She’s just so mouthy

Part 1.

I like lipstick.

A lot.

Every time I see a lipstick I get a little bit excited.

Every time I see a lipstick I want to buy it.

I want to open it up and smear it all over my stupid face.

I’ve got great lips, and lipstick looks AMAZING smeared over my stupid face.

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I prefer a good matte finish (just get out of here with your useless, disgusting gloss-soaked wands) and I’ll never pay more than $9.99 for a tube of the stuff, but that is because I am both a cheap bastard, and because I am apt to conclude that there cannot be THAT big of a difference between my Joe Fresh collection and what’s being shipped out of the Chanel Institute.

I mean, how could you possible justify charging (least of all PAYING!) fifty dollars for a shade of red that exists in perpetuity in every drug store the wide world over?

I SEE YOU SEPHORA.

When I left my last position I was gifted with a very generous gift certificate to a downtown shopping mall and with these funds I purchased a forty dollar Tarte lip pencil. And while this product is darn fantastic and makes me lips tingle and taste of minty freshness, I would never again purchase this piece of maquillage because forty dollars is basically two to three days’ worth of groceries and I’m only ever eating that pencil if and when things get really dire.

Anyway, no matter how much or little I pay, lipstick makes me feel like an absolute super hero.

I put it on five minutes before leaving work and I am immediately transformed from Grouchy Eye Bag McGrimmeister into Kick-Ass She-Warrior McHyphenate.

Sure, maybe I was born with it, but holy hell if this shade of pink doesn’t crank it up a notch:

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That’s right.

Those are your nuts in my vice grip.

ENJOY IT.

I never understanding people who say to me, “I wish I could wear lipstick like you!”

And then when I inform them that there isn’t a single thing prohibiting them from taking part in the universal fun that is lipstick, they respond with, “Oh no, I could never do that!”

And to this, I always just want to yell into their faces – WHY!?

Why in the heck would you think that, you weirdo!?

Unless born lipless (and what a tragedy to befall anyone!), everyone is 100% capable of wearing lipstick.

And I urge you, and everyone to try it.

I’ll hold your hand and everything.

But it’ll cost you fifty dollars in Chanel product.

And your nuts.

Part 2.

I don’t like Mark Messier.

In fact, Mark Messier is like the anti-lipstick.

I don’t get excited when I see him.

I don’t want to smear him all over my face.

I wouldn’t spend ANY money on him, and he doesn’t make me feel unstoppable.

And much to my chagrin, he’s EVERYWHERE.

The dude is all over Youtube like some terrifying, leather-clad social media STI.

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Every time he pops up, Marc (my husband) asks, “Is this a Cialis ad?”

AND IT TOTALLY IS.

I don’t know why Mr. Messier grinds my gears to the extent that he does.

Perhaps it’s the ghost of my hard core emotional hangover from the summer of 1994 (combined with the broken heart I suffered in 2011.)

Perhaps it’s the memory of his crappy Lays potato chip ads.

Perhaps it’s because the NHL is such a ridiculous bush league, run by bums, dullards, and hacks, that any reminder of this organization and the garbage it stands for makes me want to ralph.

Basically folks, it could be a whole myriad of things.

But all I really want to say is that NO ONE IS ASKING YOU ANYTHING MARK MESSIER.

You and lip gloss can just get the heck out of here.

Part 3.

Yesterday I bought a homeless person a hot chocolate.

I try to do these things as often as I can, although it can be hard. Living my own busy, silly little life can leave me so caught up in getting from A to B (or achieving A to Z) that I don’t often see the different humanities co-existing right in front of my eyes.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t spend enough of my life with my eyes wide open. That I should be feeling more, doing more – affecting more positive change within my day to day activities.

But then I know I am being too hard on myself. That I work very hard to ensure that I am engaged and making a difference every day, both personally and professionally.

I cannot do everything for everyone, every day and all of the time.

No one could do this even if they try.

Which is why I do.

Which is why I really, really try.

Putting on a show

On Wednesday I pulled a King Lear and went for a run in a storm.

(Unlike Lear however, I managed to keep all of my clothes on.)

There really is something to be said for powering through totally crap weather. But then again, there is also something to be said for knowing when to say ENOUGH.

Of course, today is absolutely blooming gorgeous (though still chilly to the bone) so I’m excited to be out and about, actually feeling some of that sunshine on my face.

