My, What a Long Time It Has Been (A return to the blogging world)

It has been eight months since I have been active on my blog. Wow.  I have never been away this long.  I admit a part of me feels weird (and a bit guilty) writing something not work-related.  I am a technical writer so 'writing' should come easy.  The words should be flowing but my thoughts, addled with awkwardness, are undermining me.  No,Tara, staring at the screen with your nervous fingers hovering over the keyboard is not going to prove fruitful.  Like a chilly pool on a hot summer day, I cannot slowly ease my way into the water one step at a time.  I have to jump in and get it over with quickly.  Here I am, jumping back in the world of blogging without hesitation (albeit with some reservations).

In the months previous, I had my birthday, went to Viva Las Vegas 17, visited my husband's family in Pennsylvania, traveled to South Florida, got a new tattoo, became one of 'those people' with a FitBit, rediscovered my love of running, visited with my parents (many times), bought some vintage goodies for myself and my home, worked, got a promotion (even though my pay grade is still the same), and began the process of removing my two+ years of black hair color.  I want to go back to my red hair but it is going to be a while before I reach 'color nirvana.'

Viva 17 (the 5th to the 8th of April) was probably my favorite year so far.  Not only did I have three Whirling Turban dresses in my wardrobe, I had an amazing time hanging out with friends, enjoying Las Vegas, dining, dancing, shopping, staying up way too late, and single-handedly helping to increase the stock value of Belvedere Vodka.  Some Viva-goers drink PBR, some enjoy Sailor Jerry Rum, but this girl loves her vodka and tonics.  Yes, indeed.  Pass the lime wedge, please.

Viva came and went (always too quickly it seems) and before I could say "Shaheen," summer was upon us.  Despite the fact the calendar read "June, July, August," the weather in the DC area was a far cry from the iron grip of humidity and stagnant heat that cripples the traffic-clogged, surburban metropolis.  Instead of  summer in DC, the cooler-than-average temperatures made it feel like a 'weekend in Maine.'  I felt cheated while my co-workers and neighbors celebrated a break from the heat.  Luckily, I got my 'heat fix' in August when I visited Boca Raton to spend time with my husband's family.

Before I went to Boca, I got a new tattoo from my amazing artist, Liaa Walter of Cirque du Rouge Tattoo in Washington, DC.  As of this month, Liaa has been my one-and-only artist for two years!  Liaa is not only talented, she is kind, sweet, intelligent, and wonderful to talk to when my skin is getting jabbed. Here is my new piece:

This is a maneki-neko to celebrate the love of my father and to honor him.  My father, who is about to turn 75, has Alzheimer's disease.  This month will mark three years since his official diagnosis.  Daddy has good and bad days along with moments that can be very unsettling.  I try to visit my parents often and I have learned in these last few years to just be there and love each moment.   I cannot fight this process.  I am powerless to stop the progression of Daddy's mental decline.  However, I can keep up my visits, help out whenever I can, call Mom and Daddy everyday, and know that each day Daddy is with us as a gift.

Here is me and Daddy a couple of weeks ago:

Daddy was having a good day.  He was happy, smiling, and we were having a beer after a long walk.  Let me tell you, moments like this make me so filled with joy.  I want to cry but I must find the joy right now.  I have to. I need to.

In addition to traveling, getting a tattoo, family time, and work; I have decided to go from black hair:

To a red shade:

In early September, I started the process to remove over two year's worth of black, 1evel 1B, hair color.  I enjoyed my dark hair but it is time for something new.  Since I was born a redhead (even though most of the golden red tones have naturally faded), my new color is easier to maintain because I will be able to go six weeks between salon touch-ups instead of four.  My next appointment will be in two weeks (last one was on the 19th of September).  I am excited to see how my hair will turn out!

I am all caught up and I got my 'blogging legs' back.  You know what?  It feels good to be back.

How Skiing and Colorado Changed My Life

In December 1996, I went to Breckenridge, Colorado for my first ski vacation.  I was still in college, 21 years old, and a new bride (married in May of that year).  After retrieving our luggage from the airport, the in-laws, husband, and I made our way west toward the mountains.  I was surprised at how flat Aurora and the greater Denver area was!   Instead of a cozy alpine landscape ripe with majestic, snow-covered peaks; the terrain was a smooth prairie that was drab and brown due to winter's steely grip. However, as we drove further into the foothills past Denver, I caught my first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains through the 'Picture Frame Bridge' that straddled Interstate 70.  In this very moment, I knew instantly Colorado was a place of magic and wonder.

There is something about mountains, snow, and skiing that just stir my soul.  I feel alive, like I am capable of anything.  I think I can attribute these sentiments to my heritage.  My father was born and raised in northern Norway (Lofoten) where skiing and snow are part of daily life.  It snows in Lofoten for a majority of the year and for almost as long as there has been snow and people, skiing has played a huge role in Norwegian culture and history.

The above photo is my father, age 5 or 6 (circa 1945/46)

As my father used to say, "In Norway, if you can walk, you can ski."  Most children learn to ski at a very early age.  I, however, learned to ski at 13 in Norway.  I was there with my parents, visiting my father's side of the family for the the first time.  It was an amazing experience.  I loved meeting family members I had never met, learning to ski with my dad, eating my aunt's delicious food, and seeing the Northern Lights.  The entire trip brought out something in me that has stayed with me to this day.  This especially applies to my love of skiing.


During the first days I was learning to ski, kids my age and younger were flying down the mountain like Lindsay Vonn and Stein Eriksen.  Me?  Well, not only was I embarrassed by my lack of skills,  I looked like a cross between a newborn baby deer and the "agony of defeat guy" from the 80s ABC TV Show "Wide World of Sports."  I tried my best to master my skis and even though it took me a few weeks, I finally got the hang of it.  By the end of the visit, I was begging my dad to take me out to the mountains. I was hooked.

By the time I went to Breckenridge in '96, seven years had gone by since I strapped on a pair of skis.  The first day on the slopes, I was nervous.  Nervous? No, that is not the right word.  I was terrified.  That is it, "terrified."  Due to my shattered confidence, my husband suggested I take a ski lesson.  I begrudgingly agreed and the next day, I made my way to meet my instructor and fellow ski students. 

My instructor was a South American with a tall, lithe build.  His melodic accent was charming.  His tan face, weathered from sun, wind, and cold painted a stark contrast against the shock-white snow.  My heart was pounding and I felt like a teenager who just transferred to a new school and it was the first day of class. "But, I am not gonna know anybody!" 

The students were all adults, mostly couples.  None of them had skied before.  This made me feel better.  Not that I wanted to compete with anyone but the ski lessons with my dad were sure to come in handy.  As the day unfolded, I noticed the other students were falling down, skiing in a wedge (skis in a triangle pattern), their poles going in all directions, or going really slow.  One woman from Mexico City was saying in Spanish, "Make it stop! No! No! NO! I do not want to do thiiissssss!" 

The woman slid down the mountain, picking up speed, and like an out of control 18-wheeler with a blow-out going down a steep decline, she fell fast and hard.  YARD SALE! (This is what skiers say when we see ski equipment (skis/poles) scattered all over the hill).  I quickly skied down to her and then out of nowhere, I hockey-stopped (a quick parallel turn where your skis swoop together and you stop suddenly). I bent down to see if she was ok and she said she was fine but embarrassed and wanted to quit.  I felt bad for her.

