter. It was the 1970’s.
I still have her oldest dresses hanging in my closet. They are gorgeous and timeless …and I can’t fit into a single one. The last time I wore them was at the age of 18 and after that I became “big boned” with “lovely skin”.
When I was very young it was important for me to look like my friends and we all shopped at the same stores and bought the same clothes. We went to the same hair dresser and had the same haircuts. Here is the thing though; everyone has a different body type and skin tone and just because hot pink looks good on my best friend does not mean it looks good on me. In fact, it brought out the rosacea that I didn’t even know existed until it was highlighted by a hideous pink neon.
As I got older, I realized that freedom of expression and creativity could be blasted out to the world through our appearance. A light bulb went off as I entered my punk phase. Stealing my mom’s red, pointy toed, curling boots; shredding a couple of miniskirts; slapping on fishnet tights and hair spraying myself into a spikey rooster, I’d hit the clubs to pogo the night away. I’d look around the scene with my black coal rimmed eyes and see another 75 carbon copies of myself but I still felt like I was a rebel and doing something different. I was an individual.
I then had a chameleon phase in college where I would be whatever the situation called for. If I was going to see The Grateful Dead I would be a hippy. If I was going to see Elvis Costello I was a new wave punk. If I was going to see the B-52’s I had the biggest bee-hive. It allowed me to experiment with different looks and find whatever felt more like me.
At some point, I realized that they were all me.
Turning fifty. Turning fifty gave me an epiphany. I see that with age comes absolute freedom to express yourself. Some rules do apply though: do not wear something so short that you are exposing your sagging arse and, at some point, you’ve got to cover up that Neanderthal wrinkler cleavage. Getting older sucks but there are ways to celebrate the, “I no longer give a shit” period of our lives.
Working in the film business has allowed me to present myself at work in whatever phase I was going through, finally landing where I am today.
My philosophy is this. Dress for how you are feeling. Don’t let your best dresses hang in your closet waiting for the right opportunity to wear them. Combine fancy with casual. Experiment because, at your age, you can be eccentric now.
With some laughs and fashion ,and loads of makeup, I think I’ll get through this next stage of my life,
I hope you enjoy my posts geared for those of us who are in our “golden years”. Barf.