Au courant

Yesterday was a tormenting day at work and in order to cleanse myself of the taint of so many bodies in need, I fell back on my rituals. I walked home from the resort along the cliffs over the ocean, stopping to watch for whales. At home, I made a farmer's market salad and ate outside in the very last glimmer of daylight. Then I took a bath as hot as I could stand it, poured a large Springbank, two ice cubes, and settled in for the night to eat some pretzel sticks and watch The September Issue.

I am indeed enamored with fashion. I myself am not particularly fashionable; I don't have the body or wealth for it to come too easy, nor the "eye" for it to come naturally. I could never be a stylist or editor, re-imagining clothes and inventing trends. Rather I have an intellectual curiosity mixed with a young girl's glee. I follow the shows each season, know the major players, and read the blogs. In Saudi Arabia, I would stay up very late to watch Elsa Klensch on CNN and various fashion reporting shows out of Lebanon. I can speak the language. I remember once at work asking a coworker if her client was "the one with the Anna Wintour bob?" and her insiders laugh at my question. Ah yes, Anna Wintour. She's not really the insiders code name though. No, that probably falls to Carine Roitfeld, editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris. Still incredibly famous in the fashion world, she's just off the radar enough that most people in gen pop don't know her name.



It's obvious which Vogue each of the above women respectively charter, isn't it?

One thing that struck me while watching last night was the natural appearance of so many of the woman working at American Vogue. Maybe it's because I work in the beauty industry and therefore am constantly coaching and tutoring my clients on how to achieve the plumpest cheeks, fullest lips, most even-toned complexion, but I was surprised. It could have been an East Coast thing as well. Most of the clients that I see from NYC have that similar look; wilted and wrinkly in the face, hot body, opposite of "cute" fashion. West Coast ladies are a different species, with their huge lips, big brea..., wait reverse those, big lips, HUGE breasts, and love of cute.

I do "cute" pretty well on this island, but I prefer ladylike. Ladylike with a nuance of strange, maybe. Like blue eyelet on a warm spring day in the city, but with knee socks and heels... *sigh*



Aloha.