The Lipstick Page Forums Beauty Blog: July 2005 Things I am obsessed with... (7.29.05) Posted by Dain, Sunday, July 31, 2005 6:11 PM (Eastern) COSMETICS Images de Parfums: A compilation of perfume ads, mostly in French (I think you can switch the site to work in English). It's wonderful to peruse, a combination of commercialism and art, and all the different permutations of beautiful faces, sexually suggestive (and some not even suggestive) poses, and pictures of bottles that the invention of advertisers can imagine. Some of the advertisements are truly spectacular, some funny, and some... just odd. It's great fun. Above: the gorgeous Isabella Rosselini for Lancôme. Serge Lutens: Slowly, but surely, I'm working my way across the rainbow of Serge Lutens fragrances. They are strange, but magnificent. I'm sniffing Tubéreuse Criminelle as we speak, and it is a strange thing--mentholated, the "strange rubbery heart of tuberose", and that scene from The Magic Mountain. Guerlain Les Metéorites and MAC Angel Blush: Lately, I've worn a lot of the combination of a good moisturizer (Dr. Hausand a pressed powder, Chanel's Poudre Universelle. A great compact, silky powder, but for fatigued mornings, the magic of Guerlain, perhaps, might be even more apt. As for the Angel, I don't know... maybe it's the summer, when I wear less makeup, but it seems right just to glow and not to blush. READING The Gormenghast Saga, by Mervyn Peake: Mervyn Peake is classic fantasy, as classic as Tolkein, though not so well known. It is the perfect antidote for the good-evil polarity / the human character in context of the determinations of destiny / hopefulness / gentle, sportive, humanistic attitude of Harry Potter. Which is to say, Gormenghast is bleak, without any solid belief in human potential, so satirical and keen and queer, and utterly confused as to what makes a hero and what makes a villain. It's wonderful, truly. Peake is foremost an artist (if it weren't for Gormenghast, he'd be better known as an illustrator and minor poet), so his interest is in characterization and landscape, not plot (by the end of the first book, the titular hero, Titus Groan, is only two years old). They are the oddest fantasy books you'll ever read, but immense food for thought, even despite the Dickensian cumbersomeness. (I want to see the movie now.) Left: the cover of Gormenghast, the Overlook edition, which contains all three books and many critical essays. Ovid's Metamorphoses, translated by Charles Martin: I have a longtime fondness for Ovid--him and Vergil and Lucretius and Catullus. They affirm my belief that Latin is the most elegant, the most refined, of languages (regardless of what the French believe). Martin's translation is masterly, by which I mean, perfectly suited for the modern reader, and in a colloquial manner well suited to Ovid's poetry. I like the choice of meter, too; a fluid, but sturdy blank verse. HEARING See below: Summer music. And add Hendrix's "Come On (Let the Good Times Roll)", a song which, I think, was written by God. It's from Electric Ladyland, and it is a lesson in virtuousity with the electric guitar. And it uses the word "doit". I wasn't aware that anyone used "doit" except Shakespeare. : ) Right: the cover of Electric Ladyland. WATCHING La Pianiste: The Piano Teacher, a French film about an intensely suppressed master of the piano, rapidly approaching spinsterhood. It's gorgeously shot, somehow at odds with with the disturbing elements of the film. And disturbing it certainly is, for the piano teacher harbors some intense sexual perversions, sucking an attractive young man into her games--but in the end, the greatest perversion is fatally universal, how we are jealous of our pride and the extent to which we try control ourselves and those around us, at the expense of every other natural feeling. It freaked me out, but it's a good movie. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: A classic Miyazaki about the courage of a brave princess from a peaceful and tranquil valley, in a post-apocalyptic period when human beings have polluted the earth to toxic levels. Even despite this chastening, the nations of the earth are proud and warlike, and Nausicaä's beloved valley is caught in the crossfire. And of course, it is up to her to save the day. From the master who brought you Spirited Away (which I only thought was ok) and Princess Mononoke (which I thought was glorious), it's beautiful enough to bring tears to your eyes. Left: a scene from Nausicaä. EATING vegetable soup: Lightly caramelize shallots and garlic in olive oil, then add water to boil, into which you add: coarsely chopped celery (leek works too, I've found), parsley, and a sprig of mint (or any strong herb, you may decide on basil or rosemary or tarragon instead). For a little vegetable sweetness, add carrots or canned corn. For a heartier soup, add some starch; potato works, though I prefer an interesting pasta (this should be added last, and cooked to before al dente, lest it become soggy, though that's inevitable). I really do prefer it without pasta, though. Salt and pepper to taste. freshly baked bread: Hell, nothing beats it. It takes a while to get the timings of the risings, the vigorousness with which one kneads, and the amount of salt and yeast, correct, but once you do... it's like heaven. Greek yogurt: Not everyone likes the strong yeast-y flavor, and some even find it repulsive, but I adore it. I find many flavored American yogurts disappointingly mild and oversweetened. I like my thick-as-paste Greek yogurt with a little honey for flavor and sweetness. And it's good for you. creamed clover honey: It's, as the name applies, creamier than regular honey. It's smoother, less sweet (somehow it tastes that way), and with a less pronounced flavor. Delightful on piping hot fresh bread. WEARING Ready-to-Wear Fall/Winter 2005: Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche (the line that sets the trends this season), and Rochas (gorgeous fantasy wear). Neither of which I would really... wear, even if I could afford the prices. But they're amazing. Otherwise, Derek Lam and Lanvin are much more my cup of tea. Right: a look from YSL, black velvet lined with exquisite hand-made lace, over a sheath of citron-gold brocade. Couture: Christian Lacroix for pure invention, Chanel for quirky but classic pieces, Armani Privé for simple, pure, aesthetics (though not in my interest). And otherwise? I don't know, because there are no stock industry photos in permanent residence as with designer clothes, but Banana Republic is doing some damned interesting things with lace (including, of all things, a pencil skirt! A clear YSL influence) and that Bloomsbury collection is just gorgeous! Images courtesy of www.amazon.com, perso.wanadoo.fr, and www.nausicaa.net. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Maybelline Moisture Extreme Lipcolor Posted by Dain, Saturday, July 30, 2005 9:48 PM (Eastern) Maybelline has reformulated its classic lipstick, Moisture Whip, and replaced it with Moisture Extreme. From what I briefly tested, the quality is better, the packaging snazzier, the pigment richer, but beyond that, I cannot say. Many of the most popular shades have been retained, including: Sugar Plum Ice Metallic Mauve Softly Mauve Windsor Rose Misty Lilac Roseberry Truly Mauve Silver Plum Crushed Cranberry Strawberry Cream Peach Mocha Mango Tango Cool Watermelon Wine and Roses Sweet Honey Toasted Almond Real Raisin Far East Fuschia Goldlights Silver Sand Earthly Taupe Mocha Ice Sugared Bronze Rum Raisin Sunlit Bronze Coffee Glaze Plum Motion Velvet Crush Cherry Brown Rare Ruby Go Currant Some old shades have new names: Iced Mauve is now Pink Bloom Electric Orchid is now Wine on Ice Plum Delish is now Plum Wine Plushed Plum is now Plum Crazy Peachy Sheen is now Rosy Glow Dusty Rose is now Nude Blush Classic Red is now Royal Red Pink Topaz is now Red Dawn Creamy Mocha and Mochaccino are now Plum Sable And some entirely new shades: True Pink That's Mauvie Desert Bloom Petal Happy shopping! 0 Comment(s)    Email this post A craving for something new... Posted by Dain, Friday, July 29, 2005 11:15 PM (Eastern) We are suffering from a surfeit of sheer, glossy lip things. Yes, I understand the reasons for the phenomenon (see Diagnosis of a Trend: Sheer Makeup for more of an explicative meditation); it's easy to apply, easy to choose colors, and looks good, easily. I, too, love sheer lipsticks (though I prefer more pigment in my glosses, oddly enough). Well! Enough with this laziness. For the fall, in total disregard to trends (not that I think makeup trends are worth the following, even less so than fashion trends), I'm going back to the full-coverage look. Is it too soon to bring back the Nineties as retro? Maybe. But I'm craving something different from the endless cavalcade of sorbet things. It's much like five years of nothing but chiffon; one does like a little tweed and velvet to add some flavor and diversity to life. Top candidates: Rimmel 1000 Kisses Stay On Lip Pencil in Wild Clover: It's supercheap, darlings. It won't hurt to try. A very pretty rose matte—lipstick that looks like lipstick! (Imagine!) For a more neutral shade (i.e. browner), check out the shade Tiramisu instead. It's creamy enough to shade in lips with ease, but try a dab of lip balm (just the smallest dab) if need be. Bobbi Brown Raisin Lipstick: A classic. Pigment, neutrality, and depth. Raisin is Plum's sober sister, the reserved cousin of Red, and the grown-up ladylike version of Rose. And She is perfect for fall. NARS Lip Stain Gloss in Daredevil: It is... sort of sheer. In that it is a stain. But it's as strong as gin, a richesse of pigment that has been banished for years. A perfect red rose (pink-undertoned, and just a little blue) color, that's both tenacious and weightless (dry, even). The problem with red lipstick is that as it wears, it looks funny (a sheer color that wears off isn't particularly noticeable). Pure color in as little product as possible. And it's mine, thanks to my dear friend C.! Dior Addict Plastic Gloss in Fantastic Fuschia 894: A heart-stopping, vibrant fuschia. Not a color that flirts and teases, it is the 80s Hall & Oates song, "Man Eater", in cosmetic form. Super-glossy (there's only a ban on sheer, not gloss) and pigment-intense, it's a bold move. And what of... Red Haute? Alas, nothing can replace Red Haute, and it will remain my favorite lipstick. But... that doesn't mean that a girl can't love others. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post New feature! Posted by Dain, 8:59 PM (Eastern) Now you can add comments to our LP blogs. Enjoy! 1 Comment(s)    Email this post Kevyn Aucoin Posted by Dain, Thursday, July 28, 2005 10:03 PM (Eastern) Perhaps no makeup artist is as celebrated as Kevyn Aucoin. Along with Bobbi Brown, he is the other major figure of the Nineties. His list of clients is the a-list itself, from Gwyneth Paltrow to Tina Turner to Audrey Hepburn to Britney Spears. Even more uniquely (at least, among makeup artists, being background people by definition), Kevyn was no less famous himself. Perhaps because he found beauty in everyone, and consequently everyone else found beauty in him. As to that, I can only shrug. Having not known him myself, the accolades of the rich and famous... well, they mean little. Kevyn was a makeup artist of consummate virtuousity. He transcended such limitations as gender, style, genre, time (both in the sense of "time period" and "age"), and even god-given genetics. Limitations, surely, that prove insurmountable even to most professional makeup artists. He could transform a man into a woman, contemporary celebrities into long-gone figures, normally fresh-faced ingenues into smouldering sirens, ordinary woman into supermodels with sculpted features. And back again. It certainly takes an artist of surpassing skill to disregard the otherwise immutable features of a woman's (or a man's) face. But, for all that, Kevyn's work remained the stuff of glossy magazines, not real life. And while he may have been la crème de la crème among celebrity makeup artists, his influence is not particularly pronounced either in the industry or in consumer habits. Perhaps such influence is subtler than we might imagine. Perhaps not. There are, I think, several reasons for this. Firstly, Kevyn was a master of fantasy makeup. That alone is sufficient to pull one out of real-world influence. Kevyn was capable of transforming women across time and space. Miraculous, yes, but what would be the use of doing so, for the rest of us mortals? Most women don't traffic with high-fantasy makeup in their day-to-day existence—which is to say, they don't want to actually look like Barbara Streisand, or a man, or... err... a mascara-smeared, sparkle-skinned Gwyneth Paltrow. It would be the cosmetic equivalent of living in the world of The Lord of the Rings, speaking in the language of The King James Bible. Sure, they might inject some colorful eyeshadow or red lipstick into the normal order of things, but not usually with the intent to make themselves look like someone other than themselves. Complete transformation is an amazing thing, but... would you really want to look like someone else? What is wrong with the real you, pray? Of course, Kevyn did work his magic on ordinary women (besides his celebrity friends and family members), but it was still always with a sense of fantasy. Great faces to look at, but... hard to live in. Another detractor was his infamously heavy hand. Kevyn, of course, was well aware of the criticism. I think it is to his credit that he didn't seem to care. There is an anecdote, in one of his books (A Beautiful Life, I think), in which Kevyn is working on Kate Moss, and he declares, "Now I'm going to give Kate a really natural look. I'm going to use the minimum possible makeup..." (something like that). He then proceeds to slather on greasepaint with abandon. Both Kevyn and Kate burst out laughing. And you know what? He's right. When the medium is the runway and film, then what matters the amount of makeup? The camera is much more critical than the human eye, and the lighting is harsh and unforgiving. The technique for film is very different from real-world makeup. His very ability to transform a woman's face depended on his ability to obliterate it first. Cindy Crawford reminisces (again, I forget which book) that "Kevyn first erased the face, and then he literally drew it back on. Kevyn's makeup was a mask, a beautiful mask." Amazing, but not very practical. It takes skill, and time, and vast quantities of product (including, among other things, contour powder, face tapes, spirit gum, and so on...). One cannot traipse the streets in layers of greasepaint and pancake without looking a bit overdone. Making Faces indeed; natural makeup, it isn't. And yet another. His expertise was superlative, his vision, sublime, but where is the innovation? I can think of a few, vaguely, but mostly they were in line with the trends that many other makeup artists were employing at the time. He has certainly left a mark, but somehow, it seems more the responsibility of his celebrity fan-club than through reaching out to the average woman. It is my humble opinion that Kevyn was more the exemplar of a zeitgeist than a trend-setter. Some of the favorites I remember: Cream foundation, used selectively, more as concealer than foundation? Kevyn used a now-discontinued Dior foundation; many others were fans of Shu Uemura's Nobara Foundation. His own Sensual Skin Enhancer is a great example of such a product, par excellence. It is concentrated pigment, in a dazzling array of skintones. Benetint: A sheer reddish liquid that spawned a gazillion knockoffs, in myriad formulations. Smells like roses, because it mimicks the color of red roses squeezed (once tried this, just to see if it was so) and of blood naturally rushing to the skin, both. The story has it, it was created for strippers to tint their nipples a flattering hue. Kevyn applied this universally (indeed, it is quite a universal color), but not just on the cheeks, on the temples and chin, too. He contested it was a far more natural and flattering flush, and I agree—that is the most natural way to apply blush. To this day, I do the same, unconsciously. Prescriptives Softlining Pencil in Fig: This is so spot-on. A shimmery violet-charcoal as liner. I don't think anyone pushed this color before he did. It is the perfect shade of eyeliner, that dusky violet that shimmers. Now, there are gazillions of them, from MAC Prunella Eye Kohl to Stila Poise. There is a reason why Bobbi Brown's much-lauded Gel Liners' bestseller is Violet Ink. Some variations are more purple-black, some, more violet-grey. Some have pink shimmer, some gold, some red, some silver. The principle remains the same: violet-grey is the natural color of shadow on the skin. The color of undereye circles, and even of physical shadows. Not black (which is harsh, and skin is a mixture of colors, not black and white), not grey (again, there is a great deal of color in the skin, though grey is softer), not brown (natural enough in color, but not of shadow, but rather, increased melanin concentration, so a very different sort of natural). It looks good on everyone; not like "color", in the traditional sense, but a sort of super-flattering definition. It is not a color that clashes with anyone's eyes, and indeed enhances most eye colors. blood red lipstick: In a time of the pink-brown lipstick hegemony of Bobbi Brown, I am, simply, thankful to see that Kevyn kept the torch of red lipstick alive (though it is now in danger of being submerged under endless hordes of fruity glosses). He was always a champion of red lipstick, and with good reason. It is classic. white shimmer liquid highlight: Kevyn was a big fan of a Make Up For Ever Aquarelle (I don't know if it's still available), in a simple white frost. He used it to highlight. I don't use such things, so I can't attest to the effect, but I suspect Pat McGrath's fanaticism for sheer highlighters can at least be partly attributed to Kevyn's devotion to the MUFE original. His own line has a version. taupe shimmer shadow: Seems sorta basic, yeah? Kevyn favored Sweet Dreams, by Vincent Longo. (I like NARS Ashes to Ashes or Shu Uemura ME Silver 945.) It softens black eyeliner for a smoky look, smolders in the crease, and can cavort innocently (sheerly) on the lid for a little depth. It is something that works easily without much effort. The teleogy is the same. Kevyn was famous for celebrating women, for seeing them as beautiful—as they were, and as they could be. A great artist, and his work will be missed. RIP. sources: Picture courtesy www.kevynaucoin.com. Quotes paraphrased from A Beautiful Life (I think). For examples of his work, I suggest his book, Making Faces. There are others, but that is his best, I think. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Manolo's Shoe Blog Posted by Dain, Wednesday, July 27, 2005 8:17 PM (Eastern) Among the surfeit of fashion blogs out there in the internet universe, some rise to significance and glory, a rare feat given the 10 million blogs that are currently competing for hits (according to... something). Manolo's Shoe Blog is one. Written with an meticulously tempered sense of humor, in very Mao-ish syntax (but otherwise very correct English), this blog is just hits the right notes. This is not, of course, the real Manolo Blahnik. Nor is it quite my taste in shoes (mine inclines much more to the fanciful than the classical), but Manolo's judgements are without fault nevertheless. Visit it. It's hilarious. There's a post on The Crocs (under "Horrors") that made me laugh unto stitches: "Manolo says, exactly. They are the same shoe!" 0 Comment(s)    Email this post What's in a name? Posted by Dain, Tuesday, July 26, 2005 2:23 AM (Eastern) I was writing a review of Guerlain's Samsara, created in 1989 by Jean Paul Guerlain, and I wrote: "It is a great name, from the Sanskrit word for the relentless and illusory cycle of life, from which one desires liberation, or moksha—an idea first developed during the Upanishadic period. (source: my Intro to World Religions class.) Which makes me think that the name, though it sounds well, is the result of careless and ignorant naming. Samsara is undesirable in Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism, so it's kind of funny to name it after a glamourous perfume. A snooty French man must have thought himself very clever to come up with this name. : )" So, out of curiosity, I looked up what the offical Guerlain stance is on Samsara. In Sanskrit, Samsara means the eternal cycle of life. It is an imaginary place, sacred and mysterious, where the Orient and Occident meet. Samsara is the symbol of harmony, of absolute osmosis between a woman and her perfume. It is a spiritual journey leading to serenity and inner contemplation. The bottle, in the sacred red of the Orient, echoes the figure of a Khmer dancer in the Musée Guimet in Paris, her hands folded in a gesture of offering, expressing plentitude and femininity. The stopper evokes the eye of Buddha, a symbol of meditation that leads to detachment and supreme enlightenment. Uh. No. That is categorically wrong. The only thing Guerlain has right is that samsara means the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. It certainly has nothing to do with the meeting place of East and West. "Most of these traditions, in their evolved forms, regard samsara negatively, as a fallen condition which is to be escaped" (source: Wikipedia). And osmosis (on a different note) is the process in which molecules passively diffuse across a membrane. You can use it in a metaphor, such as, "learning by osmosis", which means that knowledge is acquired through no effort of one's own, but... it has nothing to do with sillage. Really! Isn't that silly? It's a total load of crock from start to finish. Not that there's anything wrong with wearing it, copy or no copy, if you like the scent (the consummate floriental), but it's amazing what companies try to pull sometimes. I've given my bottle away. I have horrors over ylang ylang anyway. Image from http://perso.wanadoo.fr/imagesdeparfums/. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post L'Artisan Parfumeur Posted by Dain, Monday, July 25, 2005 7:51 PM (Eastern) L'Artisan Parfumeur deserves a place in the history of perfume. It is responsible for popularizing the "niche" perfume house, as it manifests today. Guerlain, Creed, Caron, none of these are "niche"—they began as caterers to the rich and nobly titled, and in any case, are "prestige" brands today regardless of origin. I should preface this by saying that L'Artisan does not generally smell good on me; there is a strange thing they do on my skin that I cannot fathom. Méchant Loup is likely the only one I would purchase. But they're ingeniously designed, with a very modern lightness and its trick of using novel "gourmand" notes (L'Artisan was the first to use coffee, for example), without losing any complexity. I've had the opportunity to sniff a handful of the famousest ones, mostly by Olivia Giacobetti. These include: Premier Figuier, Mûre et Musc, Voleur de Roses, Méchant Loup, and Tea for Two. Fabulous names, are they not? Even disregarding that most everything sounds better in French—Wicked Wolf and Rose Thief are just delicious names. I'll start with Mûre et Musc, which at any rate is the oldest of these five, created in 1972 (www.basenotes.com as reference). It is a gorgeous but simple thing of blackberry and musk (as the name implies), with the juicy citron-y tartness of blackberry soon settling into a white musk, mysterious as twilight, but clean as soap, with just accents of dark fruit. It straddles the masculine/feminine line with superb ease, and would smell equally wonderful on both men and women. It's not a fruity thing, in truth, a more accurate title would have been Musc et Mûre, but perhaps that doesn't sound as well. It is balanced with something dry and earthy, patchouli, I think, and perhaps vetiver. On a man, it would smell like an immensely enlightened cologne, on a woman, it would smell elegant but laidback. It is simplistic, but with enough to balance to avoid a monotone effect. Wear it to the office, and it is wholly appropriate, even as it avoids the bland. And as you catch whiffs throughout the day, it will lift your spirits and you will stand a little straighter, as if under the unconscious influence of something glorious. Premier Figuier is an interesting thing—the whole fig tree, not just its fruit. You can smell the plant in its entirety: the milky sweet fruit, the waxy resinous leaves, the sharp green sap, even the date-like sugar brown of dried figs. It is spectacularly luminescent, and wonderfully like the best holiday in the world, as if you were lying in the shade with a good book in Provence, and lo, in the shade of a fig tree, even. This was the inspiration for another Olivia Giacobetti creation, Philosykos by Diptyque, which emphasizes the dry, olivine temperament of the plant, rather than the fruit. Premier Figuier, however, is milky and gentle, glowing with all the intense sunlight of the Mediterranean. If you can't make it to the Côte D'Azur, this is the closest thing to it I can imagine in a bottle. I have rarely smelled anything like Voleur de Roses, and I must admit I am grateful for it. A gorgeous thing, and one that stretches one's conceptions of what a rose perfume might be, but it "turns" disagreeably sour on me, which is mildly tragic. This is not a "white" rose, the powdery high notes of tea rose. It is not a "green" rose, sharp and citrusy, which reminds you that, after all, a rose has thorns. It is not a "golden" rose, delicious and warm and liquid. It is not a "red" rose, which is the classic, fresh, blooming scent—a rare thing that is hard to capture given the prohibitive cost of rose extract. More often, the best you get is a "pink" rose, which is the gorgeousness watered down to merely pretty. Voleur de Roses is a "purple" rose, in which the feminimity of the flower combats the earthy antagonism of patchouli, brought into balance by the lush fruitiness of plum. I am sorry to say, this smells mostly of patchouli on me, with the roses rotting in the vase (if you've ever been lax about changing water for your flowers, or throwing them out when the time comes... you will have a pretty good idea of what I am talking about). Tea for Two is wonderful, though it doesn't connect in the way that merits a purchase. Fine black tea, sweetened with honey, spiced with cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger. The spices are not obtrusive, but merely as an accent to the tea, as if the tea has been spiced, but not the perfume. If you've ever tried Mary Twining Spiced Tea (from Twinings), you'll have a pretty good idea. It retains all the smokiness of black tea, without any of the acidity. And in the background, it is the smell of a wood fire, all blaze and bark and earth. And with all of this, it is still light, by which I mean that its flavors are unmuddied, but transparent, like the amber liquid in your teacup. It is, perhaps, the most perfect example of a comfort scent I have ever encountered, without transgression into the danger zone of becoming too "foody". And finally, my favorite of the five: Méchant Loup. This is meant to be a masculine, but it isn't, as Luca Turin terms it, "hairy chested". It is supremely intelligent, though perhaps not wise. I imagine this is all in line with the famed L'Artisan quality of lucidity. As the name suggests, it is meant to evoke deep forest, but I find it smells more like a romantic notion of a gothic library. At its core is hazelnut, though to my nose it is serves merely as a background; or, as I wrote in my review, "I do smell the hazelnut nuttiness, and the milky, ever-so-slightly spicy (not in the sense that cinnamon is spicy), unctuousness of the hazelnut beckons like a sweet beacon from its heart." Mostly, I smell sandalwood and myrrh, with some honeyed notes for sweetness and the rough earthiness of forest loam to lend it some gothic charm. And lastly something green growing, nothing I can place, not the fresh joy of fresh springtime growth, but an aggression that equals the earthiness. Even if it doesn't smell like a forest thicket—maybe because the myrrh (which is the strongest element to my nose, though it does not, per se, dominate) is a scent sacrosanct (heh. like bibles?), which my mind associates with the hushed reverence of the libraries I study in nine months of the year—it does remind me of a Wicked Wolf. As in my review: "It smells like a lopsided grin. O, the cynism of this perfume! I love it." 