Links for a lazy weekend II

So, the week is over, and both my children have their learner's permits. I will not go into the drama that that particular accomplishment entailed ... suffice to say that I'm having a well-deserved beer and looking forward to some relaxation, grilling, hanging out with friends, and a matinée of a couple of restored Méliès films. If you're trying to have a relaxing weekend, too, try pairing the following posts with your beverage of choice.

If you ever want to work up the nerve to wear anything ... a mohawk, say, or a cute blouse from H&M, or a pair of shorts because even though you're middle-aged, it's pretty effing hot out--and you need a pep talk--read this post by Eve at xoJane.

Just in time for beauty bloggers and others of you heading to New York for BlogHer, Xiao of Messy Wands has written a guide to makeup shopping in Manhattan.

I thought being middle-aged means everything I know is wrong. But can it be true? Matching lips and fingertips are back in style? Somehow I find that comforting.

Elizabeth Arden is one of those brands that I routinely write off as old lady and boring. Leave it to the British Beauty Blogger to convince me to take a second look. I mean, eye shadows that provide anti-aging benefits? Genius.

Katherine of Not Dressed as Lamb shared her thoughts on aging. Here's a teaser:

I won't kid myself that I have Cameron's legs, Thandie's beautiful skin tone or Dita's tiny waist, but I won't even consider comfort without style until Gwyneth does.

Vanessa of NessasaryMakeup gives a fantastic step-by-step tutorial on doing a dramatic smoky eye.  (She also has a nice chart of where to apply eye shadows.)

Want to get into meditation but don't have time? And anyway, meditation would take away from the time you spend looking at pretty things? Check out Chanel makeup director Peter Philip's latest video. Shiny!

I'll work on some more reviews of my Nordstrom anniversary goodies.

Meanwhile, Mesdames et mademoiselles, cultivez vos jardins!

Blissdom, budgets, and baby boomer beauty

This is what 53 looks like.
(Photo by Rachel)

OK, guys, I know I'm way behind on my Blissdom recaps, but I've been so tired. First I go to Nashville and exhaust everyone by blabbing my fool head off to anyone who'll listen.

Then I come back and have to scale Mount Washmore. (For the non-English-majors: I did laundry. Lots of it.)

Then there was a Girl Scout meeting to teach the wee tots about budgets. (A true case of the blind leading the blind. I'm just sayin.)

The whole time, my head was in a whirl. Lack of sleep, excitement, blabbing, Karaoke, and cocktails will do that to me. But on top of those, something has been percolating.

Partly it was seeing hundreds of Tea Party types at the Opryland and wanting so badly to give them a makeover. Partly it's someone at Blissdom advising us to blog our passions--the things we'd be thinking about even if we weren't blogging. And partly it's seeing so many women who need a nudge. They've been focusing on careers, graduate school, or children, and they look up and ten years have gone by and they have no idea about style. Their bodies, complexions, and hair have changed, and they don't know what to do about it.

I've been thinking about this for a long time. Five years ago, I went to a college reunion and was shocked at the way so many of my classmates had just given up. They didn't color their hair. They didn't even style it. They didn't use makeup. They didn't worry about what kinds of clothing would flatter them. And this wasn't the politics of frumpiness. They had given up.

Then and there I vowed never to give up. "As God is my witness," I vowed to my friend Liz, "they'll have to pry my lipstick out of my cold, dead hand."

So I'm going to start blogging about midlife beauty and style. How to take our hard-won wisdom and discernment and use them to defy the aging process.

I'm going to start with a 30 day series: Turn back time in 10 minutes a day.

While I cudgel my brains thinking of 30 days worth of posts, do me a favor and think of questions. Or just tell me this is a good idea. Or tell me where I should be doing it. Should I put it on Poppy Shops? Or start a new blog? And does "baby boomer beauty" sound as dorky as I think it does?

Help me Obi Wan Invisible Internet friends! You're my only help!

Far be it from the middle-aged likes of me to call another woman a cougar

but I'm getting a real



Gloria-Swanson-



as-Norma-Desmond-



the-aging-dotty-silent-movie-diva vibe



from this still of Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City.



What do you think. Am I way off?

Glasses are the new hat

We've all heard variations on the theme of "[blank] is the New Black." Eventually every shade in the spectrum will be called into play because fashion types can't make up their minds: "Brown is the new ... " no, wait ... make that "Pink is the new ..." no wait .... And because all things come to those who stand and wait, eventually, our ears are gladdened by the inevitable ever-so-clever self-referential "Black is the new Black."

