“ah, women. they make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.” // f. nietzsche
ah, there’s nothing quite like the words of a celebrated misogynist/philosopher to finely point the scepter of truth on the very definition of what a woman will endure for the sake of some arbitrary notion of beauty.
i’m talking about a high heel, of course.
there has been nothing i’ve worn that has garnered me more flattery, (from both sexes) – and filled me with such anguish at the very same time. a stiletto is at the very root of what was once my sheer frustration at getting gussied up for an event that requested more from me than my daily uniform of a simple jersey dress and a pair of flats (of any persuasion). i knew the moment i put them on, my night was already at its end. there would be no dancing, there would be no mingling, there would only be a never-ending inner monologue of pain and complaints. i would only get on the dance floor to cross it should i have needed access to the powder room.
i’m not sure why it never dawned on me, that wearing a high heel was not mandatory. there is no protocol that demands that i, as a woman, must wear them. honestly, it was like finding my own eureka moment, bath not required.
and so, as a short girl who never found it necessary to compensate for my lack of height with a pair of sky-highs, should i ever feel the need to get to some sort of higher level, i’ve found that there are more than a few options…
“mirrors should think longer before they reflect.” // j. cocteau
i have an uneasy relationship with mirrors.
of course vanity will forever get the best of me, and most things that give off any whiff of a reflection will get a passing glance. it’s human nature, (i hope), but it’s forever at odds with what my deep-dark-psyche runs on in the hamster wheel of my mind. from the neck up, i’m on reasonable terms with myself – but, it’s a rare and comically sad day when my eyes meet my reflection from the shoulders down. i just don’t have the energy to be that critical with myself anymore, so i’d rather just make-believe that certain parts of me don’t exist, unless they’re covered by some sweet threads.
let’s not delve too deeply into this, or take it too seriously, otherwise i’d end up paying you an hourly fee, and not some professional on a bi-weekly basis. i do adore a good mirror though – how else would i peer so deeply into my own eyes, and get that cat-flick so perfectly feline every time?
“taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second.” // m. riboud
“a good snapshot keeps a moment from running away.” // e. welty
it’s been said, that in our head-over-heels digital age, that we’ve become a society that has over-shared. there is no longer a need for the TMI disclaimer, because there is nothing that could ever be deemed as too much information. the internet is awash with our dirty laundry. twitter is our confessional and our cheerleader in 140 characters. pinterest tells the world what we love, what we desire, what we need. there is no need to speak, we’ve got it all covered by the touch of the ‘enter’ key.
there is an element of truth to this, of course. yet, i don’t see it as being all bad. though the world has become smaller due to vorsprung durch technik, it has also become lived at a clip that for some, is a bit too quick. that’s why, opting out for a minute, taking just one moment, to take a photo using a free apphas fundamentally changed the way i, (and i’m sure a few of you), view this little green and blue marble we live on. sometimes, when you’re moving too fast – taking a photo helps to remind you of who you are, and where you’ve been. it also doesn’t hurt that you get to see the world through the eyes of some extremely stylish people…
“for the love of god, unless you’re prepping for rigoletto at the met, go easy on the eyeliner.” // c. cory
i’m beginning to fret that i’ve become repetitive. and it’s not that i haven’t got a clue, it’s just that when something as glorious as this comes along, what does it matter that i might’ve mentioned another similar product just twelve days ago?
being considerably beauty-product-obsessed, and also, apparently, a bit like jacob two-two, once i hurried away with my marc jacobs beauty booty that i waxed lyrical about, (yes, just six days ago), i realized i had chanced upon the holy grail of liquid liners. the cleverly named magic marc’er is without question, the winner of my never-ending quest for the best pen-liner, ever. period. done. finished. the end.
this is not hyperbole for the sake of being dramatic, after having tried all the liners that i could reasonably get my hands on, this is the most saturated, blackest, long-wearing, won’t-budge-even-if-you-have-a-good-cry-or-if-it’s-40°C-out eyeliner that i’ve ever tried. high praise, i know, but i’m not scared.