Oh, this is cool. This is from a series of photos on Flickr that look like something Escher would have drawn. I’ve no idea how it was done. Although the photographer explains it, I don’t mind saying it was over my head. Please check out the full Recursive Series here to see a flash slide show.
I may have given the impression in these pages that I’m a devotee of naturalism in all things. That is far from the whole truth. Oh sure, I’ve posted entries about home-made granola (almost the definition of hippie-dippy natural). I write about gardening a lot. I’m kind of a tree hugger, as evidenced by the name of this blog (see link to my page titled “Why Mulberry Jam?”). But I don’t believe in naturalism all the time. How boring that would be! In fact, under certain circumstances I am a big believer in artifice and surface decoration.
Take nail polish, for example. I am almost never without some bright color painted on my toes, and frequently add a complementary color to my fingertips. Since taking up a fairly serious yoga practice in recent years, I spend a good amount of time looking at my own bare feet. This has only encouraged me in my little vice. I don’t go for girly shell pinks or translucent beige, either. I’m more likely to wear a dark red, royal blue or iridescent green. Glancing down to catch a glimpse of something bright just makes me smile.
I realize that I may be sacrificing readers’ respect for me by admitting this. When I was in graduate school many years ago, makeup of any kind was seen as unserious and shallow. Let alone nail polish. I used to indulge furtively on weekends when I thought none of my professors or fellow students would see. After I left school and started working, I expected to find a broader range of opinion about such decoration. But I had to admit to myself that it was often secretaries who had the manicures, while female managers left nails short and unpolished. (It could be that my sample is skewed because I live and work in Washington, which has to be one of the more uptight cities in the nation.)
But I finally decided it was simple insecurity that led many people to avoid the bright fun of a painted digit. Now I say, hang what anyone else thinks. Have fun! I’ve almost become an ambassador of polish. I once took a small bottle of lavender to a friend’s house for a touch-up before a summer rock concert and wound up painting the toes of every woman in the group. One woman (who I would have considered far too serious for that kind of thing) called me later to ask the name of the color so she could find it. And why should women have all the fun with this kind of body-consciousness? I’ve painted the toes of men more than once, and you wouldn’t believe the sheepish delight even some manly hockey-playing types will take in it. For the guys, use a dark blue-black or gunmetal gray color, and it really doesn’t look as odd as it may sound.
My favorite conversion story is my own mother. She happened to be born with club feet, quickly corrected while she was still a baby. The casts she wore as an infant left her with a few toenails permanently creased. She’s always hated her feet, and I can seldom remember her wearing open-toed sandals when I was young. Two summers ago I presented her with a bottle of a soft blush-apricot color and got down on my knees to paint her toes myself. She was thrilled. It was a revelation to see her enjoy her own feet that way. She tells me now that she almost never goes without polish anymore.
What harmless little pleasure would you be enjoying if you didn’t care what other people thought?
On Sunday I dragged my husband out to help me pick out some new eyeglasses. Isn’t there something rather archaic about that word? Eyeglasses. It makes me think of other old-fashioned words like spyglass, looking-glass, hourglass.
Anyway, I went determined to get something more fun and fashionable than my current pair. I have to admit, I am not the kind of woman who naturally looks appealing in glasses. Some females manage the look of “cute girl wearing glasses.” I’ve always been more the sort who looks like the first thing I’m likely to say will be “Ssshhh!” But I have a new haircut now, and I thought I’d try to see if I could shoot for “fashionable woman wearing glasses.” That didn’t seem too ambitious to manage.
I wound up having a great deal of fun trying on pairs in wildly varying styles. Each pair seemed destined for a different kind of life, almost the same feeling I get when trying on a costume or a wig. One pair of cat-eye frames with green curlicue details said, “I go to Rockabilly concerts on the weekends and wear a lot of vintage clothes.” Another more severe pair of black frames declared, “I travel frequently in Europe and I like modern sculpture.” I thought that pair might even speak a little German, if you know what I mean.
The pair I finally ordered made me smile every time I put them on. They are bright red, with broad temple pieces, and are far bolder than anything I expected to select. But somehow they seemed to bring out the fun in me, and they worked well with the new curly blonde bob I’m sporting these days. It amazes me that a little bit of plastic balanced across the nose can enhance or suppress aspects of one’s personality. It strikes me that eyeglass frames are aptly named—they frame not just the lenses but the whole face. I sincerely hope that others will find the new frame appealing, but if not, at least they will amuse me.
What do you think?
Happy new year. Should I have written that with an exclamation point? I don’t know yet—it may not be the kind of year deserving of exclamation points. Let’s hold off until April at least. By then we may be getting a better idea of what kind of animal 2006 is going to be.
Some things to do at the new year:
-Join a gym
-Quit a bad job
-Clean out your closet
-Take a class to learn something new
-Get out of town to go someplace warm
I’ve done all those things is previous years, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be working from the same list this year. This year my list looks like:
-Get a new job
-Continue current workout routine (yoga)
-Stay home and enjoy the empty museums of winter
-Get a new haircut
Wait, did I say get a new haircut? I’ve had the same hair, more or less, for the past twelve years. Long layers below my shoulder blades, with blonde highlights. The hair survived through my strong urge to cut it short and dye it red last August, but that was just August talking. Still, even after the doldrums and humidity of August faded, I just couldn’t get the idea of a shorter haircut out of my head. Long hair seemed so predictable, normal and bo-ring. Short hair was attracting me with the idea of insouciance, energy and irreverence.
Walking around at the shopping mall, every young girl I saw had long hair. Flipping through my fashion magazines, every young actress and model has the same hair these days: long, with layers. Usually blonde. We finally seem to have passed the phase where hair had to be rain-straight, but now everyone seems to want the same wavy locks as Gisele Bundchen, Victoria’s Secret’s most famous model. Now Gisele’s a lovely girl, no doubt about it, but have I mentioned that she’s a good fifteen years younger than I am? I decided I needed to aim for something a leetle bit more sophisticated.
My idols have always been classic film stars, and true to form, the final nail in the coffin of my long hair came from a film. My favorite holiday movie isn’t any of the typical choices. Nothing wrong with “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” or any of that ilk, don’t get me wrong. But I get more Christmas cheer and joy out of watching “The Thin Man” than any other movie set at Christmas time. William Powell and Myrna Loy are Nick and Nora Charles, and nowhere in film does a couple make being married look like so much fun. Myrna Loy makes one of the best entrances in all Hollywood history when she strides into a bar searching for her husband. She’s completely hidden behind a mountain of packages and is being towed along by her feisty terrier, Asta. She proceeds to fall flat on her face. After tremendous commotion as waiters rush over, packages fall to the floor and the dog barks, she sits up in the midst of the chaos with a beaming smile and a charming hat over bobbed brown curls. Adorable!
A drastic haircut is almost never just about the hair. An entire generation of women cut their hair for the first time in the 1920s. Short hair symbolized modernity, a new kind of independence, a fun-loving attitude and overt sex appeal. Nowadays, women still tend to cut long hair short at major milestones like breakups, graduations and job terminations. I’m facing none of those, but I wanted the energy goose that a change can bring. Cutting my hair is a superficial change, but it feels big, especially since my long hair has been a personal signature for many years. I want to use this to tap into some of the Nora-like parts of my personality. I want to emphasize that energy, humor and unflappable attitude, and letting go of the long hair felt like a great way to start.
I'm a writer, healthcare consultant and yoga teacher. My hobbies are cooking, gardening, blogging and books.