As I was about to ski down to the rest of the group, I saw my instructor looking at me with a sly grin.  As I approached, he asked loudly, "Where did THAT come from?!"  I realized, "Oh wow! He's right. My dad taught me that. I have not done in years!"  I looked the instructor and said, "I have skied before but it has been seven years since my last time. Things are starting to come back to me now. Weird, huh?" He smiled and laughed, his white teeth sparkling with delight, "No! That is a gooooood thing! Awesome, duude! Awesome! Now, let's see what you can really do!"  

By the end of the day, I am telling you, I felt like I had skied every day since that first day in Norway.  Something unlocked in my body and mind.  My legs, my arms, and whole body found their rhythm.  I felt like I was born to  ski. 

After 1996, I did not ski again until 2005.  Unlike the first Colorado trip, I found myself with 25 extra pounds on my body.  My cardiovascular capacity was non-existent.  I was 29 years old, about to be 30 in a couple of months but I felt like I was 99.  Unlike the success of my '96 visit, this time around was awful, especially in the first days.  Every time I fell, my ski pants would pop open and I had to struggled to fasten them.  My heart thumped like it was pumping mud.  I was sweaty, tired, frustrated, and I felt fat.  Despite being able to "get my ski legs back" eventually, the '05 Breckenridge trip was an epic fail.  As I was packing my skis up the day before flying back to DC, I said "Forget it.  I am not doing this anymore."

When I turned 30, I experienced something I can only describe as life-changing.  I was 155 pounds, wore a size 12/14, my blood pressure was 150/90.  My doctor advised me to lose "at least 15 pounds" on at least two occasions.  For a while, I ignored her advice.  I avoided mirrors and every huff and puff I exerted walking up and down stairs was conveniently forgotten.  I ate McDonald's, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, and Ben and Jerry's every day.

But a month after 30, I woke up in my mother's house in tears.  It was Mother's Day and I knew, I was NOT fine.  I was sad.  I was unhealthy.  And dammit, I wanted to ski again!  I needed to ski again.  In that moment, in my pjs, I said, "This ends now."

The next day, Monday the 9th of May, 2005, I called my doctor and made an appointment.  My visit was in mid-June. I weighed in at 154.6.  I wanted to cry.  I thought, "How could I let things get like this and stay like this for so long?"  The nurse staff took two vials of blood and my doctor gave me a physical.  A week later, I received a call that my blood pressure was a bit high and my cholesterol was 198.  I was told to make another appointment for a follow up and to create a "game plan"  for my health.  In July, my doctor gave me a diet and exercise plan.  I was also instructed to keep a daily journal to keep track of my food, workouts, and progress.  It was hard at first and I felt like screaming many times. I  wanted to eat pizza and New York Super Fudge Chunk! Forget this hummus and celery junk!"

In December of 2005, I had my final weigh-in.  I was 122 pounds!  I wanted to pass out!  I did it!!!  I felt incredible.  I knew that when February of 2006 came (time for the annual ski trip), I would be so ready!

A few days before my ski venture, I tried on my previous year's ski clothes.  I was practically drowning in them.  They were huge!  I went to the local ski shop, Ski Chalet, to buy new gear but all I could find in my size (size 4/6 in ski wear, not street wear), were ski pants.  I had to borrow a ski jacket from my sister.  It fit beautifully.  Within days, I was back in Colorado and I was so happy.  My spirit felt lifted.  My heart fluttered with joy as my strong lungs breathed in the crisp, clean, cold mountain air.  This was pure bliss.  I was where I wanted to be and where I NEEDED to be.

I made my way over to the Beaverun Quicksilver chair lift and got on.  My new body felt light, yet powerful.  The lift gently glided me over the pearly slopes, glistening with fresh hope and promise.  The moment my ski tips touched the snow-covered ground as I pushed away from the chair, I let out a loud "Whooooo!" A few people looked over at me.  Oh well, they can stare, I didn't care. I felt good!

I skied down ski runs with ease.  I felt like I was flying.  Runs and turns that were difficult to navigate the previous year were now a cake walk.  As I returned to the lift at the base of Peak 9, I hockey-stopped my skis and the lift attendant scanned my lift ticket.  I could not stop smiling.  The attendant asked, "Having a good day?" I replied, "You know it, dude!" I got back on the lift and thought, "I am home."

It is my father's love of skiing that introduced me to the sport and thus, Colorado.  Further, it was my love of skiing and Colorado that made me the healthier and stronger woman I am today.  So, with that said, I say "I am thankful, I am grateful. Daddy, Colorado, I love you. You are both my most precious treasures."

New Tattoos!

Tattoos!  Whether you have them or not and whether you like them or not, tattoos are a fixture in the rockabilly/vintage culture.  Despite the fact that mainstream society still hesitant to accept body art, I have never felt more proud to collect and display my tattoos! 

One morning in late May 2000, I woke up and decided I wanted a tattoo.  I was 25 years old and about to start graduate school.  I was the antithesis of the impulsive 18 year-old hellbent on getting drunk and "getting inked."  I was a married, mild-mannered travel agent with a mortgage who was eager to earn a Master's Degree in Spanish.  By the end of the day, I had a simple black star tattoo on my lower left back/upper hip.  The entire piece took 10 minutes and was the size of a quarter.  I loved it.  A couple of months later, I found myself getting another tattoo, a Celtic design that was larger, boasted some color, and located on my upper back, between my shoulders.  That piece was a bit more painful and as a result, I told myself I was "done" with tattoos.   Less than a year later, I had a black line moon tattoo on my lower right leg/ankle.  So much for "being done."

Regardless of my suburban and professional life,  I continued to get more tattoos.  I am not sure if my fascination with tattoos stems from being an artist but there is just something about body art that enchants me. Nevertheless, as I ventured further into the world of ink, I transitioned from small, basic black outline pieces to large, full-color designs.  Whenever I completed a tattoo session, I thought, "that's it. This time I am done." Nope.  Not by a long shot.

In early 2007, I was preparing for my annual Colorado ski trip 2008 and I had this idea that it would be "cool" for me to get a half-sleeve cherry blossom and snowflake tattoo.  I thought there's no better way to capture my love of Colorado than getting tattooed in Colorado.  With this burning scheme in my head, I called a tattoo studio in Breckenridge and made an appointment for the last full day I was in town. 

On the morning of my appointment, I woke up feeling a nervousness I never experienced.  All of the tattoos I sat for previously were small and quick.  This tattoo, however, would be the first "big piece."  I took a few deep breaths and told myself I could do it.  Later that afternoon, I met my artist, Kauri Tiyme, and after filling out necessary paperwork, I sat in her chair and the next five and a half hours flew by!  When Kauri was done, I had a masterpiece on my skin.  I felt amazing.  I had the privilege of sitting in Kauri's chair for five more sessions, continuing in late summer of 2007 and ending on the 24th of September 2008.  Sadly, on the 22nd of October, 2008, Kauri was killed.  In the wake of Kauri's untimely and unfair death, I did not get tattooed for four years.  I couldn't.  I felt like if I got another tattoo, I would be cheapening Kauri's memory.

However, a year ago, I had a talk with a good friend of Kauri's and she told me that Kauri would have wanted me to move on and that the process of getting tattooed again could be a way to "let go" of the sorrow I was harboring for so long. 

In October 2012, I sat for beautiful alpine forget-me-not floral and starburst tattoo with artist Liaa Walter of Cirque Du Rouge Tattoo studio in Washington, D.C.  I had the piece done on my inner left forearm.  After our session was over, I felt a cleansing and lifting that I cannot describe.  Words will never do it justice. 

Since last fall, Liaa has touched up a couple of tattoos and created two lovely pieces for me.  In May, I had my father's words added to a flower tattoo I had done in 2006 and then fixed by Kauri in 2008.

