Temporary Insanity

Why shouldn’t I get a tattoo? Because I own too many pencil skirts to rule out the possibility of a high-powered position in a major corporation.

Kidding. I just wouldn’t be able to make up my mind about a permanent design. That’s why temporary tattoos are perfect for me (and children.) Plus, you can enjoy admittedly dumb tattoos for a day, such as this little owl with a heart where its belly should be.

If there’s such a concept as vintage temporary tattoos, this belongs to it. I managed to hold on to a collection that I had as a kid (How Tavi of me!)

There’s hope for non-hoarders, though. Temporary tattoos specifically for adult women have been made by Chanel and Temptu. Rationalization: Check.

114 tattoos for $5!

Or mayhaps you just want to adorn your nails? I really like Sally Hansen nail polish strips, even if the prep and application steps take me at least 30 minutes.

Sally Hanson Salon Effects strips in Laced Up, $7.20

I’m happy they’re coming out with new designs seasonally now (the point of solid colors was lost on me) and that other brands are popping up. I might have to try these next:

Butter London Nail Skins in Black  Blue Wallpaper, $10

If you’re not decorating your nails with tiny crows, what are you doing with your life?

Goodwill Hunting

The belated  recap of a 20-pound shopping trip

The place:

The irony of the Blue Hanger (aka the Goodwill outlet) is that there aren’t any hangers. There are no shopping bags or dressing rooms, either. It’s where used clothes go to die. It’s bargain hunters’ heaven, but also kinda like hell.
I love the smell of mothballs in the morning, but this place grossed me out a little. The first thing I noticed about my fellow shoppers was that several were donning latex gloves. This seemed comically snobby to me, but the phrase Maybe they know something I don’t ran through my head as I plunged my hands into the abysmal blue tubs.
A strong 30 percent of the garments were badly stained. All manner of undergarments were present. Strangers’ grungy pillowcases had to be pushed aside. And yet, everything smelled like an unfamiliar but clean home. I suspect that the stuff gets sprayed down with Febreeze the way grocery stores mist the produce with water. I concluded that unprotected thrifting is okay. Besides, I can’t shop anywhere without basically groping all the merchandise as part of my evaluation process.

Gloves are a good option for people who are all uptight about the possibility of finding a disembodied head.
Another thing to be ready for: many people will value the hunt more than your bubble of personal space. They will crowd in and reach over you like it’s a designer shoe sample sale. Thankfully, I didn’t have much competition for the styles I wanted there, unlike the  picked-over stores in hipster territory (Savers, anyone?)

The goods:
The outlet only sells clothing, house wares, and books. I have no idea why shoes and records are out of the picture. The three categories are separated for the most part, but all apparel is hopelessly mixed. At a regular Goodwill one must search through racks sorted by color instead of size ( a system I will never understand) , but here, one has to plough through about eight long rows of  bins to see all options. Although the heaps of baby clothes and unsanitary bedding get in the way, this disorganization made me open up to the possibility of  cute boys’ tees and men’s sweaters.

Personalized marriage clocks also available

Bargain books – because reading best-sellers from as recent as 15 years ago is uncool and promotes the atrophy of rainforests probably.

The pricing:

When you check out, your items are dumped into a basket on a scale built into the floor. You’re charged $1.29 per pound. It’s like a frozen yogurt shop, but with cotton. There is an exception to the rate if you buy particularly heavy things. I was charged a flat rate for my two pieces of luggage and hardback book.  I also used a (no longer available) Austin Perks $30 voucher that cost me $15.

The finds:

  • Floral minidress
  • ACDC tee so cool and worn-in that I forgot I hate ACDC
  • High waisted, holy grail Levi’s jeans
  • Short, silky slip covered in a strawberry print
  • Racerback tank with faded palm trees
  • Navy henley
  • Lee light grey dolman sleeve sweatshirt
  • Bright mosaic knee-length skirt
  • Brown leather tote bag
  • Cornflower blue round 60s hatbox/suitcase
  • Bank of Illinois deposit bag (aka new pencil bag)
  • Tie-dye tank top
  • Purple gym shorts
  • Black and white striped boat neck
  • 80s blazer
  • Punk-ass studded belt
  • Uncannily pristine white camisole
  • Lace doily
  • Basic blue jeans prime for customization
  • Hawaiian print/safari shirt…
  • Liz Clairborn maroon silk skirt
  • Taupe belt with gold closure shaped like a wishbone
  • Floral pearl snap western shirt
  • Black cropped leggings for yoga
  • Black leather backpack/rolling suitcase
  • Hunter green riding pants
  • Red crochet-back tunic (makes a very cute nightgown)
  • Thick-knit camel cardigan
  • Basic grey camisole
  • High waist denim shorts
  • Gap 1969 black skinny jeans
  • “Beauty” by Bobbi Brown (hardcover book)

Grand total: about $20. So go check it out when you find yourself with more time than money. The sky is the limit. The size of your closet is also the limit.

On Pins and Needles

Is acupuncture just a series of really pointy placebos?

***

Photo by Deborah Leigh

 

Well, I did it. I got my first acupuncture treatment almost entirely for kicks.

An alternative medicine specialist once gave a lecture on the topic during a class I took on the drug industry. She admitted that the main demographic for therapeutic pin-pricking was “bougie chicks.” I decided to give it a try, since I like to self-identify as bourgeoisie whenever I’m not busy purchasing Ramen noodles or stealing hotel soap.

What better way to medicate beyond my means than with a Groupon? For $30, I bought myself and hour and a half long appointment.

The office’s secretary asked me to fill out a 10-page packet beforehand that consisted of humorously personal questions and about 34,523 little boxes I could check off if their corresponding ailments applied to me. Turns out acupuncture can be the answer to just about anything. And who doesn’t “feel tired” or “sneeze occasionally” (only a minor exaggeration…)?

I suffer subtly from what I’m  going to call the Trifecta of Ugh: stress, allergies, and fatigue. The doctor, who unfortunately wasn’t an ancient Chinese man, addressed this.

He incompletely explained that allergies result from problems with “the gut” (I thought it was mold and pollen this whole time…), but since putting tablets of Zyrtec in my gut seems to control them effectively if not naturally, I moved on to the other Ughs.

As far as stress goes, my hopes were limited. If someone wants to hand me a diploma and a few thousand dollars, I’ll be golden. The doctor was formerly a UT student, too, but referred to my “college life” in a way that I registered as patronizing. He warned that life will only get much harder when I get a real job instead of working at my current job AND full-time load of disparate studies.

He had a real suggestion for my fatigue, though: quit the sugar and carbohydrates. This is good advice, except he really did mean quit them just short of my body going into ketosis. I love cereal too much to die of avoiding it. I’ll stick to my reduced sugar and whole grains goal, thanks. He kind of scoffed when I told him I studied nutritional science and that maaaybe my iron deficiency was to blame, too.

He said he doesn’t trust dieticians.

Awkward consultation complete. It was time to lay on the massage table and trade prodding questions for… prodding.

He tried to distract me with  a story about how much he loves the band U2 while inserting the thin needles in a quick, precise tapping motion. I had several pins in my cushioning: 2 in my biceps, forearms, the webbing of my hands, a couple in my shins and feet, one in the top of my head, and one right between my eyes. It was a good look.

Then I laid there for an hour, staring at the ceiling, listening to New Age flute music from a boombox and trying not to move. My limbs felt achy and I was so bored that it felt more like punishment than therapy.

Next time I’ll try recreational chiropractics for more excitement.

I left feeling just as one does upon quickly rejoining the world after a nap: hazy, slightly self-conscious, and probably unfit to turn left  onto a busy multi-lane street. For the rest of the afternoon I tried to perceive an improvement in my mind or body. But I didn’t feel any different. In fact, I had an awful headache. A week has passed, and I’ve noted no long-term benefits, either.

A couple friends have reminded me that believing wholeheartedly in the procedure probably helps it yield better results. Yet I was quite open to seeing it work some magic.

