These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
I could view today as the fitting coda to a week that found me feeling unhappy. That's better than declaring it a shitty way to begin my vacation!
Got up this morning feeling fine. It was the first Saturday morning in ages that was both warm, sunny and dry. I figured I'd go to my favorite coffee shop for breakfast, run a few errands, and then spring clean. After all, I leave for my trip to Colonial Williamsburg on Monday morning and wouldn't it be nice to leave with a less-cluttered condo on my conscience?
In the sunshine, my eyes REALLY bothered me. Watery and painful. As I dined, I found I had an easy time reading with my eyes lowered, but looking up hurt. Back out in the sunshine HURT!
I walked the few blocks to Walgreen's and their Take Care Clinic, my hands visoring my aching eyes each step of the way. I'm surprised by how powerful and independent those eye muscles are. I really had a hard time making my eyes do anything!
The nurse practitioner at Walgreen's was very popular today. Seems strep throat is going around. That is not at all what I have. I have allergic conjunctivitis. I thought that's what it was! Friday afternoon in our clown-car office, my eyes began stinging at about the same moment one of my coworkers reached for her inhaler! Our office building is one of the nation's tallest with more than 80 floors, and lately there's been a lot of remodeling going on. That means we're breathing a lot of dusty recycled air these days. And what irritated her lungs was irritating my sensitive eyes.
Anyway, most of my day was spent in the Walgreen's waiting area. Then I got my two prescriptions. The doc-in-the-box warned me that they were expensive. I told her I didn't care. And, at that moment, I didn't. I hurt, and I wanted to get the hurting to stop before I board my plane Monday morning! Plus Williamsburg isn't going to be any fun if I can't see it!
I left with a steroid nasal spray and NSAID eye drops. They cost me $10. When I saw that, without my insurance, they would have cost me more than $225, I suddenly did care and was grateful that I have coverage.
I'm feeling better now, though I'm indoors and it's well after sunset. I'm hopeful that the worst is behind me, painwise, and I'll feel better tomorrow for Easter.
Last night I met my former coworker, Tom, for drinks and chicken tenders at Infield's, a bar in the basement of the State Street Macy's store that none of our friends go to. I chose it because I wanted us to be able to speak freely ... and because I'm charmed by the sports motif and I can't wait for baseball to start.
Anyway, I was struck anew by how positive Tom can be, how voluble and very sweet. Even though he's currently unemployed, he is freelancing and so he and his new fiancee are moving full speed ahead with their wedding plans. She's over 30 and, as a pediatric intensive care nurse, is acutely sensitive to how quickly the odds of a difficult pregnancy become over 35. So they hope to be wed this fall.
Good for them. Good for him. Seeing him was a bright point in an otherwise low-energy week.
I've been feeling pretty blue lately and last night I was reminded to count my blessings.
I went to the theater (Priscilla, Queen of the Desert) with my friend, Barb. Beforehand we had a very nice dinner at a new restaurant -- at least new to us -- called Tamarind. And yet my mood remained bleak. I was fixating on how worried I am about my job, I felt superfat, I am disturbed about the issues with my sisters. I just couldn't shake the blues. Could. Not. Shake. Them.
Got off the train near my home at 11:00 PM. There were four of us, altogether, getting off at this stop. None of us knew one another. But soon we were operating as one.
There was a man of about 35, curled around the lamp post, on his side in a fetal position. There was an obviously bleeding cut on his head, above his eye. He smelled strongly of booze.
I kept walking but I had a plan. I knew my cell was dead -- I received a text from my oldest friend while riding the train and my phone did that telltale beep. But I knew I'd be in my living room within minutes and would alert the police to his dilemma.
But I heard a lot of conversation behind me. The other three had circled the man, trying to help him up. "Are you OK?" "Is there anyone you want us to call?" "Do you know where you are?"
I stopped to watch. If the three of them had it covered, I wouldn't bother the police. But I wasn't confident they did. The man still sounded drunk, or at the very least woozy, and kept refusing their help. He was on his feet, but now he was swaying a bit.
I headed on over and poked my nose in. I pointed out that I couldn't call the police myself but that one of them should because he was weaving and might end up falling onto the tracks. He didn't hear me, even though I in no way lowered my voice.
The other woman in our sober quartet of Samaritans touched my arm and nodded. "You're right." Then she turned to the men and said, "Let's get him down the stairs." She was indicating the other end of the platform, opposite from where I needed to go, chosen because it was so well lit and so far away from the tracks and danger.