As some of you may recall, my father has Alzheimer's and as a result, he is not able to write much anymore.  This tattoo was created by tracing my dad's words he wrote to me in a letter on my 18th birthday.  A couple of years ago, I found the letter whilst sorting through storage bins in my closet.  This letter is one of my prized possessions and I can so happy Liaa captured the little subtleties and nuances of my father's once beautiful handwriting. 

And just last week, Liaa covered up my very first tattoo, the ugly star, with this gorgeous peony bowl of beauty flower:

I sat for this tattoo for nearly two hours.  Let me tell you, it hurt. It hurt like hell.  Due to the proximity of my spine, the nerve-endings are very sensitive because they branch out from the vertebrae. Thus, this was one painful piece.  Despite the "ow factor," I am simply overjoyed with the stunning outcome!  Moreover, in late October, on the afternoon of Halloween to be exact, I am going back to Liaa so she can touch up my Celtic design and add more to it.  That tattoo is going to be a bit "squirrely," but I know I will endure. 

http://www.westword.com/2009-01-08/news/in-life-and-death-tattoo-artist-kauri-tiyme-made-her-mark/

http://liaawalter.com/home.html

"Girl World" Strikes at the Makeup Counter

First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my absence!  This summer has been chock-full of travel, work, a vicious cold, sick kitties, and more work.  Nevertheless, now that life is seemingly 'back to normal' (what is "normal" anyway?), I am anxious to jump back into blogging!

With that said, I would like to address the post at hand: Girl World.  What exactly is "Girl World" you ask?  Let me explain.  Girl World is what I deem the subtle nuances, behaviors, and that energies that occur between women.  When we are young, we learn quickly what sly glances signify and how whispers literally speak volumes.  Moreover, we become familiar with the way a girlfriend can say "I'm fine" but we know she's is not.  With a few questions along with that look that says, "Girl, I am here fore you. You can lean on me," she's confiding in you.

As we age, we develop a sixth sense that heralds a power that can be used for "good and evil." This sixth sense so-to-speak can be an amazing tool to reach out and connect with the other women in our lives. However, this same element can be utilized for sinister intents like spreading gossip, being catty, and basically talking smack to bring down your fellow sisters-in-arms.

To the outside world, the delicate and elusive forces at play go unnoticed. A snicker accompanied by a fast glance can often be construed as mere happenstance but in Girl World, it's a crushing cacophony of alienation and shame.  We know they are talking about us.  We feel it.  In Girl World, we have a language all our own and we know it.

So, let me tell you how Girl World came to "strike" at Macy's Impulse Beauty in Boca Raton Town Center in Boca Raton, Florida.  In early June, I went to Boca Raton to visit family and one day, I went to the Inglot counter for some needed products.  As I approached the counter, I noticed a sales associate sitting in a chair at the adjacent Benefit counter.  She sneered at me and turned to other employees and loudly stated, "I am NOT helping her."  I was shocked. What? Did she just say that out loud?  She knows I can hear, right?  Wow.  Just Wow. 

After a deep breath and not wanting to get upset, I proceeded to browse at the various eyeshadows, pencils, and lipsticks.  Within a few minutes, the Inglot sales associate came over and assisted me with my purchase.  I ended up buying stuff because I wanted it but I really wanted to walk away and deny them the satisfaction of that sale.  In addition, as the Inglot associate rang up my final purchase at the register, I overheard hushed voices saying, "Oh my god! I know! Her dress! Ha ha ha!!"  The sales associate at the register was trying hard to keep a straight face as her colleagues carried on like bitchy teenage wannabes.  I could tell she was in on the joke at my expense yet I did not have the chutzpah to say anything.  Dammit.  I feel like my makeup lust made me into a sitting duck, gossip fodder, and basically a sucker.  I walked away and went back to my in-laws, feeling shitty.

When I returned home to D.C., I immediately filed a complaint with Macy's regarding my experience.  I will tell you this, despite my cosmetic addiction and admiration for Inglot, I will NEVER EVER set foot in that Macy's again. 

Even though I took the high road, I so wanted to tell those women to "**** Off!"  I wanted to say, "Hey bitches!  I know you are throwing shade at me! Cancel the sale! Where the **** is your supervisor?!" But, I didn't.   I walked away.  Was my lady-like demeanor and handling of the situation not the right way to conduct myself?  I think I have more to lose if I "lose my cool."  How do I navigate Girl World while holding my head high?

Getting Back on the Horse (ie Blogging) Again

Before I begin, I would like to apologize for being away.  Here it is April and I have not written a post nor commented on anyone's blog since October, 2012! I could regale you all with my tale why I have been away but it would be a loooong post. They say, "spin a yarn," but in my case it would be "make sweaters for an entire platoon!" With that said, I will spare you all the "nitty gritty" explaining my absence. However, I will tell you some of it. Not that I have anything to hide,  I just want to keep things on point (vintage topics).

In October 2012, I had a new tattoo done! After four years of waiting, I finally had new artwork. The experience was bittersweet but worth it when it was completed.

In November, Thanksgiving came and went. After the holiday, my husband and I began the process of refinancing our home and we did major renovations. The inside of the house was covered in tarps and plastic due to spackle, paint, and sanding. The updates continued during December and ended just before New Year's Eve! (I will post pictures soon.) Nevertheless, trying to enjoy and celebrate the Holidays while doing renovations proved to be a challenge of epic proportions but we managed to pull it off!

As some of you are aware, my father has Alzheimer's.  In the last couple of years since his official diagnosis, I have been helping Mom and Dad with running errands, doctor visits, and just being there for both of them. Dad has good days and not-so-great ones but overall, he's doing well considering the circumstances. Now that warmer weather is coming, I know Dad will be even better because he and Mom can get out and go for walks and spend time in the yard to do some needed gardening. My father's neurologist tells us that physical activity is vital for Dad's health and well-being.

As 2012 became 2013, my work schedule increased as did my gym workouts. Last July, I found myself 14-15 pounds heavier due to bad food choices and lazy excuses for not making myself run or lift weights. I cut out alcohol for a month last summer and now I barely drink anymore. I turned 38 last week and I know maintaining my health and body weight is only going to get more difficult. Whether my life is super busy or not, the gym will not be sacrificed!

In early March, Big Daddy (aka the husband) and I went skiing for over a week in Colorado. It was such an amazing trip! We both were so excited to go after a three-year hiatus! 

We skied every day, dined out, enjoyed evening cocktails, watched the snow fall as we soaked in the hot tub outside our condo, and simply took in all the wonder the Rockies gloriously bestowed upon us.

Upon our return home, I realized we had two weeks before we had to travel again for Viva Las Vegas 16! I washed and put away all the ski clothes and got out all the Hawaiian dresses, cocktail frocks, Polly shoes, and playsuits. I went to the dry cleaners, had dresses taken in, got the hair color refreshed, and packed (again!).

This year's Viva came and went so fast!

I will do a Viva post soon! I got lots of great photos this year! Nevertheless, it was a fabulous Viva and it was so wonderful seeing a lot of my fellow bloggers too!

Speaking of blogging, while I was at Viva, I had quite a few people come up to me and introduce themselves. A few asked, "Are you the DC Metro Retro?" I was stunned and flattered! People read my blog?! I also had some ask why I had not posted anything for a while. I did not go into crazy detail, but I explained being busy with work and my Dad.

After I got home from Las Vegas, I thought about the people who asked about my blog and it got me thinking: why am I making excuses about not blogging? I am a writer for my work and even though 'work writing' can be exhausting, I enjoy writing. Simply put, I love writing. Period. I need to write and it is very "zen" for me. I feel a calm and a sense of peace when I write and yet, there I was, month after month, shying away from one of the things I probably needed the most.