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Summer music... Posted by Dain, Friday, July 22, 2005 8:56 PM (Eastern) I admit this is egregiously off topic, but I thought I'd like to share. There are three bands that work exceedingly well in the summer, for one reason or another. Franz Ferdinand: It suits whenever it gets rainy and blue; funny, but the music just sounds Scottish. And it soothes the nerves when you sit dreaming of cooler weather, and the heat and humidity is just too passé. Dave Brubeck: Smooth, mellifluous, easy-going jazz, aye, it never falters. Sultry summer evenings were born for it. Sublime: If Franz Ferdinand sounds Scottish, Sublime sounds Californian. My god, it is the essence of summer in Southern California, before The O.C. mangled it beyond disrepair. There are only two types of people who dislike Sublime: those who dislike reggae, and those who think all the songs sound the same. Otherwise, the lyrics, they are ingenious, and the guitar-ing (which seems to be my primary criterion for judging music) is easy but virtuous. It is the music of summer, of eternal summer, in which toil and turmoil should not be considered seriously. It is also the music of pot, but... well, it is reggae. Mozart's Requiem: Summer, in the gorgeous baroque style (actually, it's so autumnal to be verging on wintry, but sometimes a contrast is more interesting). If you go globe-trotting to fabulous places, switch to this on your iPod as you regard vistas and monuments that stretch one's preconceptions of the word "wonder". It may be a little rough on the histrionics, but that makes it all the more suited to the occasion, no? Why not Beethoven's Symphony in B flat, an ostentatiously summer pastoral? Too obvious, really. The Beethoven, it is too alive, too Romantic. I like the Baroque, it sounds too grand to be sensible on a human scale. Images courtesy www.amazon.com. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Serge Lutens! Posted by Dain, Tuesday, July 19, 2005 6:38 PM (Eastern) Yay! My set of Serge Lutens samples came today, and I'm eager to start sniffing. Such anticipation. But it'll have to wait... till I can smell (stuffed up like heck). [sighs] It seems like an eternity. All 32!! Including the non-export ones that cannot be found in the US!! Well, except for Cédre and Bornéo 1834, which are new for this fall. I'll post some quick 'n' dirty reviews of some the better known L'Artisans as well. Serge Lutens, if you're not acquainted, is considered, along with Frédéric Malle (and possibly L'Artisan), one of the very few lines that are still truly artisanal, in the grand old way of Guerlain, back in the day (before Jean Paul sold to LMVH, which many perfume lovers see as a disaster, not only to the creativity of the line, but to Guerlain's pronouncement that it will avoid such ingredients such as oakmoss and courmarin and birch tar (much to the ruination of classics such as Jicky, Shalimar, Mitsouko, etc.). These are—how else can I express it?—perfumes with a vision, with no regard for such tawdry affairs such as commerce (though they seem to do very well, particularly Serge Lutens, nevertheless.) Anyway, as if that weren't enough, I even got some free samples, including: Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe & Merveilles, ETRO Shaal Nur, Detaille Sheliane, Hermèssence Rose Ikebana, Hermèssence Ambre Narguile, Les Nereides Fleur Poundrée de Musc, Comptoir Sud Pacifique Cool Tropic Palm. Some of which I've been very curious about, too! 0 Comment(s)    Email this post A couple of cheap thrills... Posted by Dain, Monday, July 18, 2005 6:14 PM (Eastern) Well, more than a couple. OPI Nail Envy: Hoping it does its job! I've never had nice nails, so we'll see if this is as profound a miracle worker as it seems to be... Rimmel 1000 Kisses in Pink Clover: Hmm... more a whim than anything else. I wanted something different from the usual sheers and glossies. This is precise, full-coverage, in a flattering YLBB pink-brown... perhaps a little more pink than that, a nice natural rose. For a more neutral, browner shade, check out the equally popular Tiramisu. For lipliner, these have a great smooth texture. L'Oréal Double Extend Mascara: My friend A. adores this mascara, as does Allure. Well, why not? I have thin, sparse lashes... it could do with a little oomph. Carmex: I'm rather fond of this classic... I know the rumors, and it's not the most elegant formula, but... I like it. And I keep losing it (not sure why). Lucky: I like Lucky, it's a very different tone from Vogue, but perhaps that's why I like it. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Illness... Posted by Dain, Sunday, July 17, 2005 3:12 PM (Eastern) This is rather off topic, as they say, but I can't seem to think of anything else right now, as I have the flu. (When it pours...) It's strange to have the flu when it's summer, particularly on muggy days like this. There is less alternation between fevers and chills, but when you have them, it's really queer. Especially chills. There's no way that it's cold enough to be shivering... except, there you are. For my money, there's nothing better than Tylenol. There are cold/flu tablets, for day and night, and the new Cool Burst syrup, though nasty to taste, works wonders. To decongest, Sudafed is the best. I'm also a fan of Nyquil, but it's more knock-you-out medicine. I think a humidifier is a grand thing, too, but rather unnecessary in this humidity. What has to do with beauty? Nothing really, except perhaps in the larger sense of "health and beauty". I can't recommend that you pluck you eyebrows when you're ill. Somehow, the pain is magnified. A bath might help with congestion, but don't do it if you're high fever and severe chills. Better to be dirty than sick. As a side note: I've started updating my posts to include photos, more or less. For a little Picture courtesy drugstore.com. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Balenciaga Cristobal Posted by Dain, 2:19 PM (Eastern) Some fragrances take a while to get to know—e.g. Caron Parfum Sacré (I remained uncertain until I realized it was meant to be applied sparingly). Most others smell ok, pretty, nice, alright... but nothing extraordinary. And some—the rarest of them all—smell glorious from first sniff. Everything about Cristobal is "right", from the beautiful bottle, the price, the name (the exquisite couterier, Cristobal Balenciaga), and, of course, the scent itself. I'm a little surprised, to be honest. Had you laid out a description of notes before me, I'd have said, "Absolutely not." I don't like transparent fruity-florals, à la Escada. But then, none of the fragrances I truly love, the ones that occupy a permanent position in my collection, were obvious choices. At the urging of one who also loves Givenchy Organza Indécence, I was more than willing to try it. It was a surprising mélange of notes to my inexperienced nose, when I first tried it. It smells... wholeheartedly delicious. A mouthwatering confection, though it is more floral than gourmand. And totally unique. It begins with a sort of lemon sugar note, all the tangy citrus of lemon, but no sour sharp bite. Then freesia lifts it from candyland, makes it ethereal, and something tropical enters in, a pineapple note. Then it moves into a peony heart, which is usually the classic floral for prettiness without mystery, and yet there's a very interesting interplay with notes of green figs and plums, honeyed o'er. As it dries down, there's orris and musk, with a little rose singing in the background, with vanilla, sandalwood, and amber following up. And it's important to say... this doesn't smell like a progression of notes appearing and then disappearing... the lower notes unfold just as in any other perfume, but the top notes remain and somehow accommodate the latecomers... it's just extremely well-balanced, albeit sweet and sugary and fruit-laced (if you're against such things...). It's not dark, there's something lighthearted, verging on tropical, just enough to make it festive, but not enough to turn me off. It has more complexity than that, more sophistication, but relaxed. I think a lovely French woman, normally very proper and serious, on vacation in Italy. She normally wears YSL, but she's on vacation, so it's Derek Lam and a judicious dash of Chloé. Perhaps I say Italy because Dolce & Gabbana Sicily smells of lemons, so by olfactory association... though for my money, I'd suggest Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien if you're in the mood for lemons. Otherwise, Cristobal is more Tahiti than Naples. A wedding in Tahiti, no less. Image courtesy http://perso.wanadoo.fr/imagesdeparfums/. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Shaving... Posted by Colleen Shirazi, Saturday, July 16, 2005 3:09 PM (Eastern) Nice to see you back. :) Hummm...I feel rather indifferent about shaving. I lived in San Francisco for ten years, there is a tremendous tourist trade, and when I came out here in the mid-80's, there were still vestiges of the 70's. Then there is Berkeley, which is still Berkeley. I've seen women who don't shave. Then again I've experienced men and women who don't use underarm deodorant, at all, which is more mind-blowing to your average American than the not-shaving thing. I do shave, in deference to our custom. In the back of my mind, I feel it would be worth the money to simply get the stuff lasered off. Why spend the rest of your life shaving? That said, I doubt I'll ever get around to it. I use cheap disposable razors to shave underarms. The secret is to shave but not perfectly. Is anyone going to examine your underarm from half an inch away? It is not likely and it's not worth the potential ingrown hairs. Shave reasonably close but not perfectly smooth, and don't shave every day unless you actually need to shave every day. I "exfoliate" the area with a washcloth, that's about it. Done. Legs, now those are laser-worthy. I use an electric razor here. Again--close but not overly so. Exfoliate with a washcloth. I'm not a big lotion fan but I use lotion here, I get over my lotion laziness... Bikini is another laser-worthy endeavor. I've been using one of those moustache/beard trimmers (the electric razor produced ingrowns). Again--close but not overly close; unless you want to invest in laser treatments, I'm not sure I understand the point of stressing over ingrowns or going through waxes. I just read somewhere that the average laser hair removal session costs $200. I think I would pay the money rather than get my hair ripped out. That is just mho. I suppose my age has something to do with that...I feel cynical whenever the standard of beauty involves pain. I mean, didn't we accept corsets as a standard of beauty before? Didn't the Chinese accept foot-binding? Why do we sneer at these things now, if we're willing to get our hair ripped out? At one point I consciously decided that I was never going to go through anything painful for the sake of beauty, unless it was, say, laser hair removal, which would hurt at least somewhat but would be permanent. shrugs So that would rule out surgery of any kind, waxing, wearing undergarments designed to squeeze you into shape, high heels, all the stuff I went through or contemplated before. As soon as I smell pain, I toss the idea right out of my head...it becomes to me another foot-binding thing. Is that so radical? I think men should wear high heels for one day...one day...before deciding how sexy they are? lol 0 Comment(s)    Email this post The Blog Trend Posted by Dain, Friday, July 15, 2005 4:40 PM (Eastern) Actually, I never thought I'd be writing an article on this, but I am... This is a phenomenon that has been on the rise for only a few months—literate and fashionable women have been setting up blogs. Colleen is far more web-savvy than I, and I pride myself on being a leetle tech, and she hit the nail on the head, long before I did... ohh... two weeks ago. Blogs are the new revolution on the internet. I mean... now even NBC Nightly News anchorman Brian Williams has a blog! (And he mentioned it on Conan O'Brien last night... talk about mainstream!) I've been a long-time blogger. My first post dates from June 2001. In the chronological parlance of the web, that's tantamount to a decade (web time isn't linear, it's exponential). I must have reams of words just piled up... debris from my late teenage years (like I'm so old now, har har). I belong to an older body of bloggers, for whom blogs remain personal journals—and I've never cared to read them, even of those I know well. I write mostly for my own enlightenment and pleasure, and though I realize most people are more guarded, reading their blogs has always smacked unpleasantly of listening in on someone else's conversation for that reason. Not quite an invasion of privacy, but it is rather like that mildy embarrassing moment when you catch someone talking to herself. Plus, few blogs are really worth reading. Democratization of voice equals democratization of everything else, including opinions tasteless, petty, stupid, and poorly written. Nuthin' really wrong with that, in the abstract, but one's got to have her eyes peeled for the diamonds in the rough, a very different process from reading a book or magazine—which are polished, professional pieces with salaried editors to ensure... Well, even then it's not a faultless process, is it? Blogging has turned out to be a brilliant tool for publishing, and easy to use too. You don't need to know HTML, you don't need webspace and FTP capability (they provide), and everything is neatly and automatically catalogued and archived. You can save drafts, and there are comments, too, so there's plenty of room for resentment and fuzzy luv (sorry, eprops give me the creeps). Simple. Neat. Anyone can do it. And if not, people can help. So now, people create blogs with a more narrow focus. It's no longer what's-going-on-in-my-life, but rather I'm-an-amateur-this-'n'-that-and-here's-what-I've-got-to-share! Which is great news, if the blog is deftly written, larded with expertise, and it's a subject you're interested in. Our own LP blogs are fairly new on the scene, and coincide with the explosion of fashion/beauty/etc. blogs that have been proliferated since the beginning of 2005. Unbeknownst to us (to me, at any rate), when I suggested that we publish our "articles/features" in blog format, so as to reduce individual HTML-formatting, which is tedious. Imagine my surprise, when, June 2005, I found a ton of other blogs, much along the same lines (though I've yet to find a good blog about cosmetics, the ones about perfume are many, and very good). Seems like we were but a mote of dust in a huge and rising trend. In any case, I would like to share some of the truly excellent ones I read (I think a couple are MUA-based): Laurelines: art, in the drawing and painting sense Bunnyshop: a fashion blog, not sure why it has that blank space atop, but... there are fashion blogs galore, of course, but this one has a certain (for lack of a better word) style that sort of blows my mind in a I-would-have-never-thought-of-it-myself kind of way Bois de Jasmin: Victoria's extraordinary perfume blog... read it! You'll be addicted, too! Perfume Notes: Luca Turin's blog, recommended for obvious reasons. Guise: Runway reviews in condensed, easy to view form. Asian Leprechaun: Fashion, with impeccable taste, and witty, if caustic, writing. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Bobbi Brown Posted by Dain, Thursday, July 14, 2005 3:11 PM (Eastern) Bobbi Brown is... gosh, who doesn't know who Bobbi Brown is? If I could name any single individual, for sheer influence, in the sense of trend-setting and iconoclastic both, for the whole of the Nineties, it would be Bobbi Brown, bar none. Let us consider, for a moment, the history of make-up, shall we? Cosmetics, until the twentieth century, were considered vulgar, with the exception of such things as "toilet water" (weak cologne) or powder—the domain of actresses, who were considered little better than prostitutes. Victorian attitudes towards cosmetics were not too estranged from attitudes in fashion (as ever, fashion and make-up go hand in hand). Then came an era of aesthetic liberation in the Twenties, at least for females, with looser and more masculine fashions, perfumes in complex composition (modern perfumery as we see it today), and lipstick (either very orange or very purple, a true red dye being as yet unavailable) and kohl-rimmed eyes, and the all-important decades of red lipstick, black mascara, and pancake-makeup of the Thirties, Forties, and Fifties. The Sixties and Seventies (at least the latter half of the former, and the former half of the latter), emphasized further aesthetic liberation, and as far as make-up was concerned, the message was, NOT ANY. A very important period, because it introduced the idea of au naturel, as a conscious style. And then, in the late Seventies and throughout the Eighties, an explosion of cosmetic excess: the proliferation of pigments, the acceptance of "bold" colors, and heavy applications. And then came Bobbi Brown, and the Nineties. It wasn't minimalist makeup, which is more "now", the late Nineties and the early Twenty-First Century (which I believe is moving largely through the direction of the great artist Pat McGrath), but it was... natural. Of course, Bobbi Brown was hardly alone in this, Kevyn Aucoin had a great hand in this as well, but Bobbi Brown marketed it. Indeed, hers was the first of the make-up artist lines, which are de rigueur today, much to the dismay of such giants like Estée Lauder and Lanôme. Second (first being the idea of the "makeup-artist line"), the yellow-based foundation. This was an innovation, though it seems obvious now. Bobbi Brown looked at the color of skin, and thought, "Hmm... it's not really that pink. Yellow tones are more flattering on 90% of skin tones." Now, pink-toned foundations have been banished from the industry, and while many are not as yellow as Bobbi Brown foundations are, they have made good use of the idea. I'll admit this trend has gone a little too far, as there are many who genuinely look better in pink-toned foundations (or own Arabella, for example), and it gets a little more complicated with skin tones other than Caucasion (black skin can be blue-toned, red-toned, yellow-toned, and any variation therein). Indeed, the "Corrector", is pink-toned, for the simple reason that a little pink is better than a lot of yellow for undereye circles (as YSL Touche Eclat so eloquently attests). The first formula was the foundation stick (I think), and it reigns still as its best (pancake-y by modern standards, but it was yellow-based, versatile for foundation and concealer both, and came in a convenient stick). I'm not sure, but the Cream Blush Stick may have been an innovation as well, though there were cream rouges before Bobbi Brown, to be