I was satisfied that they had it under control and walked down my opposite set of stairs to my home.
Had this poor man been beaten, robbed and left on the still-icy platform? Did he get that cut on his face when he fell, or did someone punch him? How long had he been laying there? He looked so vulnerable, wrapped around that street lamp.
I am lucky. I am healthy and solvent and live in a town where all of us considered the best way to help. That's a lot, really. It's important to remember my blessings.
I just found a blog that was a rich source of facts and stats about that which brings us together.
1) America is home to approximately 31,000,000 bloggers
2) More men than women blog. It's a 60/40 split.
3) Wordpress and Blogger are the two most popular platforms. 4) Caucasians represent the largest (48%) single blogging ethnicity. 5) It's hard to make a blog pay. More than 80% of bloggers will never make more than $100 from their blog.
6) But 2% earn $150,000/year blogging from exotic locations. 7) More people blog than post. Wordpress estimates that there are 500,000 posts/day but only 400,000 comments.
8) 329,000,000 people view at least one blog each day. 9) 60% of all businesses and corporations have a company blog. 10) 65% of those business haven't updated that company blog in more than a year. 11) Most blogs (66%) are in English. 12) Only 1% of posts are published in Swedish. 13) Successful bloggers -- as defined by those who get the most hits -- explain their content through each post's headline.
It's always fun to watch Hollywood look at itself. And no movie about movies is more fun than 1967's Valley of the Dolls.
It's both cheap and expensive. It's high camp that takes itself very,
very seriously. And it's a colorful time capsule of the swinging 60's
most ostentatious hair, makeup and wardrobe.
The clothes were done by Travilla. He was one of Marilyn Monroe's favorite designers, having dressed her in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Bus Stop and, most famously, The Seven Year Itch. Yes, he was responsible for that white dress, the one that blows up when Marilyn stands on the subway grate.
It's
hard to believe now, but back in the mid-1960s, Valley of the Dolls was
a high-profile, highly anticipated movie with a huge budget. So
Travilla went into it knowing that money was no object. He would run
into many, many problems working on this massive, messy movie, but
finances were not among them.
A savvy veteran, Travilla understood his task -- to use his skills for character exposition. He once said of Valley of the Dolls, "... the very nature of the women is projected by that which they wear."
The first of the four major characters he dressed was Anne Welles, played by Barbara Parkins.
He described Anne as a "shy, clean-cut American girl from New England
... I designed her clothes honestly, simply and attractively in the best
of taste." In the 1960s, that woman, and those
clothes, were exemplified by a certain First Lady. It's easy to see how
Jackie influenced Anne's earlystyle.
Once
Anne's character becomes a glamorous city girl -- and improbably, a
high-fashion model -- her style changes radically. Her hair, clothes and
makeup are all very loud in the movies fabulous fashion montage.
She's the Gillian Girl, the face of a cosmetics line and the idol of
millions, but naturally that is not enough for
her. She wants love and hot sex, as personified by (of all people) Paul
Burke. (The key to enjoying Valley of the Dolls is to just let it
wash over you, don't ask questions.) So she retires to domestic
(albeit shockingly unwedded) bliss and her clothes get a bit more
subdued, typified by pastels and sensible heels. But she's now living a jetset lifestyle -- New York to Malibu
and back again -- and it shows in her obviously expensive wardrobe, complete with de rigueur mink.
Then we have Jennifer North, as played by Sharon Tate.
She was by far Travilla's favorite. He was effusive in his praise,
describing her as "divine" and likening her to Monroe. "She has the same defenseless, childlike quality
that Marilyn had."
Unfortunately,
he had less to do because her character's arc was so narrow. Jennifer
begins as a showgirl and ends up in softcore European porn movies (aka "art films").
Travilla described Jennifer as "an ample, no-talent, stunning girl whose
only asset is the display of her body ... In one scene, we practically
had to sew her into her gown."
The first time we see Jennifer, she's in the chorus of a Broadway show. She descends a staircase wearing this awe-inspiring blue feathered creation and worries aloud that she may be "too top heavy." This comment, of course, makes her the topic of vulgar jokes. Jennifer is good-hearted, vulnerable and completely tragic -- a la Monroe and Mansfield.
Then she moves to Hollywood. Her clothes are beautiful but, just as Travilla intended, the style is still too flashy, still too revealing.