With all of this said, I am back and back with an energy that is burning! I have so many posts I want to talk about. I also have so many fabulous blogs I need to catch up and comment on!

So, here I am, ready to blog, ready to rock. Yeah, I said it, "rock." Let's do this!

A Journey of Understanding My Makeup!

This is me in 1992. It was late August, a week before my senior year began. I was 17 and when it came to makeup, I had no clue! My brows were penciled in using a Maybelline pencil that was too orange-red for my skin and hair color, (and my technique was too heavy-handed), I did not wear the proper foundation shade,  my eyes were too-heavily lined, and if you look closely, you can see I have a "beauty mark" above my lip. It's true; I used my mom's Cover Girl brown eyeliner everyday to create that mark.  I was inspired by Cindy Crawford and yes, Madonna.

As a little girl, I would watch my older sister put on her blue eyeshadow quad by Aziza that she bought at the local drugstore. I was amazed with her mascara technique and with the frosty nude lipstick she wore. I so wanted to be like my older sister! Tan, blonde, and with makeup to die for. 

When my mother and father allowed me to start wearing makeup in 8th grade (albeit very minimal), I was so excited and yet so overwhelmed. I had no idea what colors to wear or how to apply them. I would read the beauty tips in "Teen"Magazine that would read like:

"Wear a brown mascara only on top lashes to open eyes."
"If lashes are darker in color, use a clear mascara for creating shape."
"Wear light concealer and an oil-absorbing pressed powder."
"Adorn the apples of cheeks with a blush color that mimics your natural blush."

For one, what the heck are the apples of my cheeks?! I have apples on my face?! Where!? Secondly, how would I know which shades of powder  and/or concealer would be appropriate? I only had the local drugstore and grocery store makeup brands at my disposal so opening the packaging to swatch colors was impossible. Even if I could "try before I buy," how could my 13/14 year-old self know what looked right? I mean, if I thought blue frost eyeshadow was hot, I would surely be hopeless in other areas!

As I got older, I learned what worked and what didn't work for me through trial and error.  After much practice, I started to do better eye looks, better blending techniques, apply false eyelashes, and do face contouring. When I was able to spend money on brands like MAC, Urban Decay, Giorgio Armani, Chanel, and Make Up For Ever, I invested in good quality lipsticks,  shadows, liners, foundations, and brushes. Let me tell you, a set of high calibre brushes is critical when it comes to better makeup application! 

So, here I am at almost 37 and I am still learning new makeup techniques and tricks! And I hope I never stop learning! For example, just two weeks ago I learned how to properly contour my nose! I have an average-sized nose but wow, it is amazing what a little contour powder and an angled brush can do! 

Nevertheless, here I am this past Saturday morning before going out with friends. At this point, I had just showered with a shower cap on to keep my hair dry (I was going to do rolls). Moreover, I had not even had my coffee yet!

This is me, with no makeup on. Can we say, "eugh!?"

But with a good knowledge of makeup technique paired knowing which colors best suit me, I can transform into this:

So, what makeup follies have you endured? What have you girls learned along the way?

Have We Become "Too Casual" In Modern Society?

This past weekend, I started reading my new (1955 edition) Emily Post Etiquette book I bought off Etsy.com (only $8.00 USD!), I visited Old Town Alexandria with my sister, niece, and nephew, and yesterday afternoon I watched the last two Season 3 episodes of Mad Men on AMC (they are re-showing two episodes from previous seasons on Sunday mornings).

On Saturday, I met with my sister and the kids (ages 17 and 15) and we spent the afternoon visiting the shops in Old Town before enjoying a fantastic meal at a quaint Italian restaurant. It was so fun hanging out with family while browsing the racks in a few consignment boutiques, including an overpriced vintage store that seemed to think 80s and 90s was 'vintage.' I did, however, find a beautiful 50s lucite and silvertone metal 'basketweave' bag on display in a window but it was scratched and filthy (yet they wanted $145.00 for it).

Before heading out to meet my sister, I shook off my lazy morning repose, put my makeup on, and dressed. I wore a 50s plaid wool pencil skirt, stockings, saddle shoes, a 50s black wool collared cardigan, pearls, and a lightweight, 50s era cashmere and alpaca blend, taupe-colored coat. Basically, I was wearing my usual Fall attire. Nothing 'fancy,' it was just another day like any other.

As the gang and I walked around town, I noticed quite a few people staring at me like I was a crazy woman. I get the odd look now and again (especially here in the DC area) but I am used to it. But, the number of stares seemed to be peculiarly high. Most of the 'gawkers'  were clad in North Face jackets, jeans, baseball hats, and college hoodies.

(Above: my alma mater)

I have nothing against hoodies or North Face. As an avid skier, I have several North Face items I love and rely on heavily during season. I even have a GMU hoodie and tee. I graduated from Mason twice (BA and MA). I often wear my hoodie and/or tee to the gym, when I am cleaning house, or when I am sick.  I know 'style' is a personal choice. If someone wants to wear hoodies to a nice restaurant or a baseball hat to Sunday brunch, who am I to judge? And more importantly, how does one's clothing (especially a stranger) effect me? In addition, how does *my* choice to wear vintage effect others? The answer to those questions is, "it doesn't."

Not taking personal taste into consideration, I would like to know why we, as a society, have become so casual. When did a nice hat, suit, and tie morph into "business casual?"

For example, these two looks below:

Became these:

The suit, tie, and hat have been replaced with untucked blouses, shapeless blazers, and tieless, unbuttoned shirts paired with pleated Dockers. Instead of day dresses and a sharp sweater (for the gents) on the weekend, we see hoodies and baseball hats.

This casual vein has permeated every locale from the workplace, weekend errands, sporting events, airline travel to cruising. When I was little, I actually remember dressing up whenever my family and I travelled on a plane. Even when we dined out, all of us dressed nicely. Nowadays, whether it's seat 11B on United Flight 916 non-stop to Denver or the corner table by the window in Ruth's Chris, people wear everything from Juicy Couture tracksuits to Old Navy tees.

On a recent flight to Fort Lauderdale, I saw a mother and teen daughter decked out in matching Victoria's Secret "Pink" tracksuits. What is funny is how the mom looked at me (wearing a 50s warm weather suit) like I was yesterday's garbage. Her face actually made a wide-eyed, scrunched nose look. Priceless.

Again, I am not judging anyone for their choice of wardrobe. I am trying to figure out how dressing super casual became the norm. Also, why do I get odd looks when I am dressed nicely and tastefully? Now, I am sure the main reason(s) people stare is simply because I wear vintage. I understand that seeing seamed stockings and saddle shoes on someone nowadays is not typical whatsoever! Despite the vintage element, I am still dressed well. I do not judge others' style. Sure, there is a part of me that wants to "call them out" on their audacity to stare at me like I am the weirdo when they look like they stumbled out bed. But, I refrain from doing so. It's not fair nor it is my place.

So, the questions are: why did "casual" become mainstream? And, is there such a thing as 'too casual?'

A Fist Full of Sundays

As of late, I seems like I am wavering between actively posting on this blog and periods of absolute stagnation. "Feast or famine, "all or nothing," "stationary and static."

 Despite my chaotic absenteeism, I do have 'good reason' for my lapse in posting and leaving comments on others' blogs. My father has been going through some health issues and as a result, I have been spending a majority of my time travelling between my parents' house and mine. I am experiencing a sense of deja vu as I write this. (I have already stated this in previous posts).