sure. Third, matte neutral colors. Shades of rose, plum, coral, and mauve for lips, muted into neutrality with plenty of brown, in creamy, full-pigment lipsticks (among the ten original shades, Brown and Raisin are still best-sellers). Was there ever a lipstick like Brown, until in 1991 when she debuted the line (consisting of those same ten lipsticks) at Bergdorf's? Furthermore, with shades like these, one didn't have to be blonde-and-blue-eyed to wear makeup, but it could look good on anyone. And it was makeup with a particular woman's beauty in mind, and it was makeup about the woman and not the makeup—a peculiar idea from the red-lipstick-black-mascara-face-powder uniform (one size fits all) from the Fifties, from the no-makeup look of the Sixties, and the color excess of the late Seventies and Eighties. Of course, this eventually extended to eyeshadows (originally, all matte... and largely brown-based) and blushes and non-shimmery lipglosses. Like all trends, the matte brown-based neutrals of Bobbi Brown's classic line (there's even a face that's based on "Classic Bobbi Brown" on the site) began to look dated. Women were demanded fresh color, with the all-important twist (something I attribute to Pat McGrath) of sheerness, often in conjunction with finely-milled shimmer (unlike the coarse frost of the Eighties). And in recognition of demand, Bobbi Brown introduced shimmer and color and sheer elements (Shimmer Wash Eyeshadow, Shimmer Lipgloss, Shimmer Lipstick, Lip Shine, Oil Free Even Finish Compact Foundation, Lip Tint, and the Color Options Line), at varying times with varying degrees of success. These are not bad products, but they are not... stellar or innovative, so not worthy of mention in this line of inquiry. Fourth, great makeup brushes. This is an idea I must also attribute to Bobbi Brown. Now, even drugstore lines have "professional make-up brushes". The "professional" brushes were developed further by Trish McEvoy (better than Bobbi Brown's). It's not really a novel idea; Shu Uemura offered "professional" brushes long before Bobbi Brown ever did, and they are of consummate and exquisite quality (much better than Bobbi Brown's), but Shu Uemura brushes were really truly professional grade, being far too expensive or too precise for the average American woman. Bobbi Brown made "professional" brushes marketable, and approachable. Fifth, writing a book. Books about makeup how-to have been written before, but I will stand by the opinion that Bobbi Brown had sparked a trend, as such. The whole idea of "marketing expertise", from the brushes to the books to the "makeup-artist line" is really her innovation. Sixth, gel eyeliners. Now, every line in the Estée Lauder syndicate (and many outside of it) has a gel eyeliner. It combined the best qualities of all three other eyelining methods: the smooth, easy blendability of pencil, the precision of liquid, the natural look of cake/powder/shadow with a brush. All without the drawbacks—gel eyeliner is easy to use and long-lasting. The best now is MAC's Fluidline, but Bobbi Brown offered it first. Overall, the Bobbi Brown cosmetics line has a great deal to offer, with high-quality products (and the attendant high-quality price) in no-brainer shades and "expert advice". Perhaps no one has done as much to dictate the fashion and tastes of makeup during the Nineties as Bobbi Brown has done, and to that, I can only raise my glass. lines like Bobbi Brown Cosmetics Trish McEvoy: "Pretty" colors, less bullheadedly neutral than Bobbi Brown's colors, and overall, more pigment. Top of the line brushes. I believe the full-face "palette" idea is McEvoy's, fully customizable, travel-worthy, ergonomic. Laura Mercier: Even "prettier" colors (especially the eyeshadows—a clear Stila influence), and more interest in sheers. Famous concealers. Pretty lipsticks (colors of note: Courtisane, Pink Grape, Just Lips, Amethyst). Paula Dorf: Exquisite brushes. The best cream blushes on the market. Sue Devitt: Great, creamy lipsticks in basic colors to work on anyone. Fantastic foundations. LORAC: Celebrity lipsticks. Great, lightweight foundations. Pretty, well-chosen lip palette. Vincent Longo: The celebrated gel foundation (the first!). Fun and basic eye trios. Lovely lipsticks. References: www.bobbibrowncosmetics.com (just to get some dates right; picture also from site) 0 Comment(s)    Email this post I was in a rather pissy mood... Posted by Dain, Wednesday, July 13, 2005 12:35 AM (Eastern) But who wouldn't be irritated at the notion that she had to shave my underarms... again. God... I HATE doing it, it's painful and useless, when it only grows makes a rough, stubborn stubble in two days. And yet, I'll continue to do it (or wax, which I prefer, since once every four weeks is far more tolerable than twice a week), because it is unthinkable to have hairy underarms. It doesn't matter how intellectually enlightened and socially above-it-all I get, no amount of wisdom is sufficient to remove the inveterate belief that it's gross. This is obviously not a natural gut reaction, but a social obligation that has been forced upon me, without obtaining any permission on my part. I'm a grumpy girl. But tell me honestly, don't you just feel the same? Shaving is a just bitch. Not all the bronzed legs of Venus girls frisking in the surf (in slightly asymmetrical formation, no less) can change the sheer unpleasantness of the task—you are grooming a naked-enough animal into a hairless freak. But... I am an optimist. As far as I'm concerned, beauty and grooming are about celebrating your divine if not immortal soul, and not being a slave to negative self-conceptions. Boo to frustrations over shaving. I won't change my habits, as I've noted, but there's no need to turn curmudgeon over it. It's just... hair. No cosmetic in the world can cover you, however hard they try—for good or for ill. And I say, it's a good thing it cannot. Underarm hair is the least part of who you are. Joe Walsh's great 1970s song, "Life's Been Good to Me So Far" I have a mansion, forget the price Ain't never been there they tell me it's nice I live in hotels, tear out the walls I have accountants pay for it all They say I'm crazy, but I have a good time (Everybody say oh, yeah...Oh, yeah) I'm just looking for clues at the scene of the crime Life's been good to me so far My Maserati does one-eighty-five I lost my license, now I don't drive I have a limo, ride in the back I lock the doors in case I'm attacked I make hit records, my fans they can't wait They write me letters, tell me I'm great So I got me an office, gold records on the wall Just leave a message, maybe I'll call Lucky I'm sane after all I've been through (Everybody say I'm cool...He's cool) I can't complain but sometimes I still do Life's been good to me so far I go to parties, sometimes until four It's hard to leave when you can't find the door It's tough to handle this fortune and fame Everybody's so different, I haven't changed They say I'm lazy but I have a good time (Everybody say oh, yeah...Oh, yeah) I keep on going guess I'll never know why Life's been good to me so far For more information on the history of underarm hair, check out this page. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post The Emperor of Scent, by Chandler Burr Posted by Dain, Tuesday, July 12, 2005 2:06 PM (Eastern) I picked this up yesterday, and after finishing it, I must say, I've quite thoroughly enjoyed it. It strikes a balance between science and art, and now I'm just slavering to get a copy of Dr. Turin's Parfums: Le Guide, which is not available in the US, and is only in French (which isn't a problem, but...) I enjoyed the perfumery bits a bit more, but that makes sense, does it not? The science is perfectly lucid and not over one's head, I should add. My favorite passage was about rot, and how cultures react to it, in a style very dry and witty, which somehow seamlessly segued into a purple fantasy of great compositions of music and perfumes: "Époisses... you smell it about three rooms away, and one that is even more rare and heavenly and makes the Époisses positively spartan by comparison: Soumaintrain, from Bourgogne, specifically from Saint-Florentin, near Auxerre. When they smell that, Americains think, 'Good God!' The Japanese think, 'I must now commit suicide.' The French think, 'Where's the bread?' Why? The quality of decomposition: amines, short-chain aliphatic volatile fatty acids, the typical products of organic decomposition... Look at beer, which is a very interesting cultural product. Beer smells like a burp. Gases from someone's stomach. Lovely. Again, a product of fermentation, which is to say decay. Decay enhances smells and flavors, yet we have a sharp ability to ID decay, because decaying things will kill you. Bacterial and yeast decomposition. Which can give 'I wouldn't touch that in a million years' and, at the same time and in the same culture, mind you, 'I will pay great sums to consume Rodenbach,' which is a miracle of a beer from Belgium. A miraculous powdery apple flavor. Those Rodenbach yeast have an IQ of at least two hundred. Fucking genius yeast... There's a vibrational fifth in esters, you know. I've always thought that esters, fruity, are Mozart. The melon notes—helional, for example—strike me as the watery Debussy harmonies, the fourths. Beethoven in his angrier moments is quinolines, which get in green peppers. Thus Bandit, a dark, angular Beethoven string quartet. There's a lot of perfumery that smells like Philip Glass's minimalism, a deceptive simplicity. Mitsouko I think is pure Brahms, the string sextets, extremely intricate but rather monochrome. Tommy Girl gives you Prokofiev's First Symphony." There are four things that pop into my head. One, I seem to like the taste of decomposition (cheeses, wines, beers, a good strong loaf, my enjoyment of game (confit du canard, is, essentially, decomposed)... and one of my favorite things is plain Greek yogurt, which is yeastfully strong) albeit sweetened. Two, it suddenly makes sense to me, why Guerlain fragrances won't work for me, as much as I appreciate them as the masterpieces they are (not a single one, though I'm eager to try Après L'Ondée, Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit, or Jicky). "Call-girl chic", he calls Guerlain, for "cocottes", in comparison to the Carons, which were for "duchesses". And that explains why the lush perfection of Shalimar, was something I instinctually spilled onto cleavage. Have I done that with any other perfume before? No. Caron Parfum Sacré, I spray very discreetly, slightingly, onto my neck. It seems right, there, as Shalimar seemed right in its opulent vulgarity. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I'm a prissy, austere sort of lady, and the Caron seemed right while the Guerlain didn't. It, somehow, illogically, made sense. And this was after the fact. But then, I love Givenchy, which are more brazen and sexual and certainly more vulgar. I figure it's like the question of the high heel: is it something that confines you, and makes you a slave to feminine strictures, or a force you use of your own will and pleasure? A statement of—"I may be on precarious footing, but NOTHING else about me is!"—if you will? I will, for one, choose the latter, because both Indécence and Hot Couture are indeed as old as the stilletto. A gesture of combative and aggressive intellect and sexuality, on entirely feminine terms. Eh. Both smell delicious... [shrugs] Aesthetics is all about what you like, anyway... hang the theories. Three, wow... I had better get my greedy paws on some of these! On my list to sniff: Guerlain Après L'Ondé (which I am sort of yearning for with a sort of hopeless, unreciprocated adoration), Estée Lauder Beyond Paradise (for men and women both... I've actually sniffed the men's, but was chased off by a predatory SA in Saks who must have sprayed me with everything), Guerlain Mitsouko (for three reasons: Nancy says it reminds her of me without having ever met me in the flesh (compelling enough reason), someone at Perfume Isle described it as "sploosh" from Holes, and Turin admits to Mitsouko as "infinitely chic"), YSL Rive Gauche (and incidentally, Paris, while I'm there, though I'm perfectly satisfied with Parfum Sacré, not being one for roses), Bandit (also something I've smelled before, I like it, but fear it as too strong), Tommy Girl, Chanel (though Chanels are frankly... not good... on me), L'Artisan Dzing! (though L'Artisan turns really funny on me, sour sour sour), Fendi Theorema (recommended to me, already, by an enthusiast of Indécence, who turned me onto Balenciaga Cristobal and Givenchy Hot Couture both), Guerlain Jicky, Joy and Sublime by Jean Patou, Estée Lauder White Linen, Clinique Aromatics Elixer, Gucci Rush (which was the first thing I loved, when I was naïve and seventeen... [wicked grin] I smelled on the tour guide at Amherst College, and was consequently and utterly disenchanted, I no longer wanted Rush or Amherst, and settled on Indécence and Yale instead), Rochas Tocade, and Serge Lutens in general. I should just hunt down a copy of Parfums: Le Guide and end my misery there. I don't expect to like some of them, but want a good draught to sniff, just for education's sake. Four, both Burr and Turin describe Thierry Mugler's Angel as genre-defying, a fearless of offering of powerful notes in unexpected edible-inedible combination. A tour de force. Or, perhaps Turin's own words are best: "a transvestite, a gorgeous blonde with a five o'clock shadow and a wicked laugh". It smells like urine on me. [shrugs] Intensely. Like I have animal piss emanating from my being. It does that on some people (I'll try it again, stubbornly, soon enough). And then, it struck me. Angel was the olfactory equivalent of MAC O lipstick. Uncategorical, brilliant, and sickeningly ugly on a few. Picture courtesy amazon.com. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Vernis à ongles... Posted by Dain, 1:37 AM (Eastern) Some things just don't sound better in French (though most things do). The translation is, simply enough, "nail lacquer" (or "lacquer to nails", to be strictly literal), but it sounds vicious. To my ear, it sounds like "eagle claws in varnish". Which is, I suppose, not too far off ("varnish" is from "vernis"), and "ongle" and "aigle" are similar enough (though probably unrelated). How is this relevant? Not really, except to point out that the French should come up with a better name, so as to avoid connotations avian and predatory. Perhaps it is more fitting, after all. Normally, when we conjure up "nails" in our collective national aesthetic, they are characteristically aggressive and talon-like. At least, nails with character are aggressive and talon-like. Well, I prefer soft ovals for nails, and on the short side (as if I have a choice, being a nail-biter). I think electric blue is hot, but otherwise, I stick to shades of lipstick: pink-tinged beige, lush magenta, soft rose, brilliant coral, classic red, and gothic blackberry (Chanel Vamp). Since I do bite my nails, I'm not much for manicures, but I think an investment or two in a couple of high-quality polishes wouldn't be amiss. For that, I turn to Essie, which I prefer to OPI—fewer gimmicks, and it's a bit more liquid. The famed Ballet Slippers tops my list (a milky sheer pink-nude), but I'll be looking for a Vamp-y shade, and a red too. And if life permits, a creamy raspberry. But 'tis the nude color I'm hankering, because nothing looks better than exquisitely buffed nails, and when your nails are in as bad a condition as mine, a polish that mimics that is better. Picture courtesy www.nailsmag.com. 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Figures and role models, and the nature of cosmetics as an art form... Posted by Dain, Monday, July 11, 2005 11:12 PM (Eastern) Cosmetics, in the narrower sense of make-up products, rather than the general term encompassing skin, hair, body, nails, and fragrance in addition to make-up, has its leading figures, as in any other art. A list of names rolls glibly off the tongue, and even the amateurishly knowledgeable will know most of them, from beauty magazines and department stores: Kevyn Aucoin, Pat McGrath, Stephane Marais, Dick Page, Charlie Green, Collier Strong, Pati Dubroff, Bobbi Brown... the list goes on (which is particularly extensive once one approaches those with "lines"). There are different sorts: some work on runways and fashion spreads, some for celebrities, others still for theater and film (of whom I have zero to no knowledge, but you can probably pick up names from perusing makeup411.com), some for commercial advertisements. Many of them consult for cosmetic companies, oftentimes for their own. Still, despite the near-celebrity status of some, such as Pat McGrath, Bobbi Brown, Jeanine Lobell, and of course, Kevyn Aucoin, make-up is less concerned with its artists than many other arts. Take anything else—literature, music, fashion, painting and sculpture and photography, films—and the question of "who made it" is as important as the art itself (though admittedly a modern obsession, in the academic sense of "after the Renaissance" and not "the Twentieth Century"). I guess cosmetics is closer in line with architecture, which mixes form with function, instead of the more ethereal universe of pure aesthetic. It may seem that the ready simile would be with painting, because both use pigments and brushes and differ only in their respective canvasses, but I think not. The manner with which these two are borne out, are very different. Cosmetics, like, architecture, can never escape the inevitably of function—which is not the same demand as that of money, which no artistic discipline can escape (the inevitable discussion of "high" art versus "commercial" art, though whether they are antagonistic forces or flip-sides of the same coin remains a matter of debate). By "function", I mean, simply enough, "usefulness"—a pragmatic rather than economic regard. As a sort of side-note, I would say that hair-styling has the greatest similitude to sculpture, in that it is less concerned with function. Granted, there is some function involved, in that shampoos must clean, and conditioners must moisturize, but soap cleans, and mayonnaise moisturizes. Styling products, like gel and hairspray, of course, must perform, but the best products do their work invisibly. Simply put, hair styling is about the hair, and how you shape it, not what you use. Which is to say, like sculpture, the essence of hair styling is the quality of the material, and its eventual shape. The tools, which affect both, are primarily of concern to the artist (or the woman blowdrying her hair at home, as it may very well be), but not to the large bulk of museum-goers (or the people who will see your hair). Make-up, in comparison, shows, though some of it is obviously meant not to. As for perfume, it is perhaps most like fine cuisine, a rather facile claim to make. The most obvious reason: both depend heavily on our faculty of smell, as our sense of taste is very