Next up: the redoubtable Helen Lawson. Travilla sums up the villain of the piece as personally "foul-mouthed and ruthless, completely without taste or finesse … She comes on like gangbusters -- like a scream." The first time we see Helen, as played by Susan Hayward, she's in her Broadway dressing room, swearing and smoking and terrorizing everyone who crosses her path while wearing a manish, tailored, "screaming red" suit. (I know this shot looks orangey but trust me, it's red in the film.)
Yet when the play opens, and we see Helen onstage (performing a ridiculous song surrounded by floating plastic pop-art), she's transformed into musical theater royalty. When Travilla gives her a gown in angelic white, he softens her onstage persona and helps us see why her loyal public still clamors to see every "Helen Lawson show."
Legend has it Travilla thought this gown didn't fall quite right. All the outfits worn by Susan Hayward's Helen Lawson were originally designed for Judy Garland. Judy's Valley of the Dolls costume tests still exist, as do stills of her wearing the "screaming red" suit as she shot Helen's first scene. Garland was fired and Hayward brought in and there wasn't time to create all-new clothes. Instead they had to be hastily altered. Susan was taller and curvier than the short and by now quite gaunt Judy. If Hayward wore the oversized shoulder pads installed to make the tiny Garland look more formidable, she felt she looked like a linebacker. When Travilla removed them, he felt he ruined the silhouette. But the clock was ticking. Neither Travilla nor Hayward were completely pleased with what Helen wore.
Except for The Suit. Garland walked off with it. Some say the studio gave it to her, to console a legendary star who had just been unceremoniously dumped. Others say she stole it out of spite, exacting a price from the producers who humiliated her. At any rate, The Suit had to be recreated from scratch for Susan Hayward.
Colorfully, intricately beaded, it was Travilla's favorite piece from Valley of the Dolls. Therefore it stands to reason to that he would want his favorite actress photographed wearing it. Here's Sharon Tate, playfully posing in the recreated costume.
Here's how Helen Lawson looked in the second version of The Suit, the one made for expressly for her and that she wore as it appeared in the final film. And on the right is Garland wearing the original onstage, as she continued to do until her death two years later. Sharon has a mock turtle under the jacket, as opposed to the
scarves worn by both Helens -- Hayward because the green scarf has to go
from accessory to headwear in the famous catfight scene and Garland,
presumably, out of personal preference.
Finally there's my favorite, Neely O'Hara, as played by Patty Duke. Travilla describes Neely as his "ingenue ... perfectly natural and full of zip." A little girl with oversized talent and showbiz in her blood, Neely was obviously based on Garland (which naturally made the first few days of filming with Judy herself as Helen more than a little awkward). At the beginning of the movie, when Neely was scrapping and belting her way to the top, she dressed casually and simply.Young Neely's penchant for red may have been Travilla's fashion foreshadowing, letting us know that soon this talented little girl would be following in Helen Lawson's screaming-red-suited, "don't fuck with me" footsteps.
And sure enough, once she became famous, and her life became complicated by booze and pills and power and fame, her clothes became more complicated, too. Here she is in her white bouclé mini jacket/vinyl go-go boot glory for a movie premiere at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
After a rather lurid stay in rehab, Neely returns to Broadway. Here our little egomaniac is, posing in front of her own poster. Again, Travilla's costume immediately conveys that our talented little sprite is no longer wholesome and now perhaps even dangerous. (Note that, like the real-life Garland in Summer Stock and A Star Is Born, Travilla often has Neely flashing leg.)
Patty Duke-as-Neely personifies everything that's hypnotic about Valley of the Dolls. She's over-the-top yet compulsively watchable. And she has all the great wardrobe malfunctions. There's a terrific scene where she crosses her legs with
great flourish and the bow from the toe of her pump goes flying out of
the shot. How can you not adore such a movie? And then there's this ...
Watch Neely's necklaces. These chains work overtime. At about 1:57, they literally lasso Patty Duke's breasts. And this is what I love about Valley of the Dolls. On the one hand, it's fastidiously designed couture. On the other hand, it's trashy dimestore necklaces that just won't behave.
Travilla won an Oscar for the Erroll Flynn swashbuckler, The Adventures of Don Juan, and an Emmy for dressing Linda Gray and Victoria Principal on Dallas. He may have preferred to be remembered for that, and for his work with Marilyn. But when I have the blues, I slip in my VOD DVD and find myself delighted anew by the camp classic and his contribution to it.