I feel like my current mood is like Morrissey's song, "Every Day is Like Sunday."  The images of closed stores, listlessly walking down a cold, empty boardwalk, and wishing to be somewhere, ANYWHERE, else harbors a sense of familiarity. The hours spent driving back and forth, the doctor visits, trips to the store, drives to the shops, and the endless barrage of unpacking, packing, and doing laundry make the days seem seamless. The days blend together like the packet of Splenda melting into my morning coffee.

In spite of my blasse state of mind, I would do all of this over and over again. My parents need me and my love for them erodes any desire to kvetch about my situation.

What makes these current state of affairs difficult is seeing my dad enduring all of this. Regardless of what is going on with my father, he is strong and he positive outlook is inspiring. As for my mother, she has been through a lot already this year. She lost a sister and a cousin over the summer.So, whenever she calls me, I am there, ready to hop in the car at any given notice.

I am not sure what to think and/or feel right now. I waffle between feeling super positive to feeling totally vexed. I have been so busy travelling, I have neglected the gym and my blog again. And writing and working out is probably what I need right now, big time.  I need to conquer this "listless Sunday" feeling.  It seems to be hovering over me like an old itchy, heavy wool blanket, ready to pounce.

I cannot allow myself to wallow in worry and indulge in empty stares out my living room window. I need to be the beacon of positive energy for myself and my parents. I need to trade in this "fist of Sundays" in for mornings at the gym and projects on my sewing machine. I find that when I am active and busy, I am happier. But whenever  I feel this "meh" attitude, it tends to steer me away from what brings me focus and inner peace. Funny how that works, isn't it?

While I cannot promise that I will be "super blogger gal," I will try. (Heck knows I need it!) Nevertheless, I look forward to connecting with you all. I miss you, gals and your great blogs!

If You Can't Make It, Fake It! (Or faking it until it grows back!)

This is me, decked out in my kimono, about to start my entire skincare routine before bed. Moreover, this is how my hair looks in its natural state. You may not be able to notice but my hair is very fine and thin. I began to shed a lot of hair back in late July. Even though I have been using Women's Rogaine for two years, the stress I endured this summer took its toll on my already thin strands.  In an effort to thwart any panic or further stress on myself, I began taking B-vitamins along with Biotin. I also went to see my dermatologist in late September who confirmed my hair loss was indeed stress-related and therefore, temporary!

So, until my hair grows back, I am going to continue my normal regime and wear a volumizing extension on a few days I wear my hair down. I love wearing my hair down but due to the shed, I feel my hair does not look its best and as a result, I have been wearing my hair in a ponytail or snood. However, with this lightweight hair piece, my hair confidence will be given a major boost!

The extension is made of human hair and comes on a 8-inch long weft with four small clips. The hair itself is 10 inches long.

http://www.voguewigs.com/10-in-easivolume-328-extension-easihair.html

Today my stylist Corry refreshed my red color and colored my new extension to match. He also trimmed it so it would better blend with my own hair and he also taught me how to properly place it in my hair.

Now, this is the back of my hair without the extension:

Here is the back with it in:

(I switched to my other bathroom. The lighting in my guest bath is too yellowy.)

Here is a front view with the hair piece in:

A view of the piece clipped in:

On the sides:

The extension itself:

And here is my cat, Misty Blue, yelling at me to brush her hair. She does this every night. She knows that when I am the bathroom at night (and in the morning), I do my grooming and she expects me to groom her as well. My cat actually recognizes my brush and understands the action of brushing.  Even if i simply I pick up my brush, Misty Blue will come running in the bathroom and demand I brush her (LOUDLY). I am telling you, this cat thinks she is a woman. A showgirl, diva, princess, queen bee, 'star of the show' woman!

Nevertheless, I am going to tough out this re-growing process. I am not going to let it get to me any more because stress makes hair fall out!  I also realize that at the end of the day, hair is hair. I count my blessings that all I have to worry about is thin hair!

But, I do acknowledge fully that I let that element of vanity get to me. When I see women with thick tresses, I do feel a pang of envy and wonder but in the end, I know I am going to be fine. I can already see new hair growing back. Up close, the new growth looks like tiny, pale blond sprouts. (New hair tends to come in pale and then develops its pigment as it grows out in most individuals).

Until my hair is filled in, I am going to rock out the fake (albeit human) hair. Like Corry once told me, "If you can't make it, fake it!"

A Tale of the Neglectful Blogger

Again, I find myself being a 'lazy blogger.' I have been busy with work and some family things but for the most part, my absence from the blogging world is mainly due to not making time for writing. Writing is very therapeutic for me and when I am tense, I should turn to writing and not compound my stress by turning away from it.

With that said, I want to apologize for not commenting and posting on your blogs. I truly enjoy reading, learning, and interacting with all of you. Your blogs are wonderful sources of information and fun! In the past year and a half, I have met so many wonderful, like-minded vintage gals who have taught me everything from makeup application, hair styling, clothing, interior design, sewing, knitting, music, and so on. I also love reading about your sewing projects, the events you go to, the bands you see, and the people you meet. Overall, your blogs make me feel that I am not alone when it comes to my vintage obsessions!

So, when it comes to certain things that bring us joy, why do we often turn away and/or neglect those elements in times when we need them the most? As some of you may know, this summer was hellacious for me. I lost two aunts, my father has had some health issues, my mother is in mourning, and as a result from all the stress, I started to lose my hair (thankfully it was temporary).

For almost four months, I did not set one foot in the gym. I occasionally ran on my treadmill at home but I didn't feel a sense of accomplishment and one-ness with myself when I was done. It was like I was in a constant state of 'meh.' Like writing, working out is very cleansing and rewarding for me. I love that sensation of strength working out gives me and yet, there I was avoiding it like a disease.

A month ago, I decided 'enough was enough' and I literally dragged my lazy butt to the gym. As I struggled with weights that were previously easier to manage, I felt a rush of "ahhhhhh" and I realized *this* was what I was missing. I needed to get away from the stress by tackling the malaise that seemed to permeate my skin like stale cigar smoke. By the end of my routine, I was tired but it was a 'good tired.'

So, here I am writing, and I love it. I know that despite my knee-jerk reaction to go inward in times of stress, I have to rebel against my blasé self and do the things that may seem like an effort but in the end, bring me incredible joy.  In a sense, I am telling myself, "I am doing this for your own good!"

Finding Meaning and Peace After Being Robbed (My Car was broken into, again)

Fairfax County Motor Officer, circa late 40s. Photo courtesy of Fairfax County Police Online.

On the morning of the 22nd of September, 2011, I got into my car to go to the gym before heading off to work and I noticed the interior was disheveled. One of my back seats was flipped down, revealing the trunk and the center console compartment was ransacked. Sometime during the wee hours of the night, a thief and/or thieves made off with my road-side emergency kit and get this, my window break hammer. 

This is not the first time my car has been a victim of theft. In June 2010, my car's back window was smashed and my work laptop was stolen.

http://bettysvintagemusings.blogspot.com/2010/06/rant.html

The fact this happened again makes me very mad. But unlike the first incident, I had a camera recording the whole thing. In the aftermath of having my car window destroyed, property taken, and having to wait two months to have my window replaced, my husband decided to take action by installing cameras in various locations on our home.

After realizing my car was indeed robbed, I went back inside my house and notified my husband. Then for an hour, he and I both scanned hours of overnight footage until we finally found the frames showing a young male (probably high school age) pulling up to the curb in a light-colored car with an unseen accomplice at 1:16 a.m. The kid i.e. "ASSHAT" is seen attempting to access to my husband's car (with no success) and then observed gaining entry to mine. (Like a total idiot, I left my car unlocked). This brat rummaged in my car for a few minutes before making off with my auto kit and car hammer. I mean, really, kid? You just *had* to steal a 10 dollar car hammer? You are either really stupid or just a loser so desperate to prove to your friends how "gangster" you are. Piece of shit.

