I’ve been reading a book called All You Need To Be Impossibly French. Pourquoi? Because I grew up loving classic French novels like Claudine and Cheri by Colette, and Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan, and enjoying movies like Funny Face, An American In Paris, and Gigi. Not to mention my obsession with French films like A Man And A Woman, Jules et Jim, And God Created Woman, and Belle du Jour. I’ve always found the mystique surrounding French women, especially Parisian women, kind of fascinating. Why are they so different? What makes them so special? Are they really more sophisticated, chic, elegant, fashionable, and sexier than we are? Or is the myth of the French woman just that…un mythe?
So much has been said and written about the French mystique, but I experienced it close-up-and-personal several years ago on my first trip to Paris. After an hour or so on the Champs-Elysees, I realized that Parisian women truly were in a class all their own. Clumping down the Avenue in my sensible shoes, among “le petit femmes” in their stilettos, I felt like an awkward giant. While I was stumbling over man-hole covers, they were navigating the sidewalks in their five inch heels as if they had wings on their feet. And not one of them was larger than a size four. I, on the other hand, could have rented out my butt for billboard space. I’d never seen so many slim, fit, attractive, well-groomed, fashionably dressed women in one city. No, they weren’t all beautiful by any means, but they BELIEVED they were. And that radical, unequivocal, self-confidence…one might even say arrogance…goes a LONG way.
Here are a few of the well-documented myths about French women…
They’re all thin…
Of course they’re not ALL thin! Please! But according to European Union statistics, French women are the slimmest in Europe, weighing an average of 126 lbs. I can attest that I saw very few overweight women in Paris…and I’m pretty sure that most of the chubby ones were tourists.
They don’t like to exercise…
They hate gyms and they loath sneakers, but they walk everywhere…in stilettos. And they spend more than 91 million dollars a year on slimming creams and gels. I have no idea what those creams and gels do, but they swear by them.
They eat rich, fattening foods and drink fine wines…
Well duh…wouldn’t you if you lived there? How could you not partake in le vin, champagne, baguettes, jambon, pâté de foie d'oie, fromages a la stinky, and patisseries? But apparently they’re capable of extreme discipline and portion control. And they smoke…a lot.
They love luxurious lingerie…
According to Helena Frith Powell, author of All You Need To Be Impossibly French, French women “wear nice underwear for themselves, and not for men, love to unwind around the house in sexy lingerie, and don’t think twice about spending $150 on a pair of panties and a bra." And, every single French woman she spoke to agreed that “underwear must be matching.” Hmmm, I must be at least part French, because the bra I’m wearing matches the panties under my bed…
Also, did you know that the dressing rooms in the lingerie department at Galeries Lafayette (an upscale department store in Paris) have two buttons on the wall…one to summons an assistant to help you with styles and sizes…and the other to change the lighting inside the cubicle from day to night, so you can see how your new undies will look when you lover undresses you? Seriously…
And speaking of lovers…
They don’t have a problem with lovers. The French differ hugely from Americans when it comes to fidelity, in that they view adultery as a fairly normal pastime. They certainly had better examples of sex and seduction in their literature. While Emily Bronte was fictionalizing her sexual hero in Wuthering Heights, George Sand was trying to get laid. And while Elisabeth Bennet was trying to bag a suitable husband, Emma Bovary was in the back of a carriage with young Leon…
Their role models tend to be writers and intellectuals, rather than movie stars and fashion models…
When Helena Frith Powell asked the French women she interviewed for her book to name the woman who had most inspired them as a role model, they almost all nominated writers or intellectuals. The top five were; Simone de Beauvoir, intellectual icon; Louise de Vilmorin, one of the grandes dames of French literature; George Sand, journalist and writer, born Amantine Surore Lucille Dupin; Francoise Sagan, who wrote her brilliant first novel Bonjour Tristesse at the tender age of eighteen; and Colette, one of the most important figures in French literature. Not an Angelina Jolie or a Heidi Klum in the bunch! French women see intellectual rigueur and culture almost as important as their beauty regime. They view knowledge as much sexier than a short skirt and a pout, merci beaucoup!
They’re not obsessed with “youth” and looking young…
French women are generally against botox and cosmetic surgery, and don’t seem to have the insecurities about aging that we Americans do. According to French actress Elisabeth Bourgine, “To erase the passage of time is a mistake…the most beautiful thing in a face is expressions…it’s better to have a few wrinkles than a face with no emotions.”
