Sunday, June 20, 2010

Camel Toe


Last Saturday was a warm spring day, and a client who comes every week for a blow dry with one of my most creative and successful stylists arrived wearing short shorts. This woman is trim and usually quite well dressed. Another client pointed her out to me, remarking on what happened when the woman sat down. Her shorts got even shorter, her Hadassah thighs spread, and she looked like she wasnt wearing shorts at all. I wondered whether all the mirrors in her house were from her waist up. How could she not know that her legs in those shorts would completely destroy her total appearance and actually make her look vulgar? Although her calves were not svelte, they would pass in a skirt or shorts that were longer, at least to the knee.

And if that wasn't enough, this woman has a voice that carries! I mean CARRIES!!! The pitch could break glass, and she isn't subtle about her conversations either. Once she was on her cell phone the entire time she was in the salon, including while she was getting washed, and continuing as she was blown out. Didn't miss a beat! Can you imagine how loud she needed to speak when the water was running and her head was in the sink? Not to mention that her phone could have been ruined. (I would have accidentally soaked it just to get her to shut up.) And then she continued talking with a blow dryer in her ear, but never changed her pitch. Everyone could hear every word she was saying. Another client was going to tell her how rude she was, but I intervened and calmed her down (although I really didnt want to stop her). This woman holds a very important position in the community. Can you imagine?

Don't women (and men) see themselves? Don't they know that they have strengths and weaknesses in their appearance and their personas? That we can be just as unattractive as attractive in both the way we dress and our behavior? What about those women who are "fleshy" and insist on wearing spandex so that they actually look naked, leaving nothing to the imagination? Gross! Wouldn't a dress or loose slacks and a top be just as comfortable, if not more so? I had a housekeeper who was, let's say, a bit more then Rubenesque. All she wore were clothes that were too tight for her, like she grew out of them two sizes ago. I think that she thought that she looked "sexy." (But why would you want to look sexy cleaning a house anyway?) I remember that one day she had zippered pockets at the breasts of her jumpsuit and they hung where her nipples would be. I thought they were tassels! I was ready to ask her not to wear that jumpsuit again as my daughter might get the wrong idea.

What about those women with camel toes? What's that about? Do they think that it's an attractive look, like a cleavage? Do they think men are going to get turned on by seeing the actual shape of a vagina? And its almost always on a woman who is overweight or unattractive. Maybe thats why they do it--they have nothing to lose. Isn't that uncomfortable anyway? If my balls were being squashed like that I think I would be quite uncomfortable, as well as embarrassed.

Nobody is perfect, but why flaunt the negatives? I was about twelve to fifteen pounds overweight a few months ago and I would wear my shirttails out or a sweater that covered my love handles or gut. When I got dressed, I would try on something that might have fit when I was at my best weight and immediately take it off when I saw how bad I looked. I don't think I'm vain--I just think I have enough self-pride to know when I look good or not.

It really doesn't take much to look in a mirror and take off what doesn't work. Then again, make sure that you show off your best features. Got breasts, show em off. I don't mean take them out, but wear something that enhances them. Got legs, let's see. Legs always look good in heels but heels aren't appropriate for all occasions. I have a client who has great gams (or at least did when she was younger) so all she wore were heels. Heels with skirts, with shorts, with a bathing suit and I'm sure when she was getting dressed, before she even put on her underwear, she put on her heels. As she got older, her ass got bigger, her skirts got shorter and her heels got higher. If she bent over to put down her handbag, she ran the risk of her ass hanging out from under her skirt. Now thats a bit excessive! Again, where are the mirrors in her house? Nice ass, flaunt it! In pants or a skirt I mean, not naked, or not pants or a skirt that are too tight. That becomes vulgar and again, can lead to "Camel Toe."

Don't hide behind your clothes. They are intended to make you look attractive. Wear what works and get rid of what doesn't. There is nothing more attractive than not showing the whole thing. Teasing! Thats what low-cut, a side slit in a skirt, a plunging neckline or back is all about. Did you ever go to a nude beach? Not the prettiest sight, is it? Most of the people on nude beaches shouldn't be there. But then again, thats another consciousness.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Sylvia


From left to right: Myself, John, and Sylvia

Sylvia had been a client of mine for 41 years. Sylvia was special! So much so, that most of my clients knew her or at least knew of her. If I made a move, most of my clients were more concerned about whether it was convenient for Sylvia than for themselves. She had a following, a fan club. Whatever it was, she was famous among my clientele. People loved to talk to her. She made everyone feel special, loved and happy. She always commented on women's clothes, hair or makeup, and especially on their breasts, if they had nice ones. She loved breasts! She was never afraid to fondle another woman's breasts. She would sort of ask first before squeezing, but not really wait for a response, as she might get a no! Not what she wanted to hear. I mean, she would be gentle (after all, being a woman she knew how to fondle a breast). So, she would ask, "Mind if I touch them?” and before the word 'touch' crossed her lips, her hands were all over them. No one seemed to mind. After all, it was Sylvia!

