Rock the Silver

In Memorium: Charla Krupp

I was stunned this morning to read that Charla Krupp passed away. The New York Times obituary said she was 58 and died from breast cancer.

I first wrote about Charla in 2008, when I started the blog. Her book "How Not to Look Old" helped me through my transition to gray. In addition to a hair makeover, I needed a style makeover, and she had a lot of great advice. I never bought into her idea that you had to hide your age to be successful, but I still browse the book for tips on how to look better.

In 2010 I reviewed her book, "How to Never Look Fat Again." I didn't like it, but I don't think that affected her sales! And on a day when I am feeling pudgy, I might be tempted to pull it off the shelves and see if there are some ideas that don't seem quite so offensive in a time of need.

Rest in peace, Charla.

My hosed years

I'm glad Christmas is over, notwithstanding the miracle and everything. I've previously explained my problem with milia -- those nasty little white bumps that look like zits but aren't. Yesterday morning the last survivor on my nose spontaneously erupted, spewed out like a party streamer, and now it is gone. It's a Christmas miracle.

I would pay money to see it explode again.

By the way, I'm attributing the miracle to Saint Jojoba. I stopped slathering on anti-aging products and have used nothing but jojoba oil as my face moisturizer since this summer. I suspect my skin is now properly balanced, but I don't know for sure if that's why the milia finally went away. Perhaps it is not for us to know. You just have to believe.

Maybe it's the law of miracles, but it seems like everytime something good happens (exploding milia) something bad (nude pantyhose) slithers in from seemingly nowhere. I realize this is tender territory. Some of you love your nude pantyhose/stockings/tights or work in a setting where they are the expectation. And plenty of men love you for wearing them. I get that, but it still saddens me to learn they might be making a comeback.

That sneaky Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge! Certainly she and her legs look lovely and amazing in sausage casings, but I do not want to go there. I remember wearing girdles and garters in the 8th grade, which would have been 1969. My mother introduced me to pantyhose that same year, and I thought it was a miracle. Be wary of family members bearing gifts.

The next 20 or 30 years are a blur. It's hard to remember, but I feel certain I wore pantyhose through some of the 70s and all of the 80s. With the exception of job interviews, I abandoned them sometime in the 90s, but that's only because I switched to pants. I didn't start wearing skirts and dresses with bare legs until the turn of the century.

My hosed years. No fond memories for me. I tried every brand, every color, every size, every weekend. Wouldn't it be great to buy back the time you spent shopping for pantyhose? I liked to keep a stack of five in my drawer so I'd have a pair a day in case it all went horribly wrong. Even then, I'd get down to that last package and just pray I didn't snag a run putting them on. I seem to recall more than one emergency trip to the grocery store on the way to work.

Do you remember trying to stop a run with nail polish or hairspray? Cutting the bad leg off two different pairs and then wearing both good legs as a matched set? Colors that should have been named sunburn or fake tan? And travel buff! I vividly recall a woman who was a big wheel in the Junior League -- I worked with her on a community project. She wore travel buff, I know because I asked, and I always thought that color was a sign of elegance and class. Sadly, I was no pale flower, and travel buff looked like white tights on my olive skin.

One of the cool things about getting older is that we develop confidence in our unique style, and we don't have to be slaves to fashion. If you like to wear pantyhose, you wear them. You don't care what Kate does, and I don't either. To be fair, I actually think nude hose can be quite attractive, the good ones anyway, and I can sort of see the longing for a polished facade after years of unprecedented skankiness.

I like to look contemporary and stylish, but if we should somehow land in a kingdom where pantyhose rule, I will be wearing pants.

Eyewear mistakes

Eyewear mistakes, or is that I wear mistakes? This is five year's worth of less than perfect. Certainly, some were better than others. The little purplish pair looked cute when I had my pixie. The cranberry ones in the middle sucked from the day I brought them home. What was I thinking? I wore them anyway because I spent all that money, and what was I supposed to do?

You guessed right. The money has worn off, and I want new glasses. Part of the desire for a change is related to my hair. I'll post a new picture soon, but it has gone through a bit of a growth spurt. I feel like a long-haired girl these days. Sometimes I even toss it! I've settled on long bangs touching just below the brow, and that's part of the dilemma. How to wear glasses with bangs?

I Googled glasses and bangs, and guess who shows up on the first page wearing her cranberry glasses? Second row, seventh from the left. I tried hard to put them in the past. I think I even removed that post when I declared war on those glasses. But there they are, and there I am preserved seemingly forever in Google images.

But I did find a picture of this cool chick, and I thought -- that's the look I'm going for. Not the 30 years younger, blonde and beautiful part -- just simple glasses that frame my face and play nice with the bangs. I've always wanted cutting-edge style and replaced my glasses every year, but now I want classic and timeless. A pair of glasses so well-suited to my face that I would be foolish to look for anything else.

Spent the better part of yesterday and today looking. I did not buy, since I am still fearful of making another mistake. I'm going to take my time. One thing I learned -- I no longer value the opinion of the sales people. I told the one guy my criteria, and he brought over a couple of pairs that met my specs (I couldn't resist). But then he brought over a pair with all these colors woven in, and they looked good, and I was thinking maybe they were it until I remembered oh, yeah, I want classic and timeless. They're sneaky.