However, they do see beauty as something to work on. They start from a very young age by protecting their skin from the sun and eating well. They maintain that regular and healthy habits are far more effective than layers of concealing makeup. And, French women…and men…feel that age has nothing to do with sexiness. Maturity and experience are sexy! It’s not uncommon for French men to enjoy sexual liaisons with older women. It seems that, in France, there’s something much more honest about growing old gracefully than desperately clinging to youth. It’s just common sense!
So, are French women better than you or I? I wouldn’t go so far as to say THAT. But they do have a lot going for them. They’re attractive, smart, and sexy. They age realistically and are comfortable in their skin whether they’re twenty or sixty. They dine sensibly on fabulous cuisine, dress fashionably, wear expensive underwear, and can walk gracefully for long distances in really uncomfortable shoes. They have amazing role models. They take excellent care of themselves, and believe that they’re worth it. And let’s face it…believing in yourself is half the battle!
au revoir! C
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Say It With A Tee Shirt...
Summertime…and the livin’ is easy! We socialize more…hit the parks…the malls…the outdoor cafes…the road. And summer is when the tee-shirt people come out. You’ve seen them. Heck, you might even be one of them. They have an opinion, and they want you to know it. So they wear their heart on their sleeve…or rather emblazoned across their chest…so you can’t miss it. Here’s a selection of some of my favorites from this summer…so far…ranging from cute…to in-your-face…to tasteless,…to…well…even more tasteless… - PEOPLE WHO THINK THEY KNOW EVERYTHING ANNOY THOSE OF US WHO DO -
The woman wearing this one was large and in charge. Don’t challenge her…she’s headed toward the buffet and she looks hungry and pissed-off.
- YES, I’M A BITCH…I’M JUST NOT YOUR BITCH -
Was there ever any doubt?
- KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY TUTS -
(Two faces of King Tut, strategically placed over the girls)
Actually, this one was mine. I got it years ago at the King Tut Exhibit in NOLA. Obviously a desperate cry for help…
- HAVE A DAY -
(A happy face with a straight line for a mouth, instead of a smile)
Also mine. For those days when I really want to bitch slap those clueless, bright-eyed, eternally optimistic people who apparently aren’t aware that it’s 110 degrees outside, and that I’m in the throes of a raging hot flash.
- GIVE PEAS A CHANCE -
(Cute little green pea happy faces)
A shout out to potential vegetarians everywhere. Less effective than a bloody lamb strung up by it’s hind legs, but still compelling.
- HELL IS SO HOT THIS TIME OF YEAR -
A thinly veiled slam at those annoyingly, pretentious creeps who avoid St.Tropez in the off season. Read between the lines…it’s says, “Get a job! Oh, that’s right, you don’t need to work…you’ve got people to do it for you.”
- SHHH…I’M TALKING TO GOD -
Is it reciprocal, or are you just asking for more stuff again?
- I’D TELL YOU TO GO TO HELL, BUT I WORK THERE AND WOULDN’T WANT TO SEE YOU EVERYDAY -
A job that sucks AND a chip on her shoulder. Chill, Babe…
- THE MAN - (arrow pointing up) THE LEGEND - (arrow pointing down)
You just KNOW this guy hasn’t been laid for months.
- MABEL’S WHOREHOUSE…WHERE THE CUSTOMER ALWAYS COMES FIRST -
I don’t know if it’s a real whorehouse or just a gift shop, but I’m all about coming first, regardless of what they’re selling.
- HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A GREAT SUMMER! -
No, that’s not a tee-shirt! I really mean it!
C
Monday, August 1, 2011
Ralph...Lifestyle Guru and Style Icon...
My inspirational role model is Ralph. I met him last November, at the Dallas SPCA on Industrial Blvd. As I walked by, he shot me his most intense, charismatic gaze. That come-hither look that said, “Baby, I’m yours.” I was bewitched. So I signed the papers, purchased a collar for his tags, and took him home.
Did I mention that Ralph is a dog? An exuberant, mixed-breed terrier who, as it turns out, has an intoxicating love for life that’s contagious. Ralph has the ability to make even the most mundane act an adventure. "Wanna take a walk?" Tail wag…leap…spin…frolic! "Dinner-time?" "Time to go to bed?" "Want a treat?" "How about a few pistachios?" Tail wag…leap…spin…frolic! His enthusiasm knows no bounds. And he always wears black, with a little white at the neck…very Georgia O‘Keeffe. So he’s my style icon as well.