Sorry about the language but I admit it. I am mad. What gets me is how stupid someone would have to be to risk getting caught, possibly getting charges pressed, and going before a judge over something as trivial as 10 bucks. Moreover, how can anyone (young or not) think it's okay and/or 'cool' to steal from people? Have they no conscience? When I was 5, I stole a piece of 5 cent "Bazooka Joe" bubble gum from the local 7-11. My dad heard me fiddling with the wrapper in the backseat of our 70s station wagon and he promptly drove me back to the store to pay the clerk and say I was sorry. I was bawling, shaking, and scared! I thought for sure I was going to jail! Even though it was just a bit of gum, I remember the guilt and shame I felt. With that said, how can people steal 'real things' can sleep peacefully at night?

Despite my surly mood and wanting to punch that kid, I took a deep breath and called the non-emergency number for the police. Within 20 minutes, an officer arrived. He took my statement, dusted and printed my car, and my husband made him a CD of the camera footage detailing the theft. Before the officer left, he asked if I wanted to press charges if the kid was caught, I said "Heck yes!" Even though the items that were taken do not add up to much, I want to make a point that actions have consequences.

In spite of my previous chagrin, I am okay now. No one was hurt, my car was not damaged, and nothing of major value was taken. I have done all I can with the police so the only thing now is to let it go and to be more diligent when it comes to locking my car!

"Hey, Ugly!" Grappling With That Little Voice In My Head

A while back, the fabulous Penny Dreadful of "Penny Dreadful Vintage" Blog did an outstanding post about body image:

 http://pennydreadfulvintage.blogspot.com/2011/03/body-confidence-how-i-got-over-myself.html

This post got me thinking about my own "body confidence" and it made me realize that not only am I my own worst critic, I am not alone when it comes to self-image.

I have never been one to think of herself as "pretty." When my mother recently asked me if I thought of myself as pretty, I responded, "If I had to answer, I would say 'normal.'  I am not ugly but I am not pretty either." My mother expressed concern. I would expect her to. She has a mother's bias because like most mothers, she sees all her children as beautiful.

However, when it comes to my intelligence and wit, I am quite confident and happy. I just wish I could feel the same way about my appearance. Throughout the years, I decided to focus on being smart because I never felt pretty, especially when I compared myself to other girls/women. (This was particularly the case when I was at Viva). So, every day I put my makeup on, do my hair, workout, eat well, and just try to be me.

I know I judge myself too harshly. I see flaws that perhaps no one else does. To others, they may see a just a vintage-clad, redheaded gal with a streak of blond in her hair while I see an awkward girl with a chubby face, thin hair, big bum, and short legs.

Nevertheless, I suspect my acerbic self-criticisms stem from an expectation that others judge me.  Basically, I judge myself before others have the chance. That way, I can anticipate any hurt feelings and therefore soften the blow.

But here's the thing, no one is standing around, lining up to pick my looks apart. No one is 'chomping at the bit' to put me under a microscope to better study my flaws. It is human nature for us to be harsh on ourselves but I shouldn't allow this trait to render me vulnerable and I wind up classifying myself as 'ugly.'

Some days are better others in the 'looks department.' For example, days when the hair refuses to cooperate, when my 'time of the month' is approaching, or when the 50s sundress I bought last year is too tight. Regardless of my knee-jerk need to wallow in self-pity, I know that hair can be fixed, my body will go back to normal after my cycle is done, and I can just do more cardio and that dress will fit again.

I know I am a strong, independent, and positive woman. I do not need the approval from other people nor do I base my entire self-worth on trivial things like 'looks.' Despite my self-assured personality, I allow myself to listen to the 'little voice' in my head that seems to shout out, "Hey, ugly!"

Like all things in life, my body image/self-image is a 'work in progress.' I will not gain boundless confidence overnight but I know that if I focus on what's important (i.e. health, family, friends, living life to the fullest) I am going to be okay.

Who Says "You Cannot Wear Vintage From Head to Toe?" My Thoughts

This is me from earlier today. I am wearing vintage clothing at work and my hair is in rolls. This is me everyday without fail. Whether I am at the office, hanging out at home, out for cocktails, or going to bed. I wear vintage. Period.

The other day, the lovely Laura of Betty2ToneVintage blog asked me about thrift and vintage shops here in the DC area. I did some research and found a few websites detailing shops' locations, shop reviews, and an article listing five shops along with a vintage clothing "do and don't" list. Here is a link to the article:

http://galtime.com/article/fun-stuff/40206/6562/five-great-vintage-stores-washington-dc

Here is a 'copy and paste' of said list:

Vintage Shopping Do’s and Don’ts
DO check the stitching of a top, dress, pant, etc. before purchasing if it looks cheap-y, do not purchase it (unless it is ridiculously cheap and you plan on wearing it twice).
DO expect that some pieces will need to be tailored. Find a tailor you trust ASAP. (Trust us, all clothes look better after they’ve been fitted to you).
DO take a risk on buying vintage pieces; you are not looking for what everyone is buying at J Crew.
DON’T, and this is a big don’t, wear vintage from head to toe. Best rule to live by when debating on adding vintage to your outfit, no more then two pieces (pants and top do not count).

Overall, this is a good list with good advice. However, I admit that the last "don't" is a bit bothersome. What is wrong with wearing vintage "from head to toe?" 

I agree that not all vintage clothing looks good. Some examples of 'bad' vintage are certain polyester fabrics, 70s butterfly collars,  80s shoulder pads, corduroy bell bottoms, late 60s styles, and cat suits. Vintage or contemporary, there will always be a difference between flattering and stylish and ill-fitting and down right ugly.

Nevertheless, I know that many of us vintage bloggers wear vintage "from head to toe" while many wear vintage mixed with modern pieces. There really is no wrong answer when it comes to personal style. If a look suits you, wear it. Who  cares if it's all vintage or not?

I have never been one to worship fashion and/or follow the trends. Sometimes when I am in my salon getting my hair done, I will flip through Vogue, Glamour, InStyle, Harper's, or Allure. These publications will often feature their "Must Have" list, a "Do Don't" article, or a "What's In and What's Out" piece. Do I really care of if the editors of InStyle say gladiator sandals out and jeweled flat sandals are in? No. Therefore, I am not concerned if a "DC fashionista" deems my pure vintage look as a 'fashion faux pas.'

The main reason for "do don't" lists is marketing. If editors and fashion houses decide what's in, what's out, or what's a 'no no,' they make money. The fashion house creates the must-have style, they pay the magazine for advertising, and the editors and the fashion house make money. Create a false demand for a trend, lay back, and let the fashion-obsessed masses run to their local mall or Neiman or Saks to buy the latest thing so they can be an "in."

As for the 'no all vintage rule,' I am not sure why some think wearing all vintage is a bad idea.  Who decided this? Now, like I said, I totally understand the classic rules regarding fit, tailoring, dressing for your figure, matching colors, complimentary colors, accessorizing, not mixing stripes and plaids, and making sure your clothes are in good condition. But when it comes to applying the whole "do and don't" mantra to style, that is where I refuse to yield.

