MUSINGS BY JOAN #27
It takes a village to keep a woman looking good these days. I remember with great nostalgia my coiffure back in 1957 when I arrived in Florida. My hair still didn’t need the talented ministrations of an expensive hairdresser. It reached the middle of my back and I would toss it up on top of my head in a bun or wear it in one long single braid.
I could swim, wind surf and snorkel all afternoon and show up at a posh restaurant for dinner, perfectly groomed, with my hair still damp.
Ah, those were the days. If you are wondering why I am waxing nostalgic, it’s because Louis, my once-and-forever hairdresser, the guardian of my hair color formula, has had the temerity to fall down and go boom, breaking his femur and rendering himself unable to make it to the salon for my monthly cut and color appointment. I’ve been trying to wait out his return, but my bangs are obviously growing faster than his bone is knitting, not to mention the unmentionable that is threatening to take over my roots. I know this subject will not resonate with the males who receive my blog, but I defy you to show me the woman older than 18 who can go it alone for more than a month without a little professional help.
My nails, on the other hand, (or actually on both hands), are looking terrific. Would that everything else on my body had stood the test of time so well. That’s because Kathy, my wonderful nail tech, has the great sense to stay upright and unbroken. I visited her this morning for my regular appointment and I never fail to be fascinated by the conversations that fly back and forth at Salon Trio, Kathy’s nail salon. I am an anomaly in the salon – a non-talker – mostly because I bring the crossword puzzle from the Miami Herald and work away whenever my left hand is free to hold my pen. When Kathy works on my writing hand, filing, applying acrylic and polish, I lay down my pen and listen to what’s going on around me.
You’ve heard of the cable shows “The Real Housewives of New Jersey / Atlanta / Los Angeles" etc. etc? Welcome to “The Real Housewives of Pinecrest”. These are funny ladies, many with young children, others doting grandmothers, still others, successful business women. And boy, can they talk.
Kathy, and her partner Nicole, are the caring repositories of everyone’s life histories. They know all the details, both good and messy, about their clients’ kids, husbands and boyfriends, including infidelities, illnesses and a million other pressing issues. I have to admit that even I, on occasion, will give her a run down on what’s happening in my life. She certainly heard all about Adam & Amy’s wedding, both before and after. I remember we had several serious discussions about what color polish I should wear that would go well with my bronze satin gown. Since I never vary from my French manicure, that was not exactly a riveting problem, but we did finally opt for a touch of glitter in the colorless over coat because of the importance of the occasion..
It takes a little (read a lot) longer these days to be ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille. I am beholding to a whole litany of product lines to take the giant step from my wake-up face to my public face, but then again, who isn’t. (You guys don’t know how good you have it. You get up, take a shower, get dressed and leave.) But I’m not complaining. I feel inordinately lucky that I am still healthy and full of energy at this ridiculously advanced age. I can still walk several miles in the morning (my daughter complains I walk too fast for her) and I am obsessed with completing the daily cross word puzzle. Actually, my newest obsession is a highly addictive dice game on Facebook called Farkle that my grandson's friend Lucks sent me. Who knew I was such a virtual gambler! Most exciting, I am busy at work again and feeling productive.
It doesn’t get any better than that.
# # #
It takes a village to keep a woman looking good these days. I remember with great nostalgia my coiffure back in 1957 when I arrived in Florida. My hair still didn’t need the talented ministrations of an expensive hairdresser. It reached the middle of my back and I would toss it up on top of my head in a bun or wear it in one long single braid.
I could swim, wind surf and snorkel all afternoon and show up at a posh restaurant for dinner, perfectly groomed, with my hair still damp.
Ah, those were the days. If you are wondering why I am waxing nostalgic, it’s because Louis, my once-and-forever hairdresser, the guardian of my hair color formula, has had the temerity to fall down and go boom, breaking his femur and rendering himself unable to make it to the salon for my monthly cut and color appointment. I’ve been trying to wait out his return, but my bangs are obviously growing faster than his bone is knitting, not to mention the unmentionable that is threatening to take over my roots. I know this subject will not resonate with the males who receive my blog, but I defy you to show me the woman older than 18 who can go it alone for more than a month without a little professional help.
My nails, on the other hand, (or actually on both hands), are looking terrific. Would that everything else on my body had stood the test of time so well. That’s because Kathy, my wonderful nail tech, has the great sense to stay upright and unbroken. I visited her this morning for my regular appointment and I never fail to be fascinated by the conversations that fly back and forth at Salon Trio, Kathy’s nail salon. I am an anomaly in the salon – a non-talker – mostly because I bring the crossword puzzle from the Miami Herald and work away whenever my left hand is free to hold my pen. When Kathy works on my writing hand, filing, applying acrylic and polish, I lay down my pen and listen to what’s going on around me.
You’ve heard of the cable shows “The Real Housewives of New Jersey / Atlanta / Los Angeles" etc. etc? Welcome to “The Real Housewives of Pinecrest”. These are funny ladies, many with young children, others doting grandmothers, still others, successful business women. And boy, can they talk.
Kathy, and her partner Nicole, are the caring repositories of everyone’s life histories. They know all the details, both good and messy, about their clients’ kids, husbands and boyfriends, including infidelities, illnesses and a million other pressing issues. I have to admit that even I, on occasion, will give her a run down on what’s happening in my life. She certainly heard all about Adam & Amy’s wedding, both before and after. I remember we had several serious discussions about what color polish I should wear that would go well with my bronze satin gown. Since I never vary from my French manicure, that was not exactly a riveting problem, but we did finally opt for a touch of glitter in the colorless over coat because of the importance of the occasion..
It takes a little (read a lot) longer these days to be ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille. I am beholding to a whole litany of product lines to take the giant step from my wake-up face to my public face, but then again, who isn’t. (You guys don’t know how good you have it. You get up, take a shower, get dressed and leave.) But I’m not complaining. I feel inordinately lucky that I am still healthy and full of energy at this ridiculously advanced age. I can still walk several miles in the morning (my daughter complains I walk too fast for her) and I am obsessed with completing the daily cross word puzzle. Actually, my newest obsession is a highly addictive dice game on Facebook called Farkle that my grandson's friend Lucks sent me. Who knew I was such a virtual gambler! Most exciting, I am busy at work again and feeling productive.
It doesn’t get any better than that.
# # #
Caption: A small segment of the "willage of products" in my dressing table drawer. I need all the help I can get these days.
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