Ralph is the WalMart greeter at his local dog park. People and dogs alike, he doesn’t care. He’s at the gate welcoming them to his world. No face goes un-licked…no crotch un-sniffed. His absence of discrimination and complete lack of prejudice are legendary. Everybody knows Ralph. And in Ralph’s eyes, everyone is beautiful and all is right with the universe.
He likes to run. Just run. Tethered to a bike, he’ll run alongside said bike for miles…through the neighborhood…down the bike trail…around White Rock Lake. Ears back, scraggly facial hair blowing in the breeze, he races to nowhere with the boundless energy of an Alaskan husky in the Iditarod. His destination? He has no idea. His purpose? Just to run. His reward? An ice cream cone at McDonalds, which he devours with relish. He really doesn’t need a reward though, because Ralph is all about the journey. But he does love that last little bit of crunchy cone…
Whenever I feel cranky, Ralph’s my guy. A few minutes of having my face licked, and looking into those soulful brown eyes, is enough to make me pull my head out and realize that life really isn’t that bad. Ralph walks the walk, and lives the dream. He wakes up to a new day, everyday. He eats dog food and filet with equal enthusiasm. He finds absolute delight in the most inconsequential pastimes…chasing a Frisbee, chewing on a rawhide bone, or playing with a bug. He drags his blanket around to the shady spots, and when there’s no shade to be found he simply revels in the sun. Ralph’s capacity for joy and love, minimal needs, and zest for life inspire me daily. You could say he’s my lifestyle guru!
Gotta go make coffee now and get ready for work. Tail wag…leap…spin…frolic!
C
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Heard It In A Love Song...
The CD player in my car is broken, so I’ve been listening to an “oldies” radio station on the way to work. I like to sing along, as I know most of the lyrics to almost every song, and belting them out helps me vent my road rage. It’s amazing how quickly and thoroughly music can transport me to another time and place, make me smile, laugh out loud, or even bring me to tears. Have you ever noticed how many songs are written about love? Looking for love…falling in love…being in love…fighting for love…losing love...re-kindling an old love. Why are hundreds, even thousands of songs written about love? And I’m not talking about the love you have for nature, mankind in general, your kids, your dog, or Ben and Jerry‘s...I‘m talking about THE love.
Do you remember the first time you fell in love? I do. And though it‘s long since ended, a certain song always reminds me of that love…fresh and innocent…pre-expectations and baggage. The melody creeps up on me, slowly exposing those emotions from the past that I keep so safely tucked away, hidden even from myself. Suddenly, all of the neatly stacked memories come tumbling down on my head. I remember exactly how I felt the moment I fell in love, and the despair I felt when it was over. Tears sting my eyes and a lump forms in my throat, as I search for an explanation for why something that began with such promise had to end. Then the song is over, the feelings of loss and regret fade away, and I’m back to the present, where only a lingering twinge of sadness remains.
John Lennon once wrote, “All you need is love.” But love isn’t only what we need…love is why we’re here. According to The Bible, our purpose for life on earth is to go forth, be fruitful, and multiply. Oh sure, we can do that without love. Check out any bar on Friday night. Believe me, it’s done!
But, to live life without love? THE love? I don’t care if you’re the happiest, most successful, self-confident, financially secure person in the world. You may have great friends, a fabulous career, and plenty of money, but without love, something is missing. I’m not just talking about love for nature, mankind, etc. And I'm not talking about sex, although there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. I’m talking about that, and more. I’m talking about THE love...lover, friend, companion, confidant, ally, soul-mate, partner in love and life.
I’m talking about the guy who holds you at night and tells you not to worry because he’s there for you. And he is. The one who rubs your neck when it hurts. The one who washes the dishes for you after you’ve cooked his favorite meal. The one who brings you flowers, just because you love flowers. The one who shares his hopes and dreams with you, and who cares about your hopes and dreams. The one who can’t imagine a future without you by his side. The one who tells you everyday that he loves you, even though he knows you already know. The one who doesn’t keep score. The one who slow dances with you barefoot in the dark. The one who sees all of the hot babes prancing around out there, but chooses to make love to only you, because he thinks you’re the most awesome woman alive.
