Rock the Silver

No makeup, no products, no nothing

Donna with morning hair, no products, no makeup, no nothing -- is that so horrible?

I don't know what's going on with me, but I feel myself being pulled -- or am I deliciously sinking -- into a place I'll call the no-bullshit zone. I started using natural oils and gradually got pissed at China and next thing you know, I'm raging against mascara and hair extensions. Here it comes.

Just so you know, makeup was never my thing. I used to say men look attractive without makeup, why are women only considered beautiful when they are painted? I only started wearing makeup when I went silver, and even then, most people can't tell I'm wearing any. But I made the supreme effort for the greater good of silverkind. The problem is my lashes are sparse, and mascara only goes so far.

I actually looked into alternatives such as eyelash extensions, Latisse, tinting and eyelash perms -- yes, there is such a thing. And then I thought, why? Because someone somewhere decided we have to have doll-like lashes? Can't someone somewhere say natural-looking lashes are just fine, thank you? I now do a little swipe of mascara just to darken them a bit and leave it at that.

And so it comes to extensions of another sort. As I was watching television the other night, I was struck by the quality of the hair. It's like they are genetically superior. Seriously, I actually said it looks to me that if you have thick hair, the world is your oyster. You can have a pie job on TV and live happily ever after. Not that I'm bitter about having fine hair.

Not long after that, I saw where Cindy Joseph dyed her hair blonde for an advertising gig. In the discussion at Going Gray Looking Great, Cindy comments on the choices she made and reveals that she wears extensions. She really does look fabulous, but all this time I had been thinking maybe someday my hair could look like hers! In a parallel universe maybe.

Everyone should remember that celebrities are very different from you and me. The rest of us should not and cannot be held up to a standard of beauty defined by fakery. They are entertainers and peddlers of products that may or may not be useful -- certainly not role models.

Most of us live in the world of mere mortals, and I believe mere mortals are attracted to each other without all the bullshit. And mere mortals can look and feel gorgeous without trying to mimic celebrities. We are not them, so let's quit pretending.

I'm certainly not giving up, and I will probably continue to use cosmetics and other products sparingly, but I am rethinking my definition of beauty, and I have to tell you, it feels good.

 

Sleep tight ...

So, I've been noticing these little bitey splotchy things on my neck and arms. Then Sunday I woke up with a red dot on my nose, and yesterday I woke up with four red dots on my face and forehead. I thought about it all day at work and assumed the worst. I asked my husband to check me out.

Hey, Dale?

Yeah?

Would you look at these spots on my face?

Come over here by the light.

I walk over to the kitchen window and pull my hair back so he can see. He takes a good look and immediately pulls away in shock and horror. He says in this ultra-serious Marcus Welby voice, "I hate to tell you this, but ..."

Dale, what? Oh my God.

We have bed bugs.

Seriously?

We must have brought them back from Mexico. I've had bites, too.

Are you sure?

There are blood smears on the sheets -- that's one of the signs.

Whew.

What? You aren't horrified? I thought you'd freak.

No, I'm so relieved it's not me. You know what a hypochrondriac I am.

Well, yes.

I was thinking I had a horrible disease.

You have a vivid imagination.

Um, as you'll recall, this one time everyone thought I was imagining things, and it turned out to be cancer.

So, bed bugs are a rosier alternative?

Bingo.

Dale's mission today is to start calling around and get somebody over here to purge the bastards. I think he's kind of excited. He has been obsessed with bed bugs ever since he read about the resurgence ... talking about them long before he suspected they were in our house. Now it's a duel -- man against bug.

A silver-haired role model goes blonde

Cindy Joseph, the greatest silver-haired role model ever, dyed her hair blonde for an advertising gig. You can read all about it and see the pictures on Going Gray Looking Great.

As I read it, there was an audible not unlike the noise my cat makes when he is wounded. My husband was on the other side of the room, and he almost jumped out of his chair.

Are you OK?

Yes, Cindy Joseph dyed her hair blonde.

And that's a big deal how?

She practically started the revolution single-handedly.

Huh.

It's so disappointing. Not that she took the money, but that advertisers didn't see her as beautiful with gray hair.

Probably made a bundle.

Yeah, I guess I would do it for a million.

Absolutely! Let's not be doctrinaire about this.

So there you have it. Follow the money.

Does it matter where your clothes are made?

I have been searching for the perfect black pleated skirt for three years, and I thought I found it at Neiman Marcus last week. It was $400, which I know is ridiculous, but I bought it anyway, because I thought of it as an investment piece. It would last a lifetime. Then I got it home.

Something possessed me to look at the label, and I saw it was made in China. I don't know whether I grew a conscience overnight or what, but it pissed me off. I'm not an anti-China zealot. In fact, I'm not much of a zealot at all. Zealots or extremists of any persuasion or political perspective scare me. You know, why can't we all just get along?

