Brains, timeless beauty & the pursuit of something real...

Conversations overheard in a powder room can be golden.  Catch a girl in a mirrored room with a tube of lipstick and her best friend and you'll inevitably get an outpouring of truth.  Such was the case on this particular Saturday night.  A Saturday night of extremely overpriced posh Mediterranean dining on Melrose Avenue in West Hollywood.  

Standing in the huge over sized brass mirror, I worked to powder blot the T zone oils of an extremely hot summer night skin in August. Mirrored compact in hand and bright orange floral sundress,  I was feeling pretty confident and on trend in my new pink heels. Now if I could only get this shiny face to cooperate.
Just as I pondered my very ridiculous girl problems, BAM!  The door flew open with the frenetic energy of two women on a mission and a gab fest.

Pouncing their designer handbags onto the black marbled counter top, they continued their conversation as if they were the only two in the room.  One quick reflection in the mirror and our eyes met.  Yep, I was caught.  Caught staring. Quickly looking away and back into my purse, I knew I recognized her.  Ooooo she was one of my favorites! One more tiny look and I'd be sure.  As I glanced again, I zeroed in on the telltale dimples and the voice.  It was undeniable.  I was now sharing counter space with a star.

Elegantly dressed in white, she wore flowing pants and a jacket perfectly tailored to her petite frame. Yves Saint Laurent or St. John, I thought, either way it was exquisite.  Just as famous for her infamous handsome husband as her successful career, I wondered if he was somewhere to be found in the restaurant as well.  Just then, she began speaking in that husky voice.  To me.

"Excuse me, do you have a mint?"
"A mint?" uh, I'm sorry. I don't, but I have some gum?

"Gum is great."  she said as she flipped her blonde hair back while giving her eye a pull upward with her fingertips in the mirror.  "Ahh this harsh lighting is hideous!"  

Unwrapping the gum, her friend continued with the banter...

"Remember what I said?!  It's not the lighting it's the warped world we live in. Don't obsess."  

Now actually including me into their conversation the blonde starlet shook her head at me with the sort of look I had only previously seen her portray on the big screen.
 "My friend and I have a ritual.  We often text one another beautiful photos of Jacqueline Onassis in her 60's or Diane Keaton or even our moms!  If we ever get the itch to do something drastic to our faces?  A text from one another can really save the day.  We're each other's rock.  It's important to be reminded what real women with intelligence and immense capabilities look like as they age.   L.A. is a strange land."  

Yes.  Yes it is.

Poof!  One door swing and they were gone.  It was as if my regularly scheduled life had been interrupted for an important message from the A List Glam Lady Society for 30 seconds of wisdom.  

In a world filled with Kardashians, today I will choose to celebrate timeless beauty, brains and accomplishment.
After all, that's what real starlets do.   ;)

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo
Birdee Bow

No Apologies...

There is a  quiet hush across Manhattan during the days surrounding the 4th of July.  The type of quiet hush that is all at once eerie and serene.  A mass exodus of city dwellers racing to beat concrete jungle heat by escaping to charming Connecticut countrysides and other lush green destinations in search of cooler temps and slower paces.

Dressed up for my own early morning 4th of July style adventure, I hop in for a short taxi ride uptown, East 85th to Madison. As Madison beckons to me, it is as though I am the only moving vehicle on 85th this early morning.  The 15 minute usual journey becomes a 5 minute skip across avenues of non existent traffic.  Ahhh locals have spoken of this phenomenon.  Today should be lovely...

Making my way down an entirely closed for business and uncluttered Madison Avenue, I marvel at the emptiness of a usually hustling and bustling city sidewalk.  Now without any crowds to work my way around and the absence of friends, shopping companions or any ONE rushing me down the street, I am free to stop and peer.  I have a ticket to stop and stare inside the doors of Christian Louboutin as long as my heart desires. As unabashedly long as I like, without apology.  Time is all mine. I breath slower.  I feel lighthearted and content.

Taking in bold artistic visions and vibrant, intricate details, I am surrounded by lux therapy for hungry eyes.  I am high heels and ear to ear smiles. Elegantly executed window displays refined in utmost style. I envision teams of talented souls creating daring wearable art.  I imagine sketches drawn and re drawn until the perfect shade of posh becomes a reality.   Consumerism built this street, but on this day Madison operates only as my modern museum. I am mused by Chloe, Pucci, Lauren,  Nanette Lepore...even Laduree and the Dean & DeLuca grocery store!  I am intrigued by the passionate design surrounding me.

As a fiery sun rises higher into the sky on this morning of a hot July,  I am Holly Golightly starring in my own early morning Truman Capote scene.

Backyard BBQs are overrated.

May you always create your own kind of solitude.
May you never apologize for it.
May your February be filled with fireworks.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo
Birdee Bow

Lady Judy & The Glamour Spoiler

"Beauty is not caused.  It is."  EMILY DICKINSON

Pulling into the circle drive, my mom, older sister and I  struggled to read the small typed note on the front doors of the town civic center
 INTERVIEW HERE.