In other BIG NEWS – yesterday I purchased tickets for this year’s Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

YAY!

This makes me SO EXCITED.

Oh Ashland – I love you with so much of heart that none is left to protest!

This of course means, that the I won’t need to keep running in the rain to get my regular dose of old Willy Shakes. This year we will be seeing King Lear (my absolute favourite tragedy, I CANNOT WAIT), along with Cymbeline and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

MEEP.

I love this production company SO MUCH it is hard for me to appropriately communicate just how much I am looking forward to this trip.

Much like last year, we will be camping, but unlike last year we will be driving straight to Ashland (with perhaps a stop in Portland because, you know, PUT A BIRD ON IT) and staying the length of our trip in the town.

This will be my fourth time at the festival, (and somehow my third time seeing Midsummer!) and I am basically already bouncing off of the walls just thinking about it.

Because dudes – I LOVE SHAKESPEARE.

Lovelovelove him.

It.

His plays.

(Or what you will.)

See what I did there?

Fry-up time!

Don’t give me that lip.

Currently I am obsessed with red lipstick. If I could only wear one piece of make-up for the rest of my life, it would be my choice.

HANDS DOWN NO CONTEST.

(Although you would probably also have to pry my NARS blush from my cold, dead hands.)

There is just something about a strong lip that makes me feel like a super hero. I like to imagine that when I am getting ready for work in the morning, I am magically transformed from glowering ork to ethereal Galadriel – so terrifying and mesmerizing I am, in all of my splendour.

ONE LIPSTICK TO RULE THEM ALL.

Uh.

Reign it in there lady, reign it in.

But serious, if you were to look in my purse at any given time, I can guarantee that you would find on average three different lip products, of varying degrees of red (I like blue undertones the most – nothing too orangey or brown because GALADRIEL DOESN’T MESS WITH THAT STUFF.)

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And I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coming attractions.

I love Jean Reno.

Is that weird?

It might be a little weird.

But seeing as though I cannot properly answer this question, if you lovely people could weigh-in, provide your two cents, opine on the subject, etc., etc., it would be much appreciated.

But I really love him.

Like, a lot.

Playing dress-up.

One of my favourite books of all time is The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi. I could wax long and eloquent FOR YEARS about why this is one of the most brilliant and beautiful stories I have ever read – so while that post percolates away in the recesses of my brain, take my word for it when I say that you must read it IMMEDIATELY.

One of the characters Eva is always waltzing about her East London flat in these amazing maxi dresses, so when I saw this piece the other day, my immediate reaction was:

BUY IT! PRETEND TO BE EVA!

BUY IT AND THROW GLAMOUROUS EAST LONDON PARTIES!

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I mean, I would probably have to procure some headscarves, and maybe a couple of pairs of over-sized earrings to really pull off the entire ensemble, but I think that owning this dress is definitely a step in the right direction.

I’ll let you know if I take the plunge.

So there you have it beauty cats!

Are any of you planning on catching any of the Bard this summer? And what makeup (if any) turns you in a battle prepped warrior?

Do let me know – because after all, we’re in this good fight together.

Maybe she’s born with it

So I went to Joe Fresh yesterday to see if they had any quality, affordable sweaters that would help protect me from the freezing rain and harsh winds that are currently ravaging our fair city, and well, me.

These two weather-based phenomena have been the chief culprits behind the transformation of what is normally a rather rainy, temperate rainforest into an unforgiving, frozen wasteland.

I mean, we’re not exactly talking L.A. in T2 here (not by any stretch of the imagination), but seriously dudes, it’s cold.

And while there weren’t any swell sweater deals to be found, I did however make a different discovery.

Ch-ch-ch-check out that styling. Are you seeing this Vogue?

It’s seems as though Mr. Fresh (and his affiliates) are not just purveyors of clothing for budget-minded people –they also sell cosmetics, (rather decent ones at that) and as such, I was able to pick up three nail polishes (for 10 dollars!) and a new red lipstick (for six).

This made me very happy.

Now, for those of you who don’t know me, I am a lipstick kind of gal.

I don’t wear eye shadows or liners, bronzer, or lip gloss.

Sure, I wear mascara, and I love blush, and I’ll pull out the concealer when I have bags the size of China, or a zit that is threatening to take over the world – but lipstick?

Well, lipstick, and lipstick only – that’s my bag baby.