CHECK OUT OTHER FASHION IN FILM BLOGATHON ENTRIES.
On Tuesday I paid the junk removal company $225 for hauling away 1/3 of a dumpster worth of stuff from my mother's supposedly empty house. I also looked through the before/after photos they provided and saw what they took away -- four bedrooms' worth of window coverings, a table lamp, a bedframe, three American flags, window screens, furnace filters, lots of debris that looked slats of wood … and, most gallingly, a kiddie pool that was stuffed into my mother's living room coat closet.
My kid sister's husband and two of his friends from work supposedly emptied out the house in January. We -- "the estate" -- paid them $625 for a job they simply didn't complete. That's why the kiddie pool bugs me: someone shoved it into the front closet.
Two weeks ago, when I let my sister know that the mortgage company wanted these last items removed and then they would give us the deed in lieu of foreclosure we need to be released from all liability for my mother's home. I thought this was good news.
She was furious! She remains furious. I think it's because she and her husband knew the job wasn't finished and she's defensive. But I have never, not once, blamed them. I have always presented this as positive because that's how I feel.
I cannot charge "the estate" for finishing the job -- thereby splitting the cost three ways -- because then my older sister would bitch about being billed twice for the same thing. She would have a point, of course, but then I would be in EVEN MORE TROUBLE, and I hate putting my sensitive young nephew in the middle of this family squabble.
And oh yes, he is. Today is Wednesday. Easter is Sunday. I'm clearly not invited to spend the day with them. So I'll send him his basket. This is his first Easter without Grandma and, even though he is 13, this will be a melancholy day for him and I want him to feel loved.
I, however, will just continue popping Xanax until this week is over. Sunday I will celebrate Easter and Monday I live for vacation.
I always like to bring my own color to pedicures because then I can do the touch ups myself. And today at lunchtime I chose this year's lucky shade -- Revlon Optimistic. I initially chose it because it kinda reminds me of fruit punch, but I admit I like the name, too. I want to feel more optimistic! So, little bottle of polish, you are going to the Spa of Colonial Williamsburg with me.
My oldest friend has suddenly rediscovered Facebook, and she and Archie Bunker are now "liking" one another's posts. So far he "likes" that she remembers A&W root beer drive-ins and she "likes" that he wishes he could grab a mitt and play catch on a sunny spring mornings.
Carson's is my favorite department store twice a year, in the spring and in the fall. That's when they sponsor The Goodwill Sale. For every article of "gently used" clothes or linens, you get a coupon for 25% virtually anything in the store -- 15% off cosmetics.
Last weekend I went above the waist: I bought a belt, a pair of capris, a lightweight jacket and a half dozen spring tops. This weekend I concentrated down south with three pairs of pants -- two slacks (in case I find myself interviewing this year). I also got a pair of crocheted cardigans, in case it's crazy hot again this summer and I have to dress it up. And all of this was about $200. I'm facing forward, thinking of Spring. I'm ready to feel brand new and the new clothes reflect that.
I didn't know that I could wash the shower mat and "drain hair catch thing" in the washer ... with bleach! I'm thrilled! They are now clean and odor-free. Practically good as new.
1) Crazy Sam's mom and dad still talk about how exciting it was to see Sinatra in Vegas! What music did/do your parents enjoy? My dad liked to listen to this lady named Jane Morgan. He played her tapes (first 8-track, then cassettes) in the car all the time. My mother enjoyed a cheesy 70s pop singer named Engelbert Humperdinck, but that's because she had a crush on him. I think it was the sideburns.
2) We all know Sinatra sang, and he won
an Oscar for his acting. But he also painted and was proud to sell a few
canvasses anonymously (signed "Artanis"). Do you have a secret talent? I can wiggle my ears. That's about it.
3) Those close to Sinatra maintained that every time he sang,"In the Wee Small Hours" (hear him perform it live here) he conjured up how it felt to lose his great love. Have you ever had your heart broken? Yes. But I'm still glad I knew him and I hope he's happy.
4) In 1966, when he was 50, Sinatra
married 21 year old Mia Farrow. Their union lasted less than two years.
Do you think a wide age gap necessarily dooms a romantic relationship? If the gap is three decades wide, I think it does. Five years, even 10 or 15 years, I think love can conquer. But look at them at the ballpark! They look like father and daughter. He's wearing a suit and tie! I wonder if their views on politics, pop music, books, etc. could have possibly been compatible. Wait, probably not, since their marriage lasted less than two years.