 "Ok, this is the place, better hop out before I park because it's already 5 minutes til!"
Jumping out of the rolling car, I hustled my way up to the front door with my garment bag and purse in tow.  Immediately upon walking in I was met with a lady in her late 50's dressed like the quintessential Texas Pageant Organizer in a pink tweed jacket graced with gold buttons and a CHANEL-ish style skirt.

"Ahhh you must be contestant #17."Looking down scanning my paperwork I finally saw the number.
 "Yes! Yes I am #17."

"I'm Lady Judy.  Please find your place at the end of the line. Hurry along sweetie and look alive!"

The southern drawl of her cadence was much more South Texas than North Texas (and yes there is a very definitive difference).  It seemed as if no one associated with the pageant at hand was actually from the area. No one seemed warm and fuzzy in that familiar kind of way.  I thought it odd that most of the contestants were from cities much larger than my small country town and that I was only one of two contestants who were actually from the tri-county area.  Wasn't this supposed to be Wheatheart?  As in heart of the wheat land?

Winding my way around the corner of a huge corridor, there it was: The line.  Pretty girls all lined up in a row ready for the interview portion of this grand affair. It was my first real life look at my competition. Oh I had seen the photos in the preliminary brochure mailed to each of us a week ago, but seeing everyone in true form was a different thing entirely.  Suddenly I felt so small, so unbelievably skinny and sooo flat chested.

The first girl I met was a girl named Lowery. I remember the name so clearly because I thought it so different and interesting.  She was friendly and bouncy, but much too animated for my taste.   An overwhelming bubbly energy masked her nerves.  I thought of her immediately as a non contender, but a surefire bet for Miss Congeniality.  It was almost as if she knew she was destined for Miss Congeniality and therefore played the part with utmost gusto. She offered me a goodie bag filled with assorted fruit gums, hair bows and a box of tic tacs.  Yep, gunnin for congenial.
Welcome to the bizarre world of pageantry.
Alongside her was likely the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in all of my 17 years.  She looked like a cross between a young Christie Brinkley and Faith Hill.  The sort of blonde beauty Texas is famous for generating.  Summer had curves for miles and the kind of airbrushed skin and flowing hair I had only seen between the pages of  TEEN ELLE.  Oh how I hoped I didn't have to stand beside Summer in that line.  Perusing the line further I couldn't help but notice Margret.  Margret was perfectly poised. Shorter with sky high stilettos, she reminded me of an early 1960's Elizabeth Taylor.  Big stiff helmet hair, a pointy style bra and thick winged eyeliner. The type of eyeliner I had only witnessed on my mom's friends in their 30's and Doris Day movies.   How out of place she must feel, I thought, in this sea of natural modern beauties.

Ok, so you should know that this wasn't just any pageant. This pageant was the Miss Wheatheart event.  An event which could single-handedly catapult a girl right into the Miss Texas pageant.  The thing of glitter wishes and caviar dreams.  A pageant that not only promised full college scholarship cash and beautiful clothing, but also travel and boat loads of glamour.  Did I mention glamour?

Deep down I knew I wasn't going in to this competition as a true contender.  Yes, I had won local talent contests and runner up awards in small pageants, but this was the big league.  Once I qualified for the competition, I spent hours convincing my parents to actually let me participate.  I can still hear my dad's words...

 "What about all the girls out there who can't afford thousands of dollars for a dress and sportswear attire?  Are they just not pretty? You don't need anyone to tell you that you're pretty."
 ahhhhh My Dad!  Always the socially aware cheerleader for the underdog. The voice of reason and fairness.   I appreciated what he had to say, and yes, deep down I knew he was right, but I was 17 in Texas with big shiny stars in my blue eyes.  I had watched the Miss Texas pageant on TV every year since I could remember.  I just had to take this opportunity.  This could be my moment!  This could be the moment that changes a girl's life forever!  He reluctantly allowed it.  Looking back now?  I wish I had listened to him and kept that hard earned dough in my savings account or at the very least blew it on a fun vacation.

"Ok, you're next. Are you prepared to shine?"  Lady Judy in the pink jacket crashed right into my personal space. Brushing my hair back with a tiny hairbrush, she made her way up and down the line primping each contestant.  I wanted her and her big helmet hair to get out of my way.
   I GOT THIS.

Stepping around her, I marched straight into the conference room with confidence 100% fueled by naive stupidity.  A large horseshoe shaped boardroom table awaited me with five judges looking me over from head to toe.  The pretty woman in the middle seemed most friendly with a crooked smile. Gotta be a former Miss Texas I thought as I made my way to the interrogation chair smack dab in the middle of the room.