The reason so many songs have been written about love is because love makes life happen! “Love makes the world go ‘round.” That’s just the way it is...and that’s the way it will always be...like it or not. Is love really all you need? Well...no. We need food, clothing and shelter. We need a clean water supply. We need health-care. We need cell-phones. No, seriously, we do. But these are material things…tangible things, We need them to exist. But love! We need love to really live! Love is a song, written from the heart , dedicated to life with THE someone who makes your heart sing. Love is...a feeling. And, “Oh, what a feeling” it is!
C
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Pranzo Stile Italiano (Lunch Italian Style)
It was a beautiful Spring day in Florence, Italy. I was on my way to the Galleria degli Uffizi, one of the most fabulous art museums in the world, where I planned to spend several hours viewing breath-taking Italian Renaissance masterpieces like Botticelli‘s “Birth of Venus” and “The Annunciation” by Leonardo da Vinci. I decided to eat lunch first, and stopped at a tiny but charming café near the museum. Although I was hungry, I wasn’t in the mood for pasta or anything too heavy. My waiter suggested proscuitto with melon and mozzarella.
Thus, began my love affair with a traditional Italian appetizer/first course that I consider to be the perfect light lunch! It’s a classic flavor combination. There’s something about the sweet juiciness of the melon that wonderfully complements the salty porkiness of the proscuitto. Throw on some fresh mozzarella in the mix and you’ve got a dish that is insanely divine!
This is one of my favorite recipes for proscuitto, melon, and mozzarella. Try it with a sparkling glass of Italian Prosecco.
Ingredients
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup (packed) fresh basil leaves plus sprigs for garnish
1 medium shallot, quartered
1 small (about 2-pound) cantaloupe, halved crosswise, seeded, cut into 6 wedges, peeled
6 small fresh water-packed mozzarella balls or one 8-ounce ball, drained
6 thin slices prosciutto, cut in half lengthwise, gathered into ruffle
6 8-inch wooden skewers
Directions
Using on/off turns, puree olive oil, 1/3 cup basil, and shallot in processor until basil and shallot are finely chopped.
Cut each cantaloupe wedge crosswise in half. If using large mozzarella ball, trim and cut into 6 cubes.
Alternate 1 melon piece, 1 piece ruffled prosciutto, 1 mozzarella ball or cube, 1 more prosciutto piece, and 1 more melon piece on each skewer. Can be prepared 2 hours ahead; cover and refrigerate. Bring to room temperature 15 minutes before serving.
Arrange skewers on platter. Drizzle with basil oil and sprinkle with cracked black pepper. Garnish with basil sprigs.
Serves 6
Buon Appetito! C
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Pearls of Wisdom, from a Wise Old Crone...
The answer? "Yes and no." At fifty-nine, I'm more intelligent, more intuitive, more interesting, more focused, and less of an emotional hot mess than I was at twenty. I'm more confident, more content, and less reactive to criticism. I can take what life throws at me now on a daily basis with minimal drama. There are people who would laugh at that last statement, but only the ones who weren't around for the circus that was my life at twenty. I've come a long way, baby....
But...and it's a big but...my life is more than halfway over. Actually, closer to two-thirds over...possibly three-fourths over...hard to know. Had I not been the partying, live-for-the-moment, sugar junky, meat-eating carnivore that I was for the first fifty-nine years of my life, I might go with slightly halfway over. Whatever, I could die tomorrow eating greasy onion rings, drinking sweet tea, and texting while driving to work.
The truth is, I do mourn certain aspects of the loss of my youth. I miss jumping out of bed in the morning and being able to stand up straight immediately. My hair is turning white with alarming speed. I gain weight when I look at food, and I look at food a lot. The frown lines between my eyebrows need spackle. I actually saw my tricep fluttering in the wind while I was driving with the window down. No, aging is not for the faint of heart.
I have learned a few things though, and I would like to share with you these pearls of wisdom that I have gleaned so far from my stint on Planet Earth...
Learn the difference between cautious and fearful, relaxing and boring, organized and anal, and curious and stupid.
If you see something beautiful, interesting, and/or profound...stop...and really look at it. You might never see it again.
When you think your life is boring, get over it. Life is never boring...You're boring. Turn off the TV, get up off your butt, and DO something.
When someone criticizes you...before you get angry, pout, or run out of the room crying...really think about it. Was their criticism valid? Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. But don't just go with your knee-jerk reaction...think about it. You might learn something about yourself.