rudimentary and 90% of it is actually derived from scent. Secondly, most perfumes, and most dishes, work their magic through a complex mélange of ingredients—or notes, shall we say? Of course, one can have a lone apple, sweet and crisp, or savor the richness of a jasmine soliflore, but it is unlikely that we'd ask for either at a restaurant or department store, and neither require artistry except that of the farmer and distiller. A quails financi$egrave;re or Guerlaine L'Heure Bleue, by contrast, require the handiwork of an artist, and most mortals would be utterly incapable of creating either, though they may replicate them. And by queer happenchance, or perhaps the French are simply very sensitive noses, both cuisine and perfumery are heavily Gallic domains. They thereby absorb some of the inveterate elitism, which is understood as the nation's greatest virtue as far as the French are concerned, and prevails its greatest vice in the eyes of the rest of the world. It is no coincidence that perfume aficionadoes are notorious snobs; an overwhelming preference for "niche" perfumeurs, from Serge Lutens to Frédéric Malle to rare Guerlains to JAR to Caron to Strange Invisible Perfumes, with occasional concessions towards the reputable works of Chanel or Hermès and the rare standouts (again, a very French list). This is not so dissimilar a practice as that of food aficionadoes, who turn their noses up at McDonalds in much the same manner as an amateur perfume fantatic sneers at Paris Hilton EDT. (To which I can only say, notwithstanding that I am a hopeless elitist myself, too much snobbery can come and bite you in the ass. Popularity, mass production, and an eye for commercialistic success are no surefire determinates of unworthiness, however often it may be the case.) And yet another similarity is that while there are star perfumeurs, as there are star chefs, they both work behind the scenes, and people and recipes in either are ferociously guarded. Both cuisine and perfumes require the best of ingredients (which in the case of perfumes, is not necessarily the most natural, as it is with food), and a truly superior sense of what to mix together, and how it evolves in the presence of heat (a kitchen, in the case of food, the warmth of the skin, in the case of perfume). I suppose there are more similarities to be found, but I digress. (To be truthful, I think it could be equally likely that music would be a better pairing, but I know absolutely nothing about music theory, while I do know about food.) Cosmetics, I say again, is like architecture. The aesthetic responsibilities towards the visual, the functional responsibilities towards performance in the real world, and both, to be the best, must last. Cheap makeup disappears all too soon, just as cheap archictecture is flimsy, though sometimes ephemerality is desired as an aesthetic counterpoint (tinted lip balms, for example, or the I.M. Pei's pyramide). Cosmetics, therefore, must be viewed in context, how they perform for people, while many other arts depend simply on whether you like the object in question. It would be ludicrous to ask for the function of a Caravaggio, while one can answer the same question regarding Lancome's Hypnose mascara very simply: lush, defined, separated volume. There is also, I think, a prevailing understanding that cosmetics are superficial, which baffles me. Look at the article that I have written thus far, could it have been written by less than a thinking individual? It may not be one the same intellectual level of Jung or Darwin, but really, what is? Literature alone strives to be a pure marriage of intellect and aesthetic, as a prevailing discipline, though of course they are many in the other disciplines who incorporate both. And yet, no one sneers at Mozart or Vermeer or Scorsese. Some music or art or film is thinkingly done, some instinctually, and in make-up it is much the same... but still, this stigma. Of course, make-up is very different from movie-making, but no more so than painting is from music. It is as if intelligence and a love for cosmetics (or fashion, for that matter) are mutually exclusive. I can only darkly conclude that the reason is because make-up is a feminine interest, though many major make-up artists are male (but overwhelmingly gay). Perfume escapes this dilemma, but men use fragrance as well as women, so the theory holds. In any case, both serve to prohibit a head-on "academic" recognition of important figures and movements in makeup (I will blog on this topic at a later date, but being somewhat of a contentious discussion, intend to do so with more care than usual). Still, despite all the limitations on "cults of personalities", some do exist. Some by virtue of the vast amount of work they do—Pat McGrath, for example, does nearly all of the major fashion shows (and what she does not do, Dick Page does, and what Dick Page does not do, Stephane Marais does), as well as half of the Vogue spreads and consultations for Giorgio Armani and Cover Girl (the latter being very recent, and I'm excited to see what Procter & Gamble will offer soon), others because they have started highly successful product lines (too many to count, I suppose the biggest commercial successes are Stila, by Jeanine Lobell, Bobbi Brown, and NARS, by François Nars, Trish McEvoy, and Laura Mercier), so much so that the more "commercial" (which I think is a misleading term, as very few lines are truly "artisanal"—in fact, only LUSH really pops to mind as one that is both highly successful and true-to-its-roots, but that is skincare) are employing professional make-up artists as creative directors, others still because they have very famous clients (Kevyn Aucoin, of course). What does this all figure? In economic terms, a lot. The current trend in fashion, towards "cult" jeans? It is much like the proliferation of "make-up artist" lines. Bobbi Brown's innovation, yellow-based foundation, single-handedly changed the industry. Nowadays, foundations are unthinkingly yellow-based (though not as yellow as Bobbi Brown's), and pinky peachy things, like YSL's Touche Eclat, resemble nothing so much as dinosaurs, and it puzzles most consumers as to how it could possibly work. To Pat McGrath, I attribute the trend in sheers, which has coincidentally been made possible through innovations in lightweight-silicone technology, but the "sheer" look is truly through her influence. Sheer lipsticks, exquisitely textured eyeshadows (which was once the domain of Dior's shadows alone, and now, the consumer expects them to glide on like silk—something that would really matter most to someone who applies eyeshadow for a living), professional grade brushes (women used to be perfectly happy using dinky sponge-tips and sponges, and now there's a brush for everything), illuminating/highlighting shimmers, etc., etc. But an examination of market trends is I suppose beyond the point. I finally arrive at my original purpose, which is to reflect on the doings, prevailing aesthetics, and influences of the major contemporary make-up artists of today. I cannot be comprehensive, because as far as I know no one has gathered a comprehensive encyclopedia as such (or touched on many of the topics I try to address in these blogs), so it will be a small handful of people I think are worthy of notice (most of whom have been mentioned already)—which I think is better, anyway. I will also include a look at some product lines, in that capacity, for it is not only individuals who influence the industry. This exercise, however, will be rather limited by my youth, so most, if not all, will be very contemporary. Overall, it should be somewhere between a biography and a book review... Without further ado, let us venture forth! 0 Comment(s)    Email this post A thanks... Posted by Dain, 9:56 PM (Eastern) To all who emailed me with enquiries and well-wishes. I am well, and back on track (working on a long, ruminative blog as we speak). I am sincerely gratified by the attentions, and hope to continue to produce many more articles in the years to come—which I suppose is the best way to return my thanks! 0 Comment(s)    Email this post After a hiatus... Posted by Dain, Saturday, July 09, 2005 4:57 PM (Eastern) Some hiatus. I've been gone for some time, yes? My internet was down for a few days, and then I suffered a mishap, which involved rope burn (falling from a swing) and a good portion of my left hand was disabled. Neither of which were particularly serious, but sufficient to prevent me from blogging. Well, I am back, and though my hand is a wee stiff, it shouldn't prove too much difficulty. I'll be bombarding you with blogs galore soon! 0 Comment(s)    Email this post Rants, raves, and musings on all things cosmetic. Profile | Current Blog Site Feed (Atom) Articles This Month ·· Things I am obsessed with... (7.29.05) ·· Maybelline Moisture Extreme Lipcolor ·· A craving for something new... ·· New feature! ·· Kevyn Aucoin ·· Manolo's Shoe Blog ·· What's in a name? ·· L'Artisan Parfumeur ·· Summer music... ·· Serge Lutens! ·· A couple of cheap thrills... ·· Illness... ·· Balenciaga Cristobal ·· Shaving... ·· The Blog Trend ·· Bobbi Brown ·· I was in a rather pissy mood... ·· The Emperor of Scent, by Chandler Burr ·· Vernis à ongles... ·· Figures and role models, and the nature of cosmetics as an art form... ·· A thanks... ·· After a hiatus... Archives TheBroadroom.Net's Beauty Blog (archive) April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 Links Colleen's Adult Acne Blog Fashiontribes Daily