"Please introduce yourself"  Ohhhhh what a loaded question.  Here we go!
What happened next I cannot write verbatim with any accuracy because it blurs.  The type of blurring experienced under intense scrutiny, pressure and forehead sweating.  I do remember a lot of social and political style questions firing off at lightening speed.  Questions which I thought I nailed with quick witted answers.  Answers about female inequality in the work place and policies of the time which I thought were wrong and abhorrent within our nation's political system.  I spoke clearly and with feeling about poverty, racial and socio-economic injustice and how firmly I believe in many govt  programs helping those in need.  I'm pretty sure I used the word liberal a few times and my support of the ACLU.  Yep, pretty much exactly what every conservative Texas pageant panel judge does NOT want to hear.
 I was 17, oblivious and filled with my own truth.

Fast forward hours later.  Standing backstage in my snappy purple, extremely modest, one piece bathing suit. Lady Judy suddenly appears (back in my personal space I might add).

"WHAT on Earth did you say in your interview?"  spoken in a worried frustrated tone usually reserved for severe medical emergencies.

 I couldn't move, I was frozen.  Suddenly I was jolted back to reality by the tap tap tappin' of her super long manicured fingertips on a clipboard of talent statistics and beauty scores.

"I'm sorry.  What?  What do you mean?"
"I MEAN you were one of our top contestants.  You had top scores in sportswear, photogenic, congeniality, talent and poise!  After your interview you have plummeted to the bottom. Whatever you said? You blew it." 

 I felt my eyes begin to well up with tears.  I could barely reply.  The amount of displeasure in her voice was just too much for my young naive ears to handle.

"I'm sorry".  I whispered it to her, but it was really to myself.  She was right, I had blown it.  Of course then I didn't understand why.    It's a lesson we all learn in life isn't it?
Tell 'em what they want to hear.
I hate that lesson.
That's a horrible lesson.

Backstage I watched in a numb state.  Now just going through the motions as I knew I had no hope of winning, I watched in awe as Margret (Elizabeth Taylor) and her mom carted a portable air brush tanning machine into the dressing room.  Like clockwork her mom sprayed the sticky tanning goo onto her naked body.  Completely uninhibited and rehearsed. I listened in as her mom told my mom about their pageant adventures and how they had been traveling to every  Miss Texas preliminary across the state.

 "We've logged a thousand miles!  This is our life!"  yelling now as she kicked on the compressor pump of the spray tanner.

Bottles of non jiggle glue-ish  spray fumes filled the air as girls molded their thighs (if only mine had any meat on  them I thought I might join in too).  Rows and rows of electrical tape strategically placed around boobs to give them the perfect perky look inside tightly belted dresses and bathing suits.

Watching such odd reflections behind me in the stage mirror, I got a dark lonely feeling.   It all terrified me. Who was I kidding?  Even if I had aced the interview questions, I still would have bombed. I didn't belong here.  I  had never seen anything like this before.  I had no idea this was the "glamorous" scene from backstage.
I was not only out of my league, but I was intensely uncomfortable.
As uncomfortable as I felt, my poor mom and sister felt even more out of place as they struggled to support me in an environment which seemed not only alien but also absurd.  Amazement on our faces, we giggled to one another a lot that night.
Admittedly, I giggled to keep from crying.

Walking out on the stage in my last walk of the night, I decided to rock that beautiful evening gown like a winner even though I knew I was not.   As I looked down at the judges I gave each one of them a smile (as they endlessly coach you to do),  I think it was at about this moment when resentment kicked in.  Looking at each of their faces, I wondered how I would judge each of them.

Terrible fitting suit on judge one...
comb over Trump hair on judge 2.
 Judge 3?  Wayyy too much botox.
 Judge 4    needed a makeup lesson
 and Judge 5?  Reminded me of a car salesman I had once encountered while shopping for a Buick with my Grandpa.  

Why is my dad always right?

Margret (Elizabeth Taylor) won. Even though I had chosen modern beauty Summer to take the crown,  the judges had chosen 60's pointy bra style Margret.  I couldn't even imagine one guy in our age range even thinking of her as attractive.   It was entirely over the top.  It was entirely fabricated and it was clearly the winning ticket. After all, this was their day job.  This was their entire existence. Studied and perfected.  

Later that evening as we packed the car for the long drive home, I watched as Margret and her mother smoked cigarettes together in the back parking lot. Packing  their tanning machine and tall makeup kits into the trunk of a beaten up station wagon, I saw her throw the huge plastic winning trophy, rhinestone tiara and banner on top of a heap of dirty clothes in the back seat. Flicking her cigarette out of the window as they drove away, Margret (now in smeared black eyeliner and hot mess hair) smiled and waved at me.
Waving back, I couldn't help but like her, but I knew I didn't want to be her.
I also knew I would be seeing her on the TV soon, watching her in the Miss Texas pageant and very likely even in the Miss America pageant one day.

Talk about a Glamour Spoiler
May you say whatever you feel today no matter who judges you.
May you forget the lessons we've learned.
May your Tiara be sparkly

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xoxo
Birdee Bow