Sweatshops

But I started thinking about why our clothes are made in China. But as I began to read about it, I never could get to the core of my concern. It's not one thing or even two. At first I thought it was about sweatshops. Nobody reasonable wants to support horrible working conditions anywhere, and China's sweatshops are renowned. But a reasonable person would also have to assume not every apparel manufacturer in China is disreputable. But how will you know? Who has time to check?

The next leap is to imagine that buying American will make a difference. However, made in the USA does not necessarily mean sweatshop-free. Forever 21 and others have been tarred and feathered for shady ethics and for violating our nation's labor laws. That said, I'm proud to say we do have labor laws, so it gives me some comfort to buy clothes made in the USA. If you can find them.

It turns out you can shop for American-made clothing at Nordstrom online by using keyword USA in the search box. I did that, and then narrowed my search to women's apparel and got these results. Some of the designers include Jason Wu, Trina Turk and Nanette Lepore -- and none of it is inexpensive. Even if you know a designer manufactures clothes made in the USA, that doesn't mean ALL that designer's clothes are made in the USA. You have to check each label. Lots of online stores say "imported." If it's imported from Europe, they usually say.

Follow the money

As I peel back the onion, I think, well, European clothes are of excellent quality and are made by skilled craftsmen who earn a living wage. Part of the problem with that scenario is that European clothes are usually very expensive and even famous French and Italian designers now manufacture their fashions in China. This article surprised me more than anything -- some clothes have the enviable label Made in Italy, but they are made in Italy by Chinese immigrants who flagrantly skirt the law and turn out low-end clothes for the mass market.

Am I worried about quality and value or the ability of workers around the world to earn a living wage? All of the above. And what about the economics of this shift? If high-end designers are manufacturing their clothes in China to save money, why am I still paying $400 for a skirt? Methinks they are not passing along any savings to either the workers or the consumers. It's not that I'm turning into a Marxinista, but who gets the money? 

A national competency

Do I care that America gave away an industry and that our economy is in the tank? Yes. I look at that beautiful cashmere coat I bought last year at a thrift shop. Here's what I wrote then:

There's a tiny little International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union label inside. I think about the hard-working American women who made this fine garment years and years ago and compare it to the crap I buy today that falls apart after one season. It makes me want to hunt down more classic vintage pieces.

I went and looked at one of my favorite jackets. It's six years old and still looks new. It's by the French designer Bernard Zins. Made in France. Then I thought about this really cool imported dress I had in high school. It was made out of a beautiful Indian fabric and was made in India. I felt the same way about that dress as I feel about my Parisian jacket, and I think that's because the dress was made in the country of origin. Somebody in India was proud of that dress.

It's complicated. It's not that China or any other cheap-labor country is bad. For most of America, inexpensive clothes are a blessing. There are other positives. Free market and all that. Supposedly 55 cents of every dollar spent on a Chinese item comes back to the U.S. I'm not a very good zealot, and I'm not sure I have the wherewithall or even the desire to boycott imported clothes. Aside from the high-end stuff, the prices are irresistible. I do know I will try to get away from this idea of disposable fashion. I don't really need seven pairs of shorts. Buying used and vintage clothing is another good way to put the brakes on the fast-fashion machine.

I said at the beginning of this ramble that I wasn't sure what was at the core of my concern. Sure, some of it is snobbishness about quality, but the overriding emotion I feel is a profound sense of loss. I have served our country in uniform, and warts and all, I love America. We had skilled workers who fought bravely to revolutionize working conditions and made beautiful clothes for the people of this country -- it was an incredible national competency, and we gave it away.

A thong to be proud of

Let me conclude this too-long post with a story.

Right after I woke up with a conscience, I returned the skirt to Neiman's. I browsed lingerie while I was there, as I was in search of a new Chantelle bra. Chantelle is a French company, but when I looked at the label I saw the bras are now made in China. I was examining the tag, and a sales woman approached me and asked if anything was wrong. I said, no, I was just surprised to see Chantelle bras are now made in China. She said, "You're kidding!"

Together we went through all the bras in the Neiman's lingerie department, and we couldn't find a one that was made in the country of origin. She said, wow, is anything made in America anymore? My eyes lit up, and I said, "Yes! Hanky Panky!"

We raced over to the table stacked with lacy thongs, and she picked one up to examine the label. And there in tiny little print it said made in USA.

She clutched the thong and held it to her chest. She said, "I know it's just a thong, but it makes me so proud."

I guess this is what 56 looks like

Today is my 56th birthday. I was thinking it was a non-event until I read an article about 9/11. One of the first responders was describing that horrible day, which also happened to be his birthday. He said the day is a joyous occasion for him now, because birthdays are a celebration of life.

I never really thought about it that way, even after being diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian/peritoneal cancer at age 43. I'm certainly happy to be here, but to me, birthdays were just another Hallmark day. But now I am going to think of it as a celebration of my life.

Sometimes I feel that I haven't accomplished what I set out to do, but overall, I think I've done a pretty good job with my time on Planet Earth. I'm profoundly grateful I got to live.

