Tag Archives: hair

And the Oscar Goes To…

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Did you watch the Academy Awards?  I did.  Starting with the red carpet at 7pm because, let’s face it; the main reason to watch the Oscars is to see what everyone is wearing and how they look.  I thought this year was especially attractive.  There weren’t, in my opinion, any real disasters as in years past (Cher, Bjork, Celine Dion – the backwards suit, come to mind).  In fact I thought it was a display of considerable class and restraint.  Simple, yet elegant, nothing to outré.  Of course, quite a few fashionistas were absent.  I didn’t see Nicole Kidman or Renee Zellweger.  I missed J. Lo and Gwyneth Paltrow.  No Johnny Depp, who can usually be counted on to not only look weird, but as if he hasn’t bathed in a week.  Too harsh?

Yes, I thought over all, the celebs were well turned out and if you tuned in you were treated to some very bee-yoooo-teeee-ful looks.  I’m gratified that the younger among our movie stars are showing some taste and sensibility.  It’s encouraging.  Not so true of the older set.  Why is it, when some film stars get to a certain age (or uncertain, as they would no doubt prefer) they forget how to appear in front of a camera?  Or maybe they just don’t care.  Hard to tell.  Why is it some insist on hanging on to a look they should have given up back when Johnny Carson was host?  Plastic surgery can only do so much.  Now I’m not saying that every face lift is a bad lift.  I think one can have work done and still maintain some facial integrity.  But did you see poor Kim Novak?  She used to be so beautiful.  She used to have a face.  Her mouth was pulled so far horizontally she looked like she was created by Jim Henson.  Goldie Hawn (whom I LOVE, btw)?  What is she thinking?  Wear some sleeves.  Cut your hair, girl, and stop trying to look like a twenty year old.  As Rob Reiner told her character in “First Wives Club,” “Another face lift and you’ll be able to blink your lips.” And Liza?  I can’t even go there.

But there were some mature women who looked beautiful, radiant, elegant, and most importantly, age appropriate.  So here are my nominees for Best Achievement in Aging:

Glenn Close – I’ll say right up front that some of the fashion police didn’t like her ensemble.  She wore a black Zac Posen fishtail gown with a little shrug-type jacket.  Eonline.com complained that she should have ditched the jacket, but she knew what she was doing.  She was keeping her upper arms under wraps and I thought she looked great.  Plus, her hair, her make-up, all very natural but stylish, said confidence and sophistication.  Gorgeous, IMHO.

Meryl Streep – I once had the pleasure of waiting on Meryl in the specialty department store where I was a buyer, and by her own admission, she doesn’t have much style sense.  Often she’s appeared at the Oscars looking like she threw on her Aunt Edna’s discarded evening gown and put her hair in a banana clip.  Not so, this time.  First off, her luminescent, porcelain, clearly unaltered face glowed with her hair neatly pulled back.  She wore small earrings and left her glasses at home and she appeared Madonna-like (the religious one) in a simple Lanvin black skirt and cream off-the-shoulder top.  I thought she looked stunning.

June Squibb – This woman, who played Bruce Dern’s nagging and outspoken wife in the nominated film, “Nebraska” is eighty-four years old and she totally rocked the red carpet in an emerald green Tadashi Shoji gown which was one piece but had the look of a dress and fitted jacket.  Again, with long sleeves.  You can bet this woman hasn’t had a thing lifted but with her white hair and red lips she conveyed style and sass.  I should look that good at seventy, never mind eighty.

Bette Midler – I thought she looked fabulous in her short-sleeved Reem Acra, red and white floral gown.  The fit was fantastic and she just wore simple earrings, her hair in its usual semi-retro, blonde curls.  Very unfussy and totally flattering.   She looked like, well, herself!

And finally, Sally Field – She’s been the butt of Oscar jokes since her “You like me” speech at her best actress win for “Norma Rae” but for someone who seemed to need our approval years ago, she stepped out at age sixty-seven with grace and confidence in a beautifully embellished but simple, short-sleeved, black Randi Rahm gown.  If that girl has had work done, you’d never know it.  Gidget grew up gracefully.

In my opinion they’re all winners, and it just goes to show that like Oscar, with some suitable style, you’re golden.

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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Aaagggghhh!!!  AAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!  My hair stylist just informed me that he’s retiring.  Can you believe it?!  How could he do this to me??!!  It’s not that I begrudge his putting down the scissors and putting up his feet.  It’s not that I think he should work until he keels over.  But does he have to retire now?  Couldn’t he wait until he’s, say, ninety?  You know, just another 30 years or so until whatever hair I have left is a shade of blue and can be done by the same person who is changing my Depends.  Is that too much to ask?  Am I being selfish here?

