That poor old horse is being flogged to death again.  Thanks to an article in this weekends news, a “light hearted” piece looking at competition at the school gate of ” Slummy Mummies vs. Yummy Mummies”; we are back to the same old argument being sparked in the comments.  The so often spouted clap trap that if you give a damn what you look like then clearly you have nothing better to worry about in your life.  I’m sorely tempted to just say, “grow a brain people!” and leave it at that,  but clearly the topic deserves more attention or it wouldn’t keep cropping up.

So before you get all indignant and start writing me nasty comments (I say this not to my regular readers who already know what this is all about), let me give you a quick snap shot of my life.

Firstly, I work. I work both in the home and outside the home. I work more than fourty hours a week.  I have two children (2 & 6), whom I dote on, play with, sing with, get dirty with. This blog focuses pretty much solely on fashion related issues as it is my interest; just as gardening, scrap booking or collecting toy trains might be yours. My family didn’t sign up for this blog and so I don’t expose them or other non fashion related things here. And most importantly, I’m not interested in competing with you.  Which brings me back to the heart of the issue…

Don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because someone is “dressed up” that they do it to make you feel worse about yourself.  Yes, there are always those groups who are motivated by being the top of the pile in their social group and use fashion as a means of belittling others.  (Which I believe was the ‘light hearted’ topic the article wished to cover) But it would be unwise to tar everyone you come across with the same brush, no matter how conditioned you may be.  In the simplest sense this can be boiled down to one key problem – ascribing moral values to people based on what they look like. Just as certain ethnic minorities in your city are often targeted as being sinister based on their skin colour or choice of religious dress, the same principle of discrimination is at work here. For myself and many others, we dress up because it is fun and it makes us feel good. It doesn’t come at the expense of  “a life” or a happy family.  Dressing well and having happy kids /rescuing puppies/ or whatever other “better things to worry about”, are not mutually exclusive.

Back to the school gate competition issue.  Yes it does exist, but you have to choose to buy into it or NOT.  It is just another adult version of teen peer pressure and generally those that give in to it were the ones that behaved in the same manner in high school. You’d hope that we would have matured beyond that. When it comes to the big “What to Wear at the School Gate”, it is entirely up to you. Dress up, dress down – but figure out what makes you happier and WHY you are doing it. If it is to make other mothers feel inadequate – just don’t, and by the same token if you deliberately break out the old trackies  as a non verbal form of  “well f#$k you!”; then it is time to take a step back and consider the impact of that attitude on both yourself and others.

It’s only a war if you choose to be in it.

That’s enough pot stirring for a Sunday afternoon.

image by .ash on Flickr

Last night I attended an exclusive photo exhibition launch event here in Melbourne for some very talented people. It was the usual crowd of names, faces and a sea of black. Official photographers walking around taking crowd shots,talking to you and taking details. (I don’t mean that to sound wanky, it just is that way at some events)  In amongst all of this was one chap walking around with his little digital happy snap camera, taking photos.  Now being a blogger, I am all too usually doing this myself – cool lighting = photo op, great style = photo op, amazing typography = photo op. You get my drift.  So I generally have no problem with people taking photos or asking to take photos of me.

What got me though was this – as I was standing talking to a friend, she whispers to me, “Don’t look now but there is a chap taking a photo of your shoes.” I casually remarked that that was cool and didn’t bother me, until I noticed that said chap was lying down on the floor at foot level snapping away at my feet WITHOUT EVEN ANNOUNCING HIS PRESENCE! Seriously, if I had taken a step backwards I would have stood on his head!  There was nothing official looking about his photo taking activities, he just melted away into the crowd. I thought this was pretty rude given his intimate knowledge of my toe nail polish shade, but I decided to forget about it and carry on enjoying myself.

After some time, as I was leaving the event, I stopped by the door to pick up some marketing leaflets for the gallery (I had my back to the room). I should mention here that I was wearing a backless dress, so a little of my back tattoo was peaking out. Anyway, I turned around to leave just as a flash went off – and there is this guy again with his hand just about inside my dress to move it back!  He stammers and says, “Oh I just want to get a shot of that tattoo  if that’s ok?”, So trying to remain gracious I say alright, thinking that there will then be an introduction, the usual handshake (however awkward) etc..  But no.  He strokes, snaps and leaves!!

So my question is this – Apart from the infinitely inappropriate use of hands without introductions; do you think this kind of stealth, yet invasive, happy snapping is ok? I know as bloggers we often want to photograph everything we like, but there are times that we have to check ourselves.

How would you have handled this situation?    Is stealth snapping okay?

Thanks for all for your feedback and comments on the Hair Raising Adventure. It is always amazing what an emotive issue hair is for us gals, and I’m glad to read that some of you chaps understand the situation too.  Given that Mr SKM has been shaving his head bald for over twenty years now, it is hard for him to understand the plight, but at least it saves on hairdressing bills to put towards the cost of looking after mine!