5)
Offstage Sinatra wore orange sweaters and liked seeing orange throw
pillows in his home and dressing room because he believed "orange is the
happiest color." What color raises your spirits? Blue
6) Frank and his loyal buddies were famously known as "The Rat Pack." How many people do you consider close friends? A half dozen or so. But since they don't really know one another that well, I don't think I could ever herd them into a pack.
7)
Sinatra's children followed their father into show business. What
advice would you give a young person entering your career of choice? Have something to fall back on. I'm in advertising, and with each passing year I realize anew that it's a young person's profession. You never know when you're going to be out of a job and, like my friend Ed found himself at age 57, unemployable.
8)
Legend has it that Frank was embarrassed by a scar on his face
(received at birth from the forceps used in his delivery) and worked
hard to cover it. Do you have a physical characteristic that you try to
hide? I don't like my upper arms. I never go completely sleeveless if it can be avoided. I also firmly believe that America doesn't want to see the back of my thighs. I just bought a new pair of capris to wear this summer to protect you all from the vision of me in shorts.
9)
In 1964, when he first heard The Beatles, Sinatra was very dismissive.
By 1970, he called the Beatles' "Something" one of the most beautiful
ballads ever. Tell us about something you changed your mind about. John Edwards. I saw him as a modern-day crusader for the poor, not the blue-eyed scummeister he turned out to be.
Because I'm so upset by the situation with my sisters re: my mother's estate (to make a long story short, everything I do is wrong), I'm having trouble getting joy out of other areas of life. Worse, little things are rocking my world.
For example, The Body Shop closed two nearby locations -- one for good, one for renovation. The nearest shop is now a (Magnificent) mile up the street and will require me to walk 20 minutes up Michigan Avenue! No, don't talk to me about their website. It's still a freaking nightmare. Besides, I want to sample the lotions and potions before I buy.
This should not be shattering. The weather is getting better, and people come from all over the world to walk up Michigan Avenue. And The Body Shop is not the drugstore -- once I stock up and I won't have to keep visiting it over and over. So why am I so upset?
Because I don't like my life right now.
Oh well, there are good things to report: My vacation is little more than a week away. YEA! I heard from my best friend heard my pleas and is back in regular (OK, nearly constant) contact. My oldest friend has been very supportive. (I owe her an email or two, which is nice instead of it being the other way around -- which would mean she was the one with the blues.) I found a group that meets every month to watch and discuss old movies (I signed up for Mildred Pierce in May). And baseball starts in little more than a week. I'm always happier when I have the Cubs.
Her royal highness, Queen Mimi threw down the gauntlet and dared us to use nothing but one-word answers as we respond to this meme. I'm notoriously blabby, but let's see how it goes.
1. Where is your mobile? Purse
2.
Your significant other? Who?
3.
Your hair? Brownish
4. Your mother? Gone
5.
Your father? Gone
6. Your favorite? Paul
7. Your dream last
night? Unremarkable
8. Your favorite drink? Coke 9. Dream/goal? Organization
10. Virtue? Unselfish
11. Hobby? Reading
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here
14. Where were you last night? Sofa
15. Something that you aren't? Thin
16. Muffin? Breakfast
17. Wish list item? Cash
18. Where you grew up? Nowheresville
19. Last thing you did? Ate
20. What are you wearing? Jeans
21. TV? On
22. Pets? Cats
23. Friends? Cherished
24. Your life? Complicated
25. Your mood? Melancholy
26. Missing someone? Yes
27. Car? None
28. Something you're not wearing? Shoes
29. Your favorite shop? Carson's
31. Glass half empty, or half full? Full
32. Shiver, quiver or
slither? Shiver
30. Your favorite color? Blue
33. When is the last time you laughed? Today
34. Last time you cried? Movies
35. Who will resend this? Dunno
36. One place that you go over and
over? Work
37. One person who emails regularly? Auntie
38. Your favorite place to eat? Delia's
Let me know if you play along so I can check out your one-word answers.
Got up this morning feeling fine. It was the first Saturday morning in ages that was both warm, sunny and dry. I figured I'd go to my favorite coffee shop for breakfast, run a few errands, and then spring clean. After all, I leave for my trip to Colonial Williamsburg on Monday morning and wouldn't it be nice to leave with a less-cluttered condo on my conscience?