The list of people who shouldn’t get poked grows:

1. The squeamish

2. The broke

3. The skeptics

4. The reasonably healthy who just want to try things for the hell of it and then blog about it later.

This Hat is Covered in Fur and Questions

Albertus Swanepoel for Target “Layla” hat, $19.99

Something happened when I was at Target buying shampoo and bakeware. I saw this ridiculous hat, tried it on, and posed awkwardly in the mirror with my coconut Suave and cookie sheet. It was designed by Albertus Swanepoel, who is apparently as good at hats as he is at having a cool name. It looked better than expected. It’s also called the “Layla” hat, which is one letter away from my name (Kayla), just like I was one cognitive process away from self-control. Sign from a higher power, most likely.

I bought it and vowed to return it if I come to my senses.

I don’t think I will.

These photos from Refinery 29 (albeit from two years ago…is it time for a comeback already?) make me think it’s a fashion risk worth taking.

…but the tags, the recipt, and the fact that it’s a big ‘ol furry hat remain.

Are Wigs Just for Halloween?

Question to myself: “Are [blank] just for Halloween?”

(That blank has been filled with any number of fashion risks, including fake eyelashes, Victorian Gothic dresses, sequined flapper headbands, 1920s felt hats, shoulder-padded blazers, etc.)

Answer to self: “Nahhh.”

I recently bought my first wig for a themed party and now understand the strange seduction of fake hair.

Of course, it wasn’t love at first sight. My first stop was a pop-up Halloween warehouse. You know, one of those purveyors of all things gross, “sexy,” and plastic splayed out in an attempt to fill one of your community’s department stores abandoned by the half-dead economy and faring none the better for it. Before this gets too Detroitian, I’ll just say the wigs looked more than scary on me. Most had been ripped out of and shoved back into their packaging enough times to create a ratty mess of a headdress.

A friend with some wig know-how recommended one of the better curated costume shops in town (The Bazaar Backstage), but before I could get there, I passed by Big Joy Wigs and Beauty. I was sure that a legitimate, everyday wig shop would have something that was striking and convincing in equal measures.

It was an awkward experience.

The place had House of Leaves-esque architecture, seemingly 10 times larger than it looked from the outside. Hundreds of wigs on vacant-faced mannequin heads lined the walls. Two bored employees ignored me until I started trying to shove my very long hair into a brunette bob. Apparently you need to purchase a wig cap for hygienic reasons if you’re going to try anything on. Embarrassed and compliantly sporting a little nylon sock on my head, I continued studying the hair extensions and signs with references to sewing things on. Enter confused white girl mode.

Luckily, a salesgirl guided me to a well made blonde wig that was only $20. She referred to it as “she,” which was kinda creepy, but nonetheless I appreciated her. And “her:”

Standin’ there in my [blonde] wig, like, ‘Who thinks they know who?

It’s fun to pretend you’re someone different once in a while. I’m looking forward to partying in this thing tomorrow night.

But does anyone have an idea for a Halloween costume I can build around this?

Or how to properly disguise a pair of red eyebrows?

 

 

Not Supporting the Gov’t and Other Hippie Things

There are two “good” ways to protest taxes in America.

1)      Become that crazy old dude who refuses to pay his unconstitutional income taxes and drunkenly brandishes his rifle at anyone who inhabits his lawn.

2)      Shop too much on tax-free weekend.

 Guess which one I did (Hint: It didn’t require a ratty bathrobe or delusions.)

 Here are my spoils, none of which helped pay for roads or schools and all of which benefit me exclusively. I can’t say the measly 8.25% savings were worth the crammed parking lots and long checkout lines, but I can say this with some confidence: I’m having a late summer hippie phase.

I hit some sales, wielded some coupons, and got the kind of deals I can only express in camera-phone still lifes in the backyard.

Good thing I didn’t spend all that money on true hippie things like marijuana and humus.

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Gap 1969 mid-rise flared jeans, $14.95 (originally $59.95). I’ve already expressed my love for Gap’s denim, but I guess our relationship has been taken to the next level, because this skinny jeans devotee purchased damn-near bell bottoms. I was swayed by the combination the sale price, the intensely indigo wash, and my ankles’ yearning for freedom.

Atop the groovy jeans is a modern-day feather headdress from World Market (several aisles down from the imported Choco-shroom cookies), because I’m not about to get those things tied directly into my hair. Unfettered and unfeathered at a moment’s notice for $5.59. 