So, this is what 56 looks like. Could that be approaching shoulder-length gray hair? And leggings? I'm as surprised as anyone. So much yet to be revealed, and with any luck, plenty of time to get to the rest of the stuff.

Coconut oil: something for everyone!

Once I embraced jojoba oil for my hair, I began to think about what other natural products might be useful. I would like to reduce my use of chemicals and be less dependent on stuff marketers have convinced me I need.

I've experimented with a deodorant crystal with great success. I also quit using commercial moisturizers on my face. My eyes itched all the time, and I noticed several little hard white bumps that I believe are called milia. I read that our friend jojoba was good for sensitive skin and for treating acne, so I gave it a whirl. I put just a few drops into my hands and then rub it all over my face. My skin is soft, all but one of the bumps is gone and I'm winning the war on that last one, too.

Then I moved to the rest of my body. Although a lot of women use coconut oil on their hair, I didn't try it because my hair is fine, and I thought it might be too heavy. But I thought, why not try it for my skin? It's a lot cheaper than jojoba.

It turns out coconut oil is some kind of wonder product. Look at that label! While many debate the merits of cooking with it, no one seems to take issue with its moisturizing benefits. I had just finished up a jar of lotion and thought I'd try coconut oil instead.

I purchased a 16-ounce jar of Barlean's Extra Virgin 100% Organic Coconut Oil for about $13 at a local health food store. When I first opened the jar, it was liquid. I used it on my skin, and thought, well, this will be a sloppy mess. But when I opened it the next time, it had hardened to an almost Crisco-like texture. I reached in, scooped a bit out, and it almost instantly dissolved in my hands for fuss-free spreading. A little goes a long way. I smelled pretty coconutty at first, but on me anyway, the scent fades within an hour and leaves a lovely but subtle scent. My skin feels wonderful.

The other positive benefit has been to my cuticles -- rubbing all that coconut oil into my skin has left them softer than ever. By the way, I did use it as a deep conditioner on my hair, but it turned out to be way too heavy for frequent use. Also, I have not cooked with it, but if I did, I will buy a separate jar for the kitchen (just so you know).

I'm no expert, so I'm sure you'll want to validate everything I say in your own way. But I will share my experiences with natural products from time to time. One data point for you to consider. I'm thinking that if you discovered you can live without hair dye, you might be interested in exploring what else you can get rid of.

The ghost of J. Crew future

Is it true that everytime a J. Crew opens in your town, an angel gets its wings? If so, it was a happy day in heaven this week. But then I guess it's a happy day in heaven every week -- those slackers.

But back to the misery here amongst the walking wounded. War, a plunging stock market, hurricanes, earthquakes, record heat, poverty, joblessness ... you start to add it up, and it seems like maybe somebody up there doesn't like us. But then along comes a spanky new J. Crew blocks from your house and I don't know, it all feels better with a J. Crew sweater!

One of my young co-workers was there the day it opened. She left straight after work. Probably scooted out early. I know these girls. We had heard reports it was open, but it was good we sent an advance party, because she was able to confirm it the next day. She sounded just like Heidi in the Ricola ads as she sang from the hallways, "It's open!"

Ricola!

Then I get the full report on how she LOVES everything J. Crew, and how she's going to so do her whole fall wardrobe from there, and somehow, for me, the concept of shopping at J. Crew is losing its charm. I kind of have this vision of us all lined up in our J. Crew outfits -- you know how in school, they line you up by height? The voices in my head suggest we will be lined up by age, the young ones at one end and me at the other, not exacly an apples-to-apples comparison, but more of a, "This is the ghost of J. Crew future."

And it just isn't all that appealing to me. I would rather forge some sort of iconic fashion identity that someone else hasn't created from a mold. What this new identity looks like, I don't know. But I do know it will probably involve nun shoes. I so don't want to go the frump route, especially with silver hair -- it could be a recipe for disaster. But I can't continue to wear heels.

I tried on Mephistos last weekend and shed a tear for my lost youth. But I'm pressing on, J. Crewless, committed to refining my style with individuality and comfortable shoes.

Gray hair news and inspiration

I periodically cruise blogs and news for posts and articles about gray hair, and this week I struck gold. Or should I say silver ...

Patti at the excellent food blog Worth the Whisk revealed her gorgeous silver self. Get on over there and take a peek -- she looks great!

The Huffington Post featured a nice piece by Barbara Hannah Grufferman about graying hair and the choices we make.

Corporette ran an interesting article about businesswomen and gray hair ... why men are seen as gaining gravitas with their gray, while gray-haired women are sometimes perceived as having "let themselves go." Argghhh.

Alyson at That's Not My Age formally introduced herself after two years of blogging -- and on top of looking sensational, she is rocking some silver on blonde.

As with all these pieces, don't forget to read the comments for perspective and sometimes even inspiration! I, myself, am seeking inspiration today in the form of retail therapy. I've got a shopping jones and an urge for something different.

When it comes to gray hair and style, the only thing to let go of is judgment and fear.