I do love my hair stylist and Lord knows the guy works really hard.  He deserves to enjoy his golden years relaxing.  But where on earth am I going to find someone to cut my hair?  It’s just not that simple.  Since 1978 and my first “Peter Pan” I’ve worn my hair short and boyish.  Oh, there was a minute there when I got the bob and perm bug, but I quickly came to my senses and went back to the look that suits my face and lack of hair styling expertise.  I don’t even own a comb.  So the cut, a good cut, is ESSENTIAL.  And since Brian has cut my hair, the experience is not only stylistically satisfying, the entertainment factor is immense.  The guy is hysterically funny.  Many are the times he’s had to wait for me to sit upright to finish my hair cut, while I, doubled over with laughter, gasped for breath.  And since he owns the shop and only has one other operator, it’s quiet and easy going (except for the sound of my cackling, that is).  When I was preparing for my wedding and felt like my hair wasn’t doing what it should, he cut it again, for free!  He just cares.  He cares.  Did I mention that I drive three hours there and back for this little slice of salon heaven?

The fact is I’ve been really spoiled and now must find another spot to spoil me.  A friend recommended a place very nearby that seems to be where all the hip people are going.  Her hair always looks great so I figured she must be in the know.  I called to speak to her stylist who also happens to be the owner, just to see if there was a rapport there.  To see if she would be someone I’d like to spend an hour with every five weeks.  First a supercilious assistant insisted that I make a fifteen minute consultation appointment.  Said appointment could not be for another month however, as this person is so busy that she can’t squeeze in two minutes to look at my head and say hello.  Okay.  I understand.  See you in six weeks.  Then, when the appointed day arrived I walked into the salon to find myself in the midst of a bee hive, and I don’t mean the hairdo.  There were about twelve operators and they were all yakking away over the drone of high powered hairdryers and the bass line of piped in techno music until I thought my head would pop off.  “Are you checking in?” the receptionist says to me.

“I’m checking out.”  This place is definitely not for me.

Now I’ve had my hair done in almost every major city in the country at one time or another, so it’s not like I can’t handle a big, busy salon.  I mean the flip side of my local experience is Elizabeth Arden Red Door in Washington, DC, where you feel as if you need to take your shoes off and then curtsey when the intern to the assistant to the hair washer comes to fetch you for your audience with the stylist.  But honestly, unless they’re wearing little green and white checked pinafores and singing “Ha, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho, and a couple of tra-la-las.  That’s how we laugh the day away in the merry old Land of Oz…” I prefer to not feel like I’m on the conveyor belt of a grooming assembly line.  A little personal service is all I’m asking.  Look at my head.  Look at my face.  Talk to me for a minute to know my personality and what I expect.  In other words, GIVE ME A LOOK.  Is that too much to ask?

In the meantime I will continue to walk up to well coiffed strangers and say “Who cuts your hair?”

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Got A Look?

Welcome to my first blog post and gotalook.com! The great opera singer Maria Callas said that everyone needs to have a “look.”  Here I hope to explore, discuss, relate, vent and generally comment on all matters associated with one’s look.  But not just your look.  Your image.  Because as an image consultant that’s what I do best.  So what’s the difference between an image consultant and a stylist?  A stylist deals strictly with your look; clothes, make-up, hair.  Basically the outside.  An image consultant is called on to address not only how you look but how  you sound, behave, your speech patterns, mannerisms, language,  attire,  posture,  etiquette, interviewing skills and how you FEEL about the way you look.  In other words all things that affect the image you present to the world.  Want some help in this area?  Take a look at my web site http://www.gotalook.com and find out how I can help you feel better about yourself.

Do you have a look?  Get one!

In the meantime, Can I Just Say…

What is it with the cropped pants?  Two words I hate to hear in the same sentence are “cropped” and “pants.”  Really.  Is this a look that’s flattering?  Who came up with this?  No one who has calves, I can tell you that.  It must have been someone whose pants shrank in the wash and instead of sending them to Good Will said “I know.  I’ll wear them anyway and start a new trend that looks really hideous and unflattering.  Oh.  And then, I’ll pair them with some horrible, big round-toed sneakers so that even if I have thin enough legs to maybe pull this off, they’ll look like two toothpicks stuck into a couple of marshmallows.”

Six more inches of pant leg could do so much!  They don’t have to be sitting on the tops of your shoes.  How about stopping at the ankle, which in most cases (not all, unfortunately, but most) is the narrowest part of one’s leg.  Wouldn’t that look great?  Wouldn’t that look chic?  Yes!  Is it so hot out that having six more inches of bare leg is going to keep you cool?  Here’s an idea.  Wear shorts!  Or better yet, a skirt!  Then one has a clear shot of air conditioning all the way up to the hot seat.  And it feels good.  Granted, not everyone has the legs for shorts and it’s true  they won’t be able to stop at a moment’s notice and pull up the stray weeds in the garden, but guaranteed they’ll feel differently.   Walk differently.

And once we’ve ditched those cropped pants (ugh) we can still wear comfortable shoes.  Flats look great with a skirt.

We might even be motivated to put on a pair of…dare I say it…heels!  But that’s for another time.

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