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World Market oversized turquoise ring, $6.99

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Demeter wildflower cologne set in Honeysuckle, Patchouli, and Freesia, $14.99. I had to get this set because I found it for cheaper than the going rate for one bottle of these wonderfully simple, single note perfumes. I already have Demeter’s less straightforward “Laundromat” scent, which is the classy version of Febreezing your clothes.

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World Market  beaded ribbon necklace, $10.49

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1st Kiss brown faux leather shorts, $14.99, and Gallery Leather Red Acadia planner with gold leaf pages, $16.96. Okay, so, religiously keeping a planner isn’t that free-spirited (especially when you buy a fresh copy of the one you already have 4 months in advance), but this planner, like my neurosis, is so charming and functional.

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Old Navy jersey and linen tee, $14.50

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Exploring the Blues, Ignoring the News

These are shots from recent experimentation outside the Communication building. Really just a bunch of writers trying to figure out how cameras work. I quickly gave in to the fact that my favorite visual subject is clothing, not nature (or even the grungy construction site nearby.)

Doc Martens, Material Girl shorts and crop top I bought 3 sizes too big for maximum swing

If I had a dollar for every day I wore black shorts…

but as Charles Bukowski once said, “Something about the legs makes you dream.”  And who paid more attention to Women?

 

Boots are grate. Get it?

I chased this individual down for wearing the hair feather trend so well.

 

Hands-on Experience

These are, for all intents and purposes, manicures juxtaposed with home decor:

I grasped this brass owl so hard my nail polish cracked.

OPI White Shatter top coat over NYC nail enamel in Purple Pizzaz

Sailboat curtains are boyish. Nail art is not.

Anonymous, adhesive silver strips…

Santa Fe vibes. I don’t know whether vintage sheets are gross/weird or not, but that’s not going to stop me.

Essie nail polish in Topless and Barefoot (Is that name free-spirited or misogynous?)

Jewelry: Urban Outfitters bird skull ring, Charlotte Russe gold band, Gap beaded bracelet, Guatemalan friendship bracelet

I was inspired by this Michael Parkes print, but more so by Neapolitan ice cream.

American Apparel nail lacquer in Makeup and Summer Peach, with L’Oreal Pro Manicure nail polish in French Tip White

Wildcard: This is a face (not to be confused with housewares.)

Sephora by OPI nail color in I’m Wired

 

Beginners’ Luck

Beginners is an expert level love story.  Director Mike Mills’ latest movie follows 38-year-old Oliver (Ewan McGregor), whose father comes out of the closet shortly  after a long heterosexual marriage and shortly before dying of cancer. Lonely and trying to make sense of the family life he’s lost, his only motivations are to create hilariously depressing sketches and graffiti or talk to his jack russel terrier.  Then comes Anna, an actress played by actress Melanie Laurent.  She’s someone to roller skate through hotel hallways with, but a relationship is a tall order for the two masters of self-sabotage. A good romance captures all the realistic quirks and nuances between two people. This one achieves that and more by addressing the interplay of love with the whole of one’s rich and traumatic life separate from that love.

The way that Anna and Oliver first meet is a perfect metaphor: They are introduced at the costume party of life, stand together before the bathroom mirror of interpersonal exploration, take off their wigs, and sooner or later get to make out.

McGregor does the whole lovable sad-sack thing well, looking cute even in a Sigmund Freud Halloween costume. And Laurent is entirely sexy in that unwashed-hair- and-little-makeup kind of way. You can tell the director was obsessed because there was one of those montages that’s just a series of tight shots of her earlobes and ankles and stuff (500 Days of Summer, anyone?). Can’t blame him. Her allure, like that of the movie, is in its refusal to be overdone.

Beginners opens Friday and will be playing at the Arbor and Alamo South.