So to put you out of your misery, I’m going to show you the results of the hair cut and give you my verdict on the process.

Firstly, I approached this hunt by talking to lots of stylists.  Showing them pictures, diagrams and generally having a chat about what I wanted to achieve.  With the huge variety of up do’s I am always trying to achieve, it somewhat limits my choices of hair cut. So while part of me wants to go the whole hog and get a traditional long middy cut,  it just wouldn’t have long enough layers in it to put up in some of my 1960′s styles.  On these consults, I took with me a copy of a 1940′s hairstyling manual, complete with cutting diagrams and finishing tips; photos of the various styles I wear my hair in; and photos of the lovely Rita Hayworth.  I went to visit a “Master Stylist”, who after assuring me he understood exactly what I needed, gave me a personal recommendation to someone who was supposed to be perfect.  I felt like he has really listened to me, and had a good handle on what I wanted.

When I rang to make a time to see the stylist in question, I wasn’t able to speak with him, nor did any of my calls get returned.  So I gave up and just booked an appointment. It turned out that I needed to split this appointment into two as it was to take over SIX HOURS to complete my hair! Firstly, I had the colour done.  The colourist was a really lovely young hairdresser who took the time to get to know me, making real conversation and still applying herself meticulously to the task at hand. She took her time and made sure that everything was perfect, as the results were to attest to. But here is what surprised me. Given that this was a rather pricey salon I expected more than what I got.  I expected to be introduced to the Stylist that was to cut my hair later that week, but wasn’t even acknowledged till I was walking out the door.  I was expecting the other staff that spent any time with me to give a damn, but chatting about your week to the other stylist in the room while washing my hair at the basin is not okay. I am not an inanimate object, nor am I something to be “multi tasked”.

When I returned later in the week for the hair cut, I sat with the Master Stylist for a few minutes while he listened to what I had to say. I was feeling a little nervous at the lack of questions this prompted, as it also seemed that their wasn’t much understanding of the big picture of what I wanted. I want to be able to trust my stylist, but it is hard to know you are on the same page unless they reflect back to you what it is they think you want. I’m entirely sure that there is much lost in translation between stylist and client, as we all have different mental pictures and can even interpret the same photographs differently.  Anyway, trusting more in the person who had lead me to this Master Stylist, I put myself in his hands and let him begin to cut.

So far, so good. I felt lighter (that could go either way) and could already see the natural curl in my hair beginning to give it more bounce. I was also very impressed with the stylist assisting. She was not only interested in her job, but interested in finding out the hows and whys of what had been going on with my hair. Basically, she took the time to ‘get it’.  Now here I am, hair freshly coloured (win), nicely cut (win) and about to tackle the third part of the holy trinity of hair dressing – the final styling.  In the last few years I have not met a hairdresser that has been able to complete all three tasks with success, so my fingers were crossed that a miracle was about to occur.  But it was not to be.

After chatting to the Master stylist about “wanting to make good use of the natural curl”, the interpretation was “letting it dry naturally to see how it curls.” Okay, this is all well and good, and indeed quite practical to allow then for any other shaping that the cut may need. But I have to say that this must be the part that gets lost in translation, and as I saw the diffuser coming towards me, my nerves increased. Still, I sat there, hoping that this was just a part of the final evaluation process and was relieved to hear, “I’ll diffuse this, then stretch it out a bit”.  But once I could see the product going onto it to finish it off, I was having a minor coronary in the chair. I looked like the 1990 version of myself, like Jennifer in Flash Dance, and a moment of sheer horror and panic ensued.

Were did we go wrong? Like I say, lost in translation. ( I could go on here for an age addressing where I think all these styling issues lie, but I’ll move it along until we reach the solution.)  I don’t know what the Master stylist was thinking at this stage, but if he was as horrified as me, he hid it well.   “Is this too casual for you?” I tired to explain that I don’t do “casual” like this even when taking the rubbish to the top of my street! But how to fix it? He tried a little more brushing and stretching to no avail, then suggested that perhaps we should wash it and try again? I was almost about to agree to another hour and a half in the chair to make myself presentable, when words were issued that spelt the death knell on this relationship. ” How about I get the girls to put some curls in with the GHD?” My stomach turned and then I knew I was back to square one. I couldn’t disguise my horror as I almost lept out of the chair to say, “Absolutely Not!” and then gave a dissertation on the directionality of curls and how it was imperative they be created the correct way to achieve these vintage styles.   In the end I gave a lesson on barrel curls to the 2ic, and had to short cut the whole process which left me in a frizzy, but passable state.