To quote Woody Allen - "Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." So stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself...one day you'll wish you'd made better use of your time.
Life is a thousand times more bearable if you can laugh at yourself.
Unconditional love, and tolerating abuse from a loved one, are not the same thing.
Self-love and narcissism are not the same thing.
Don't ever think because you are able to talk, go to work everyday, make money, and worry and obsess about life, that you are smarter than your dog.
A kindle will NEVER replace a book.
When you travel to a foreign country...dine on their cuisine, try to speak their language, wander off from the tour bus, and immerse yourself in their culture. If you can't do that, you might as well save your money and go to Branson, MO instead.
And last, but not least...when you look in the mirror every morning...regardless of whatever age you are at the moment...regardless of the laugh lines, the gray hairs, and the flabby triceps...be grateful for what you have...what you know...who you are. And love...love...love. Love life. Love others. Love yourself! Be curious! Be adventurous! Relish your life with wild abandon...it's all over much too soon!
I'm off to IHOP! C
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The best laid plans of mice and men (and women) often go awry...
Most single women my age are desperately seeking a husband. Not me. I need a keeper. And by keeper, I don’t mean a man to keep me dressed in designer duds and draped in diamonds…although…I guess that wouldn’t suck. No, I need someone to crack the whip…someone to take me by the ears…look into my eyes…and tell me to focus…with real authority and conviction. This morning, I made a plan for the day…..take the interstate to the mall….buy underwear at Macy’s lingerie sale….leave the mall WITHOUT going to any other stores….and go to McDonalds for a Caesar salad. How hard could that be?
While driving on the interstate, I noticed a road that veered off to the left. “I wonder where that goes?” I thought, as I careened across three lanes of traffic to exit left. “I didn’t need that third cup of coffee anyway,” I thought, as I wiped it off of my shirt. I got off the interstate, and turned onto a street that I was pretty sure went somewhere close to the mall. “OMG!….a DSW Shoe Warehouse!” I squealed with delight, as I whipped into the parking lot...however, it was not the mall parking lot.
I walked around in a shoe stupor for about an hour…clutching three pairs of sandals…trying to decide which ones I liked best…until I realized that all three pairs were black, and variations of the black sandals that I was already wearing. I put them back on the shelf and left.
Suddenly, I was as ravenous as a pot-head after a Grateful Dead concert. “Wow man, where did that imagery come from?” I thought. I noticed a café across the street…a “raw food” café called Bliss. I’d heard about the raw food craze, but had never been to a restaurant that served only uncooked food. So I decided to skip McDonalds, and go raw.
I was in the mood for something unusual and spicy. I asked the waitress to surprise me. I told her I liked Thai food, so she brought me a raw version of Pad Thai. I have no idea what was in it…looked like julienned and chopped vegetables with a peanut sauce….but it was delicious. It had just the right amount of spicy heat, was vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free….and conjured up fond memories of afternoons at the old Babylon Café in Memphis….only the food was somewhat more complex and sophisticated. I sat there contently devouring my raw Pad Thai with chopsticks….grooving to Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, and Crosby, Stills & Nash….and trying to figure out where I was in relation to the mall.
Another hour later, I parked my car in front of Macy’s and ran in to buy underwear. “But wait!” I thought, as I headed for the lingerie department. “I wonder if the Anthropologie store here has that cute top I tried on at the Anthropologie store in Highland Park last week….only in my size?” I dashed out of Macy’s into the mall. I stopped by Urban Outfitters on the way to Anthropologie to try on tee shirts. Then I went into Sephora for a complimentary makeover, looked at jewelry in Barney‘s, walked thru Cartier and Louis Vuitton, and tried on a fabulous cocktail dress at Roberto Cavalli. Why? Because I could. I just couldn’t buy it. On the way back to Macy’s, I stopped at Paciugo for a scoop…ok, two scoops…of Mediterranean sea-salt caramel gelato. Orgasmic!
So today, my simple plan went totally awry….again. My spontaneous streak and lack of-self discipline spun out of control….again. But what a fabulous day! I’m relaxed and happy, I’ve got new undies, and I have a new lipstick from Sephora that Stevan (with an “a”) told me I must have because it’s “my color!” Maybe I don’t need a keeper after all. Maybe I just need a GPS…
C
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)