Here are a few things Anna would dig:

Bumble & Bumble Surf Spray, $23

Mary Green “Pascal” silk georgette kimono robe, $110

 

Fred Flare hotel key necklace, $14.99

Madewell summer henley, 39.50

Lipstick and Other Ways to Die

A history of toxic cosmetics

Although  the royal beauties of ancient times bathed in some of the grossest substances to ever fill a bathtub (warm blood, veal stock with egg yolks), it is the more common, widespread beauty practices that have had women making up to meet their maker throughout history. At times, we’ve been endangered by a lack of education or insufficient product regulation. Other times, we read the warning labels and chose to open the bottle anyway. Cosmetics have gotten more sophisticated over the centuries, but many are still considered toxic. Technology has phased out some dangerous formulas but helped invent new ones. Now makeup history is coming full circle as proponents of natural and organic formulas are back to pampering themselves with milk and honey, not imidazolidinyl and oxybenzoate.

Makeup is ancient. It most likely got its start in Egypt, where both women and men swathed their eyes in kohl. This proto-eye shadow was often made with antimony, a highly toxic element which can cause headaches and depression in small doses, or dermatitis with prolonged skin contact. Ruins of Babylon and Greece suggest that people painted their faces with naturally occurring white lead, a common practice destined to continue until the 19th century. The best smiles of the Roman empire came from scrubbing teeth with merciless pumice stones. Sometimes the most dangerous thing about ancient beauty products was obtaining them: a recipe for hair growth ointment found on a papyrus manuscript calls for the fat of a lion, hippo, crocodile, cat, and serpent mixed together. Rinse and repeat.
King Henry II’s mistress, however, had very thin hair. It was a symptom of gold poisoning, which eventually killed Diane de Poitiers, according to a study published in a British medical journal after her body was dug up and studied in France. She had sipped a solution of gold chloride and diethyl ether to prevent aging.

At least she didn’t use the Greek hair dye of yore: leeches soaked in a lead vessel full of vinegar. Another beautifying technique of this period was popular with European women. They dropped extracts of belladonna, a hallucinogenic plant, into the eyes to create that dreamy look of dilated pupils and mild delirium.

Looking fair-skinned and fragile, connoting a luxurious indoor life and femininity, respectively, was the dominant aesthetic in developed parts of the world for a long time. Even when Christianity declared makeup the mark of a loose woman, God-fearing ladies bled themselves regularly to reduce the pesky flush of good health. In the 18th century, tuberculosis was so common that historians suspect it became chic to appear afflicted. Consumed by consumption, women brightened their eyes with a splash of citrus juice and consumed iodine, chalk, or small doses of arsenic to get pale. It sounds unfathomable until you fast forward to modern times, when women continue to pay for their own cancer by spending hours in tanning beds.
Of course, faking pallor externally was always an option, though hardly less dangerous. Lead, sulphur, and mercury (prescribed for blemishes) graced the skin. In late 18th century Italy, a woman called Signora Toffana formulated and sold a lead-and-arsenic face powder to wealthy socialites. She was executed after an estimated 600 men allegedly died from the habit of kissing their wives’ poison-dusted cheeks. The gentlemen of the English Parliament were getting fed up with artificial beautifiers, too. In 1770, a bill passed that said a woman using cosmetics could be penalized for witchcraft and her husband was free to nullify the marriage upon finding out his bride was not a natural beauty. This is either male chauvinism or just a good public health policy.
The 1800s brought some women reprieve from toxic makeup in the name of Victorian purity. Living in a culture that considered rosy faces beautiful but a pot of rouge scandalous, girls had to strategically bite their lips and pinch their cheeks before greeting a handsome suitor.

Get subtle color sans self harm with this sheer lipstick meant to mimic the look of lemon-scrubbed lips:

Lipstick Queen Medieval lipstick, $20. Seriously, harlots, it’s good stuff.

Those who did use makeup back then imported it from France, which was producing “natural, light” cosmetics to suit the style. An 1888 newspaper article warned women of using American makeup, which was more likely to contain bismuth, a substance the writer claimed would cause insanity similar to that of lead-poisoning. The story also advised ladies to remove their makeup with Vaseline as not to ruin their complexions like the actress Lillian Russell, who was reportedly lazy and slept in her stage makeup. This beauty tip still holds true, although few modern women would also add a mask made of raw beef to their evening skin care routines.
Fortunately, the 20th century brought some reforms to the cosmetic industry. Safety became one more selling point that advertisers could use to lure women. The 1920s flappers rebelled against standards of beauty (tan skin was finally fashionable, though still a sign of the wealthy who now spent their leisure time outdoors). Lead poisoning waned, but chemists were busy cooking up parabens, a class of preservatives that are still widely used despite evidence that they can cause cancer. Phthalates, which studies have linked to birth defects, obesity, and autism, were also making their debut as a fragrance stabilizer. In 1921, Chanel No. 5 was the first perfume made with phthalates and synthetics. They were instant classics.