The good news is that the cut is working out well, and the colour is brilliant.  The bad news is that what I paid for the honor of having to style my own hair (yet again),means that it is unlikely I will ever go back.  When I could already get a decent cut (albiet not perfect) and colour for a third of the price locally, it just doesn’t make good sense.  Perhaps I am the client from hell, perhaps my standards are just too high or perhaps I just need to keep on looking. (Thank you for your recommendations – I will be trialling those on the list)  But at least I can say that this week I have good hair again thanks to that good cut and colour – even if I still have to do the styling myself.

Now I’m off to the local bingo hall to pump the old ladies for information on who does their sets!

Stop the press! Today’s post has been halted to bring you the news of this appalling act of art theft. Diva – the accessory store that so many of my Australian readers, including myself buy from, has done the dirty on Shana Logic, stealing their independent artist’s designs.  We all know that the fashion world is rife with “inspiration” pieces and plain old knock offs, but usually those that are doing the copying, are creating “diffusion’ pieces from the bigger labels.  Not that that issue makes the behavior any more acceptable, but to steal the work of small independent designers, then mass produce it in your own factories at dirt cheap (read cheap labour) prices, is abhorrent.

Image from the Shana Logic Site

Shana Logic has been a beacon for independant designers to get their work out their at a reasonable price and encourage other budding artists to give it a go.  The best course of action is for those of us who like to spend our discretionary accessory money at Diva, is to STOP. Right away.  We already knew that their designs were not full of originality or creativity; let’s face it.  The fact that they are fast and on trend appeals to our sense of ‘now’ and ‘cheap’.  But this is taking it a step too far and I for one will NOT be buying any of these pieces at DIVA, no matter how quickly they can satisfy a craving. I will be showing my support by buying the originals, from the ORIGINAL artists at Shana Logic. And I suggest you do too.

Say NO to Art Theft!

Some days when all the planets seem misaligned, and everything goes wrong, it can all just seem like too much. But instead of spending the day shaking in the corner nursing a cup of tea and watching Oprah under a blanket, it helps to have a go – to action plan for these moments.  Given that I am currently in the midst of such a day, I decided to share with you my plan of action for dealing with those hiccups in your sunny disposition.

The Plan

Wallowing.

Cry if you need to, hug a soft toy or the nearest available person.  Mind you, you had better check their willing involvement in this hugging stage as you don’t want to end up in and even bigger problem!

Call a friend who cares and always makes you feel better.  They don’t have to say anything, fix anything or do anything; just be there and listen.

Thank said friend for being so wonderful and make a large cup of tea. Wallowing over.

Get Busy.

They say that “idle hands are the Devil’s play things”, so find something useful to do that doesn’t take any serious mental capacity and get to work! For such times I like to tackle vacuuming with vigor, perhaps washing a window or two or even pruning a few plants.  Making a real, visible and immediate change in your environment works wonders when you are in a tizzy.

Take a hot shower.

Pick the most decadent shower gel you have hidden away in the back of the cupboard and make yourself smell like a Hawaiian sunset. Once you have thoroughly soaked and can feel the heat all the way to your heart, now is the time to test out if you are ready for a song. I like to go with that old classic, “I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair”, whether I have man troubles or not. (*disclaimer* I NEVER have man troubles.  The Mr. is too much of a darling for that. *wink*)

Light them on fire.

These days we pretty much all have some sort of scented candle, oil burner or what not hanging around the house.  Add to your uplifting atmosphere by enveloping yourself in a scent you love and let it take you away.  My favorite scent of the moment is the Tibet Tangerine melts from DUSK candles. They have an uplifting, clean quality about them that helps to clear the head.

Give in to a weakness.

You may have been denying yourself chocolate, day time T.V or possibly those trashy magazines you secretly covet.  Give in to one of these little inexpensive desires and let yourself feel only the pleasure and none of the guilt. Me, I’m soothing myself with a few inexpensive lovelies from my Etsy Wish list.

Make a plan and get on with it.

One of the most valuable lessons I have ever learnt in life is when to worry and when not to.  If I am concerned and worried about something I take a good hard look at the problem and figure out what all my options are for dealing with it.  No matter how practical those options are or not, give them each time for thought and write it all down.  Soon you will be able to sort out those things that you can do something about and those that you cannot.  For those that you can do something about, make it happen.  For those you cannot, give it up and choose not to worry.  There is no point wasting your valuable energy on things you cannot change.  For those that you have no resolution for, do nothing about them, but realise that doing nothing is a decision in itself and come what may.

Start again.

After all of these solutions, you may not necessarily feel on top of the world, but you are certain to feel less blue. If you can, now is the time to go to bed, take a nap or turn off all your equipment and start again.  The idea that “tomorrow is another day”, is really something that we construct for ourselves.  So if you don’t have the luxury of sleeping on it, find a way to divide a time and space for yourself to start the day over. It may be as simple as shutting down your computer or doing some stretches.  But trust me, follow these tips and if you don’t  feel like a million bucks, a spanking new $100 isn’t too bad either!

Feeling better?