Vintage clothing flatters my figure best. Modern skirts, jeans, and pants have waist-lines that are too low. Due to my small waist and round hips, lower waist anything makes me look dumpy and bottom-heavy. In addition, contemporary cardigans are cut longer to match lower waist lines. Whenever I pair a modern-made cardigan with a 50s shirtwaist dress, the bottom edge of the cardigan hits the top of my bum and as a result, it covers my waist like a tent! Moreover, the cardigan makes me look shapeless and lumpy from behind. So, I wear vintage-made cardigans that are shorter in length that slim my waist and complement my shape.

I could give several examples why I prefer vintage over contemporary fashion I do not want to bore you! l also do not want to distract myself from my argument! Nevertheless, I wear vintage simply because I like it and because it looks good on my body. If a gal wants to wear something she likes that looks good on her, then why not wear it?

So, ladies, what do you think? I would love, I mean really love to hear your thoughts on this one!

Betty's Vintage Musings is Now "The DC Metro Retro"

So, after much consideration, I have decided to change blog from "Betty's Vintage Musings" to "The DC Metro Retro." In addition, I am dropping the moniker "Lady Betty" for my name, "Tara."

"Lady Betty" was my pin-up name that I used for photography work, and since I have not done any projects since 2008, going by my real name seems more appropriate nowadays.

As for my new blog title, I think it's a great way to have fun with the fact that I seem to be one of the few vintage people in the DC area! Like I have mentioned many times before, there is no rockabilly/vintage community.  I am sure there a are a 'token few' rockabilly folks here and there but as a whole, DC lacks an established scene. There are no events, no shows, and there are definitely no neato-keen weekenders!  In a land of political action committees, lobbyists, government employees, senate staffers, and federal contractors; the J. Crew-clad locals shop at the mall, go out to eat, grab a drink, and commute in traffic. Oh, what I would do to be able to meet someone who lives and breathes the vintage life!

In conclusion, I hope you all will enjoy the changes here on my blog. Instead of lamenting the fact I "stick out like a sore thumb," I am going to start enjoying being a vintage gal surviving life inside the Beltway!

Dealing With Rudeness

Normally, I relegate the content on my blog to all things vintage. I prefer to keep my little corner of cyberspace as a place of positivity, fun, learning, sharing, and meeting other vintage enthusiasts. However, I feel the need to share with you all something that happened to me that was not so nice. I was a bit rattled and baffled by this incident but in the end, I know it means nothing. I just shook it off and moved on.

So here is my story:

A few weeks ago, I was at my local gym working out and I observed a father instructing his middle-school aged son to lift a weight bar that was obviously way too heavy. I noticed the boy struggling as he attempted to do shoulder shrugs and all I could envision was an injury. I could see the father had a certain arrogance about him. I had a suspicion that if I said something, my comments would more than likely be unwelcome.

Well, stupidly not heeding my own instinct to keep mum, after completing my bicep curls, I smiled and said, "If you guys lift less weight, you can do more reps." The father turned to me and scowled, "We GOT it? OKAY?!" I think if no one was around, he would have said more. I truly felt threatened. I then responded. "Oh, I am sorry." The man scowled even harder and I said, "I apologize, really." He rolled his eyes and mumbled something offensive. I walked away shaking inside. I went to another side of the gym and avoided further contact. I felt sorry for that man's child. What a terrible role model.

Why are some people so rude/mean? And, why am I taking it so hard? I always try to be kind, gentle, and caring. I have been this way ever since I was little. I was a friendly kid and when another bullied me or called me a mean name, I found myself feeling really hurt yet I got over it.

I think that is why I took an interest Buddhism when I was in college. I really do not want to make this post/blog about personal beliefs but I feel stating that will help shed light on my views. Despite my non-conflict nature, if my life is in danger, I will defend myself (albeit with a heavy heart).  If someone is rude to me (which is rare), I usually walk away or try to dissolve the matter. When the man at the gym "put me in my place," I simply walked away. It is not worth snapping back, especially in front of a child.

I know there are all kinds of people in this world. I try to focus on the good in people and ignore the rudeness and callousness that exists in a few.  I also need to remind myself what Ghandi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." If I wish others to be nice, than I am going to be nice. Period. However, I know that just being nice will not guarantee a nice interaction with everyone. I understand this, even if my initial response is that of disappointment.

In 2011, I am going to work on to letting negativity go and focus on the positive. There are just so many wonderful things for me to spend my energy on like improving my sewing skills, training for a marathon, spending more time with family, traveling, going skiing, and learning some new recipes!

So, when faced with rudeness, what do you do?

It's Good to Be Back! Happy 2011!

After being away from blogging for a few weeks, it feels good to be back in the "land of the living!" Now that the holidays are over, I am ready to write, share new products reviews with you, and start making comments again on your blogs again!

I hope everyone's holidays were enjoyable! Mine were so busy, I feel like I need a vacation! I hosted Christmas dinner and New Year's Eve. I went to my sister's Christmas Eve party, hung out with my parents, and celebrated with my in-laws. Moreover, on the day after Christmas, my parents, the man, myself, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my niece and nephew went to New York City on Amtrak. Every year around the holidays, we visit NYC for a few days for fun, dining, and shopping, and also to see the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall.

Let me tell you, New York City during a blizzard is a sight to be hold! I love snow and winter but walking from 50th and 6th down to 36th and 8th (after the Rockettes Show) in the bitter cold, driving snow, and gale-force winds is pure hell. Normally, we would have taken cabs back to our hotel but no cabs were running and the few that were out were just spinning in place.

The Amtrak and local airports were shut down for a few days but luckily we were all able to get back home to the DC area on Tuesday evening. I will go back to New York for sure but never during a winter storm. It is so not worth it!

So, now that it's 2011, I am eager to get back into the gym, train for a marathon, and continue to learn to sew! I will be 36 in April and I want to be healthier, fitter, and more knowledgeable when it comes to all things vintage!

Here's to a new year, gals!

Besame Cosmetics Lipstick Update! -Classic Color Lipstick

(Photo courtesy of Besame Cosmetics)

Earlier today, I visited Besame Cosmetics website looking to buy a couple of remaining tubes of the Enchanting Lipstick in 'Red Hot Red.' As some of you may know, Besame Cosmetics discontinued the Enchanting Line. These lipsticks ($15.00 USD) boasted authentic vintage color cased in tiny, yet elegant gold tube adorned with a red floral motif. The packaging alone was pure retro glamour! So, it was to my surprise (and letdown) that the Enchanting Lipsticks are no longer listed on the site. Besame had a few colors still available online a couple of weeks ago but alas, they are now gone.  Nonetheless, Besame has just introduced a new line of lipstick called  "Classic Color Lipstick." It retails for $22.00 USD. You can view them here:

http://www.besamecosmetics.com/products.cfm/Classic-Color-Lipstick/pID-15

Despite the fact the Enchanting Lipstick was top-notch in texture, color, and longevity, the bullet itself was T-I-N-Y! I will never forget the first time I received my 'Red Hot Red,' 'Exotic Pink,' and 'Besame Red' tubes. I was taken aback at how little they were! I thought, "Was I sent trial sizes by mistake?" Nope.

The Enchanting Lipstick was indeed small but the what it lacked in size, it certainly made up for color intensity and quality!  This lipstick felt like pure silk on my lips and it lasted all day with very few touch-ups. I still have a smidgen of 'Red Hot Red' in the tube. I use a lipbrush to carve out what's left and when the tube is empty, I will display it on my vanity.

A while back, Besame introduced the Voluptuous Lipstick Set (35.00 USD). This set includes a full-size lipstick, matching lip liner, and a chic lip brush. I read reviews stating that even though the colors were the same as the Enchanting line, the formula as thinner and not as pigmented.