The first time I met Sylvia, I was working as style director at Saks Fifth Avenue Beauty Salon in Bala Cynwyd, PA. There was a smart looking woman having a manicure in a hair drying chair near me, and she summoned me with her crooked finger. Usually, I would reject this kind of demand, but something about this woman made me respond. I sat in the dryer chair next to hers and she said, "I'm Sylvia, and I'm wearing a hairpiece. Do you think that you can do this? Elliot does my hair." (Elliot was a well respected hair stylist in the Main Line area of PA at that time). I said, "Of course!" so she booked an appointment with me the next week, and the rest was history, as they say.

Sylvia never missed a week, mostly because she was in need of me more than any other woman that I did, due to her extremely thin hair. She would say, “It's a curse!" But then she would say, "What can I do?" She never accepted it, but she made the best of it.

I remember one time when I had opened my salon in Center City, Philly, Sylvia was afraid to drive on the expressway (can't blame her, as it is a little scary). Her brother would bring her for her appointments. One day, when she was ready to leave, my assistant came over to her, kneeled down and whispered, "Sylvia, your driver is here." Her response was, "Say it louder!"

She was like a Jewish mother to me, always proud of my achievements, but they were never quite good enough! After all, Allen Gold had a bigger salon than I did! Not good enough! "You should have been rich by now! Why do you have to travel and do the things you do? Why don't you save your money?” She truly loved me, as I did her. I wasn't blessed with the most loving and caring mother (years on a psychiatrist's couch, and stories for another time), but I was blessed with Sylvia!

She had two hair pieces at all times. One that was on her head and one that was in the salon to be groomed for the next Saturday morning when she arrived. My protégés' were all trained on Sylvia's hair pieces. One time, one of my assistants washed the hair piece that she would be wearing that week and wrapped it in a towel. The towel got picked up, thrown into the washer, and need I say what it looked like when the cycle was over. We spent hours combing out the mats. But we never told Sylvia. She just thought that that hair piece seemed a “little dry” for a few weeks (it took a few times to condition it back into shape).

Her 90th birthday was a blast. Everyone wanted to roast Sylvia! And roast they did. But the overall consensus amongst the guests was that Sylvia was unconditionally loving. She was going blind by then (macular degeneration), but you would never know it! I think I was doing her makeup when she came in every Saturday by that time. She would not wash her face till Tuesday or Wednesday just so she could stay looking good. Shortly after that, Sylvia would grasp for words. She seemed unable to finish sentences, or she'd get lost in a thought. Since she couldn't see when someone would say hello to her, she would summon me to come closer with that very same finger that she used the day we met. I would kneel down, and she would whisper, "Who's that?" being sure to say hello and to make sure that no one really knew how bad her eyesight was.

Then, there were caretakers. They would bring and take her. Some kind and good, and some that left her to us and had a cell phone in their ear the whole time they were there. One time, one with a cell phone brought her in, and I noticed that Sylvia's shoes were on the wrong feet. It pissed me off so bad that I called Linda, her daughter, and vowed to report anything to Linda that I didn't like. We finally got her three wonderful women that cared for her and truly loved her as she did them.

Last October, was the last time I saw Sylvia. She stopped coming. I guessed it either didn't matter to her anymore, or it was just too difficult. In November, I called her and she was as cordial as could be, but I knew that she really didn't know who I was. I would call a few more times, not to talk to her, but to Vanessa, one of her caretakers that had worked for us, just to find out how she was doing. Her spirits were good always, even if her health wasn't. I made arrangements to pay her a visit one Thursday. Figured I'd bring lunch. I called Vanessa to find out what time would be best, and she told me that Sylvia had had a bad night, and she didn't think that it would be a good time for me to come. Even though I had cleared my day, I understood.

I was sitting in a box at the Devon Horse Show this past Memorial Day and realized that I had a message. I played it back and only heard, "Linda," and, "Mother died," and knew what I was going to hear when I could listen to the whole message. I wasn't surprised. I was glad for Sylvia that it was over for her. I knew more then anything Sylvia's dignity was the thing that she cherished most after her kids, grandkids, great-grandkids and of course, me. That's why it was ok for her to stop getting her hair done. Losing her dignity was just unacceptable! Eyesight was one thing. But one's dignity? Not!!!!! Even though I had lost Sylvia in October, I am still saddened. After all, I did love her unconditionally!

One time, when "cell phone care taker" was caring for Sylvia, John and I were afraid that she wasn't eating properly and decided to bring her dinner. We arrived, Sylvia came out from her bedroom wearing a velour sweatsuit. She had put rollers in her hair. She propped herself on the edge of the couch with her back as straight as it could be and entertained us until we left. It was painful to watch her try to remember what she was trying to say, but she never let down her guard! She never lost her dignity! She was ninety four.

I love you Sylvia, and always will! XOXO