The early 30s brought in some killer looks. Consumers could pick up a skin cream called Koremlu that contained a rodent poison, thallium acetate. The lotion was pulled from department stores once it was obvious enough that it was causing paralysis, abdominal pain, and blindness. Another trendy way to go blind was Lash Lure, an eyelash colorant that claimed the vision of dozens of women. It stayed on the market a good five years after the FDA made the connection but didn’t have the regulatory authority to act on it. The Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act of 1938 was passed, but did little more than allow the government to classify what was a cosmetic and proceed to not regulate it.

Consumer demand for personal care products continued to increase mid-century as celebrity endorsements abounded and industry advancements, particularly in the area of petroleum, provided more variety. It was a market boom with enough preservatives to stand the test of time. By the 70s, nearly everything one could apply to her body contained synthetic fragrance. The FDA flexed its muscles in 1977, though, by banning six carcinogenic color additives commonly used in lipstick. The beauty industry felt so bad about giving women cancer that it stopped using the colors…once the existent supplies were depleted after a few more years. Similar apathy was revealed in 1986, when the National Academy of Sciences reported that many perfumes included toxins that act directly on the nervous system. Fragrance companies –and the government– shrugged it off.
While America persisted in banning products only once women started dropping like (beautiful) flies, reform took shape in Europe in the 90s. Policymakers adopted a guiding belief that cosmetics should be proven safe by manufacturers before they were sold. And in the year 2000, phthalates DBP and DEHP were banned in European Union countries. Willing to be passed up in regulatory measures but not research, U.S. scientists developed a way to test for these controversial chemicals. They were found in the body fluids of all 289 average Americans tested. Exposure is as easy as walking past an Abercrombie and Fitch, where one Californian teen led a protest last year against the phthalate-ridden cologne that the clothing store is regularly sprayed down with. Ads for the scent depicted buff, shirtless personifications of virility. The irony is that the cologne’s phthalates are shown to reduce sperm count and stunt development of the genitals in boys.

Phthalates remain in about three-quarters of our personal care products but are listed on hardly any labels, according to a lab analysis by the Environmental Working Group. If you were born in the U.S.A., your umbilical cord probably supplied you with 287 synthetic chemicals (180 of which are known to cause cancer in humans or animals) long before your first spritz of hairspray. This is the “original sin” of chemical beautification before we can decide if a golden tan is worth melanoma or a trendy keratin hair treatment is worth sitting in a cloud of formaldehyde.
Perhaps the next generation will be better off now that all-natural makeup is catching on, despite the commercial advantages of chemical preservatives.
“The longer something can stay on the shelf, the more money there is to be made,” said Shirley Pinkson, co-owner of Austin-based chemical-free cosmetics line W3LL PEOPLE. Still, the growing success of her brand shows that demand is high for those daily products that won’t help accumulate stores of toxins that could cause disease.
Stacy Malkan, author of Not Just a Pretty Face: The Ugly Side of the Beauty Industry, is also confident that the future holds safer ways to primp.
“We know a ton more than we did five years ago about what’s in our cosmetics,” Malkan said, referencing online databases full of ingredient lists that don’t get printed on bottles. Pressure from organizations like the Campaign for Safe Cosmetics has convinced companies, most notably the nail polish giant OPI, to bring their safer European formulas stateside.
“I see this as a women’s movement,” Malkan said. “We make 85 percent of consumer product purchases. We have the power to decide which companies we allow into our homes.”
Of course, it is up to each woman to decide what price she will pay for beauty. But in the year 2011, at least we can say the information and alternatives make it easier for us all to choose wisely.

Do-gooders can join the Campaign for Safe Cosmetics

Pale chicks can read my guide to fake baking: Snow White and the 7 Tanning Suggestions

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