For the past two years I had it down to a pretty solid science: I owned three different colours, from three different brands, and depending on my mood, I would chose from one of the following:

–       A fierce, fluorescent pink, by Rimmel London

New year, new red.

–       A sensuous, lavender-pink, by MAC

–       A dark, wine stain-red, by Revlon

And then of course, sometime in the last month I up and lost my red, and I was devastated, and because I am currently living at 123 Frugal House, Frugal Lane, Frugal, BC, Canada, I refused to bone up the clams (yes I realized that is a horrible mixed money metaphor) to replace it.

For me, there is just something so effortlessly awesome about red lipstick. It immediately puts me in a good mood, and makes whatever I may be wearing seem one hundred times more glamorous.

It’s like playing dress up without having to find a cape and flying goggles.

I also tend to get a lot of really awesome feedback whenever I wear it, which is lovely, but hands down the most common reaction I get, again and again, is an admission from the complimenter.

I cannot even being to count the number of times someone has told me that they don’t believe they could ever wear it (red lipstick) themselves.

They’ll always be all: “But you can pull off that kind of stuff! But there is no way I could never do it myself!”

Um…what?

Who told you this? And whatever reason did you have to believe them?

Right here and now I would like to end this pervasive, persistent and completely untrue assumption that the majority of women (or men) cannot pull off this particular piece of macquillage.

Anyone who wants to wear this can, and do so swimmingly, as long as they have one thing:

LIPS.

Got lips? Perfect – we’re good to go.

Nymeria just doesn't understand. She says go for it! Or you know, I'm exhausted and feed me.

Now, for the sake of covering all my bases, let it be known that I understand the difference between not being interested in wearing a product and believing that you are somehow physically incapable of either 1.) wearing said product because 2.) wearing said product while somehow trigger hordes of petrified individuals running away in the opposite direction should they have the misfortune of setting eyes on you, again, wearing said product.

(I promise I will never say wearing said product ever again.)

(Or at least in this post.)

Did any of that make any sense?

The nub and gist of what I am trying to communicate here, is that it makes my heart really heavy when I encounter so many beautiful, brilliant women, of all ages, who live their lives (fashion, or otherwise)  according to some kind of code that dictates what they are, and are not, capable of.

When I go shopping with friends I often find myself persuading them to try on things I believe would look marvellous on them, especially if they are particularly reticent (ie. they write off) an entire style of clothing.

I of course am not immune to this way of thinking either. Surprisingly enough, the majority of times I have found myself really moving outside of my comfort zone (we are talking like, to the Russian Taiga here) have been with M.

(The man every so often has some powerful fashion aces up his sleeve.)

Mr. M aka fashion plate extraordinaire. Are you seeing this Vogue?

But I do truly believe in taking risks.

Even if it – the risk (be it a dress, a lipstick, a relationship, a road less taken, etc.) ends up not working exactly the way you imagined, isn’t it always better to have tried?

Isn’t this how we learn, and become stronger, and ultimately, become braver? Which in turn, allows for greater and more rewarding risk-taking and self-fulfilment?

Isn’t this some awesome feedback loop we should focus on, not move away from?

Is this not how we should truly be getting to know ourselves?

My experience (as limited as it has been) has shown me that at the root of it all, this is how we truly find out what works, for us and what doesn’t.

Not from some silly code.

Fear of being judged, or looking silly may dictate the parameters of what we think is best for us at the beginning (of our relationships with certain looks, people, ideas, etc.) – but they don’t need to control them forever.

We just need to remember that variety is both an entertainment magazine, but more importantly, the spice of life.

One last note on my recent makeup purchases.

M says that this photo reminds him on a serial killer. We have been watching a lot of Dexter lately.

Does this colour of nail polish make me look like I’ve set up shop in the morgue, as you know, a resident?

Because as much as I really love this shade of blue, I’m kind of sold on the fact that it makes me look like a very dead (albeit very stylish) corpse.

And yet, just having written out these words, I sit here thinking whether or not my assessment of whether or not  this nail polish is working or not is viable, or skewed – are my preconceived notions of what looks good next to my (rather translucent skin) wrecking havoc with my assessment of the situation?

Heck, if I want to wear blue nail polish, I’ll find a way to make it work.

Yet between my red lips, white skin, and blue fingernails, I don’t know if I’m a fashion statement, or a political symbol.

Liberte, egalite, and Mme. Estee?