Well, whoop de do, fashion types. I have news for you. Glasses are the new black. Or at least, glasses are the new hat.

You see, in old movies--I'm talking movies of the 30s, 40s, and 50s--you know, old--hats were huge. Ladies' hats, that is. Why, in Another Thin Man the witty dialogue was derived from a single source: the repetition of the line "Gee, that's a screwy hat." This peerless jest was delivered by a variety of characters, always in reference to the same hat. It resembled a wide-brimmed off-center unicorn's horn. Yes, it was screwy, but damn, that hat had some serious fun. In a single evening it went to a prize fight and into the jockey's locker room at the local track, and which of us could say the same?

Well, nobody wears hats anymore. Not even Myrna Loy. Oh, maybe we do when it's cold, or when we're pretending to be English, i.e., going to a garden party or an afternoon wedding, or when we want to lie out in the sun with a trashy novel. But basically, hats are not happening.

But remember the hat-centric time when the unhappy housewife would be advised to run out and buy herself a new hat? It seems there was a time, pre-Paxil, when a new hat worked as well or better than a couple of dry martinis as regards preserving the harried housewife's supply of seratonin.

And what does the average housewife got to be depressed about these days? The usual stuff that always bothered us, and one of those things is the ageing process. Which, you will remember, comes accompanied with changes in one's vision. Presbyopia, to be exact.

Well, call me Pollyanna, but why not look at the bright side of going blind? Why not take advantage of this God-given reason to buy yourself some mega-kewl glasses? Skip Lasik, shelve the contact lenses, and have some fun with the fact that you can't read the phone book any more. Take me, for example. I've been having some serious fun with presbyopia ever since I discovered that I couldn't read newspaper headlines, let alone the small print.

My latest pair of glasses, which inspired me to write this in the first place, is purple. And cat's-eyed. On top of that, they're only purple on the outside; the inside of the frames is teal green. Yes, they sound weird, but trust me. They are FABULOUS. The shape flatters my face, the color flatters my complexion, and basically, they're as good as a face lift, except not nearly as expensive and way less painful.

Plus, since along with my new frames I also got a new prescription, I have this dazzling new clarity of vision. It's practically surreal. If you ever sat through the opening sequence of David Lynch's Blue Velvet, you know what life is looking like to me these days.

So back to the subject of hats. Until such time as they come back, glasses are the nearest substitute for something you wear near your face that can give you a whole new look. If you wear glasses and they're over two years' old, they are too old. Go out and buy yourself a new pair right now. Get a pair in a cool shape. Get an emphatic color, too. Gold or silver wire rims are for grannies, baby.

Trust me on this. You take a no-longer-particularly-youthful face and park a pair of cutting edge fashion-forward glasses on its nose, and all of a sudden, things start to happen. Your look now says "I am so not a middle-aged American housewife. I am a European woman of a certain age, cheri." Parking garage attendents and UPS guys will start flirting with you big time.

OK, this might strike some as shallow. But presbyopia is nature's way of letting us know that we're old and wise enough to enjoy a few frivolous pleasures.

Eyes without a face

shar-pei
Originally uploaded by Trilby.

What the hell?

I ask because last night I fell asleep on my daughter's bed at about 9:15. Passed out cold and didn't wake up until 5:00 or so--and that only happened because I was so uncomfortable. She has a twin bed, and she was taking up half of it, her stuffed animals were in another quarter of it, and I was left with only about six inches of mattress. So I had been sleeping on my left side all night in this weird squeezed position, and at 5:00 a.m., my body had finally had enough and woke me up.

When I shuffled into the bathroom to brush my teeth and stuff, this is what I saw in the mirror. The horror! My face was gone--and in its place, some prankster had left ... an accordion!

My mind reeled in dumb shock. And then questions surged forth--questions that I was too thoughtful to ask aloud at five o'clock in the morning, so I'll ask them here. What happened? Who did this to my face? And what am I supposed to do with it now? I don't know how to play the accordion--particularly a sagging, apparently broken one. What am I supposed to do with the damned thing?

Mind you, I do know how to play the piano. So this leaves me with only one question: are Botox shots in order? I hear they do wonders. So maybe, if they're done deftly enough, they can turn an accordion back into a piano.