Although, the Voluptous set looks promising, I still long for the original Enchanting formula. In my opinion, no other lipstick I have tried comes even close its color palette and creamy, matte texture!

After considering several online reviews and my own experience, I decided to contact Besame directly and my call was immediately answered by a lovely, kind, and informative gentleman by the name of Fergus. He graciously answered all my questions and even offered me a chance to speak with Besame founder, Gabriela Hernandez! I wanted to talk to her so badly but I was at work and had a meeting in 5 minutes. Rats! However, Fergus told me that if I wanted to e-mail a request to talk to Gabriela, I could. Awesome!

Nevertheless, Fergus gave me a wealth of information regarding the new Classic Color lipstick! The lipsticks will debut in the first or second week of December 2010. (They are only available for pre-order right now) The Classic Color lipstick bullet will be 3.5 grams and therefore larger than the original. Fergus stated, "They will be only slightly smaller than standard lipsticks." The Classic lipstick colors will be the same as the Enchanting colors. However, I do not see Exotic Pink listed on their website. I had Exotic Pink and I loved it when I had black hair!

Not only will these new lipsticks be bigger, they will also be paraben-free. I learned that due to the demand from US customers, the lipsticks were made larger. Fergus stated that many people thought the tubes were like "minis or sample sizes." As I mentioned previously, I ,too, thought the same thing. But the lipstick was vintage-fabulous and color was perfection.

I cannot wait for the Classic Colors to come out! I will buy my two tubes of 'Red Hot Red' as soon as they are available! I look forward to the bigger size and putting that luscious color on my lips once again!

Expensive Does Not Necessarily Mean Better!-My Never-Ending Quest For The Perfect Red Lipstick

So, a while back, I posted a question asking "how much is too much when it comes to buying makeup?" Well, the other day while out at Neiman Marcus, I learned that not only is spending too much silly, it also does not guarantee good quality!

Take for example, the now-famous Tom Ford Private Blend Lipsticks. These lipsticks cost 45.oo USD and boast rich color payoff and a luxurious texture housed in a posh white and gold case. Even though I have found perfection in Make Up For Ever's Rouge Artist Intense Lipsticks (19.00 USD) and MAC's Pro Longwear Lipcreme (14.50 USD), I felt compelled to try the Tom Ford shade in Cherry Lush. Cherry Lush is a bright, true vintage red with a strong pink undertone.


The sales associate working at the counter raved about the lipstick and how the intensely pigment was paired perfectly with emollient comfort that lasted for hours.  After she sanitized the tester, I excited swiped a healthy slash of color on my lips. For 45 dollars, I was expecting the 'holy grail' of lipstick. You know, the lipstick what would put all others of out commission? Well, the color was indeed glorious. The red hue reminded me of maraschino cherries, dripping wet with wanton sexy abandon. But something was off. It was the texture!  It was like butter and not in a good, Mike Myers as Linda Richman/Coffee Talk way.  I felt like it was literally putting Land-O-Lakes Whipped butter on my mouth! I am all for intense creamy color but this was ridiculous!

I politely told the sales associate that I would walk around and test it out. She said "sure!" and I snuck out of the store. As I got back in my car, I looked in my mirror and noticed that the lipstick after 10 minutes of wear, was starting to bleed. Not good. I promptly wiped the lipstick off and put my MAC Lipcreme in Prolong back on. Whew.

So, maybe in some cases expensive is better. I have found this to be true for shoes, foundation, and eyeshadow. As for cheaper being better, MAC and Make Up For Ever fit the bill wonderfully (for the most part).

In the end, I think finding the perfect shade and/or formula depends on testing or trying before buying. I tried to like the cheap Revlon reds but they do not work for me. They either slide off (Super Lustrous) or dry my lips horribly (Revlon matte). I have also tried the expensive Hourglass Femme Rouge (too wet) and Guerlain (bad taste, yucky texture and poor shade range). Based on my experience with the Tom Ford lipstick, unless the lipstick can REALLY wow me in color intensity, longevity, formula, and comfort, I do not see myself being able to justify buying it.

What do you think, girls?

Colorado on the Brain

It has been a long week. I have been super busy with projects at work, my best friend's husband (who was travelling for his new job) stayed two nights at my house (without giving me hardly any warning), I hosted my brother-in-law last night for dinner, I have to go to Richmond this weekend to get groceries for my parents' house (they have been in Europe for two months), and then on Monday, I have to take a day off work and pick up my parents at the airport. I know I am whining, but I am tired. I have not had a real break since late January.

It is crazy times like these that make me long for snow-capped, steel gray peaks dotted with lush green pines. I would do anything to smell the fresh, brisk air that tingles my skin. I want to close my eyes and sense the stillness and calm of the Colorado High Country. Just for a moment, I visualize myself skiing down Lower American on Peak 9. The skies are crisp and blue. The wind kicks up puffs of champagne snow and the mountaintops appear to be steaming against the backdrop of the electric blue sky. My skis leave gentle tracks in the opalescent snow that glitters in the bright afternoon sunlight and all is well with the world.

What is it about the High Country that intoxicates my soul? It is the beauty of the landscape? It is the laid-back nature of the local populous? Or, it is the placid energy that permeates everything from the trees, the snowfall to the mood of the residents. I am not sure. 

What I do know is that when I am in Colorado, I am a different girl. I am happier, calmer, and more peaceful. I tend to forget about long, traffic-clogged commutes. I ignore my tendency to worry. I let go of my usual anxieties and I just smile. I simply love being there. It feeds my spirit and fills my heart with joy. In Colorado, I am truly complete. It is my nirvana.

Here in the DC Metro Region, I tend to get cranky, stressed out, and tired. Just the other day, my good mood was ripped away when a rude SUV driver took it upon herself to drive like a maniac in a grocery store parking lot and then have the audacity to honk and flip me off! I was slowly pulling out of a parking space and then and all of sudden, this woman turned wildly into the lot and slammed on the brakes.  Let me tell you, she SLAMMED on the brakes. For a split second, I was sure she was going to hit me. Nevertheless, the SUV brat honked and flipped me off. I was floored. I wanted to call her a b*tch but I simply shook my head and said, "Wow." SUV brat angrily scowled and drove off like a madwoman. I admit there was a part of me that wanted to find her car and key it but I took a deep breath and let it go. I mean, it is just food shopping! It is not like the panzers are coming! Moreover, if I ever vandalized someone's car, aren't I no better than them? I have never road-raged and I do not plan to start! It is not worth it! Besides, whenever someone honks at me or acts rude, I actually feel rattled. My heart pounds and I get nervous. I hate conflict. Period.

Living in the DC Metro, there always seems to be bad drivers, rudeness, stressful situations, overcrowded stores, and traffic. I know DC is not special. There are many cities that have all of these characteristics. I think my perspective stems from me living here too long. I am over this place. If someone told me that I could move to Colorado tonight, I would rush home and pack up everything, get the cat, get the man, and head west!

One day, more than likely in the next couple of years, the husband and I will move to Colorado. It is not a matter of "if" but "when." Both of us want out of the DC area badly. We just need to get our business in order, get the house ready for the market, and have a viable moving plan. He and I actually looked at several High Country homes a couple of years ago and we were greatly inspired to make our moving dreams reality.

Until I live in Colorado, I have to focus on the positive and "keep my eye on the prize." I need to start saving money and cut back on my vintage purchases. I also need to take a deep breath and remind myself that all of this is temporary. The husband and I will be there soon enough.

(Above is an acrylic painting I did depicting North Main Street in Breckenridge, Colorado. I know it's not that great, but it hangs in my office and it reminds me that everything will be fine.)