I tried on glasses virtually at various eyewear stores around the Internet, where I learned that black looks good against my silver hair, I like a wide horizontal effect, not too big, not too small and definitely not straight or square across the bridge of my nose. I prefer a definite dip in the middle. Pretty much like the glasses on the cool chick.

This shouldn't be so hard, but it is. My sister and I compared it to shopping for bras but worse. I think the problem is that buying glasses is the ultimate confrontation with your face. What do you look like versus what do you think you should look like? I know I will not look like the cool chick. I'll end up looking like me, which is not a bad thing, but I'm secretly hoping for something better.

A sucker for pleats

My mother was a wonderful seamstress, who made beautiful clothes for me and my sister and our dolls. Seriously -- she'd cut up old slips to make nightdowns for the dolls and old shower curtains to make rain coats. Our dolls were stylin'.

I tried to follow suit. Back in those days, girls took sewing in school. I learned the basics and took on a few projects with success. An apron. A sleeveless shift. An elastic waist skirt. The pinnacle of my career was my 8th grade graduation dress, which had long sleeves with cuffs and a zipper!

Brimming with confidence, I asked to make a jumper for my freshman year of high school. We did not have much discretionary cash, but my mother found the money to buy several yards of a gorgeous heathered purple wool fabric from the Pendleton Woolen Mills.

Pendleton was a huge splurge, so naturally I screwed it up. I will just say this. It was really hard to differentiate the right side from the wrong side of the fabric. And you can only rip out seams so many times before you've made a big mess of the whole thing. I have not sewn since.

But in my quest for American-made clothing, I rediscovered Pendleton. Much of their clothing is no longer made in the USA, but some of it is, so be sure to check the details if you are so inclined. The Portland Collection is a tribute to local designers. It's edgy, but I like it!

I got this skirt on eBay for $15. It's in beautiful condition. I wore it for a casual day at work with boots and my silk bomber jacket. I'm a sucker for pleats.

eBay is a great place to pick up new and vintage American-made clothing. I confess that I shop with greater confidence on eBay knowing that I have a fantastic tailor on tap to make necessary alterations. There's no universal search (that I know of) to find only clothes made in the USA. I look for brands that I know have a history in America, and then I read the fine print. I found this skirt by searching for Pendleton pleated skirts, and I checked weekly for about a month until the right one came along.

Tips for finding clothes made in the USA on eBay:

• Keep a list of brands recognized for being manufactured in the USA. Search for those brands, then narrow it down. You'll be wandering aimlessly for a month if you just start going through skirts hoping for one made in the USA.
• Read the details! If it doesn't say where it's made, write and ask. If they don't know, don't buy it.
• Size matters. Pay close attention to the measurements. Keep yours on a notecard by the computer. Measure your best fitting clothes, and keep a record of waist, overall length, shoulder to shoulder, shoulder to hem, armpit to armpit and armpit to sleeve hem.
• Size doesn't matter. Vintage sizes vary widely. What tiny little waists they had! My searches include sizes 6 to 14.
• Read the return policy -- most eBay merchants do not accept returns.

I'm sure I forgot something important, but I'll exit with an example of why buying local is cool. I bought the funky fur belt in this picture at my neighborhood consignment store here in Texas. Just for fun, I Googled the name of the company printed on the inside of the belt, and it turns out this belt was made within a couple of miles of the house where I grew up in California!

Somebody in my town made this belt, and I am surprised to feel gratified by the connection.

 

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.

 

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.

Style baggage and the new bare toes trend

I started swimming regularly about a month ago, and I've noticed toenail polish doesn't last anymore. I've decided to quit wasting money and skip the polish all together. At first, I was worried I would look less than groomed. But I like it! Even dressed up and wearing open-toe shoes, I like looking down and seeing a clean, pink, shiny toe.

Bare toes are the new trend, and the trend officially starts here. I bought a little teak stool that sits in the tub along with the appropriate pedicure accessories, and once a week I soak my feet for a bit, sand off the dead stuff, push back the cuticles, cut and file the nails and shine them up with a buffing block. Sometimes sisters just have to do it for themselves.

Who decided we had to paint them, anyway? Bare toes are much easier, and I think they look just as nice. If you've been painting them for awhile, it will take a little bit of time to lose the yellowing, but the reward is a pretty natural pink.

In our quest to look good, it seems like we get weighed down with style baggage over the years. I'm not a back-to-nature girl, but I do think you have to question some of your habits from time to time. Kind of like cleaning your closet. I know now that I don't need toenail polish to look stylish and groomed.

What else can go? What other style baggage can we leave at the station?

Progress on the path to long silver hair

I finally got my hair trimmed last week, and what a difference it makes! My stylist shaped up the bangs and did something to the back so that it doesn't look so much like a bob anymore. It looks longer to me. I'm unexpectedly happy -- it's amazing what a little trim can do even when you are growing your hair. About every six weeks is probably a good idea. But you do have to remind them each and every time that you are growing it -- just so they don't get scissor happy.

This is kind of exciting. My hair feels different. Like I actually have a hairstyle! That I will actually have long silver hair!

Can you tell I am wearing lipstick? Stylish Young Coworker already told me you can barely see it. At least she said that was an OK thing. I guess I will have to hire a lipstick consultant next time. I splurged since I don't know what I'm doing and went to the trusty ladies at the Neiman Marcus makeup counter. This is Chanel Rouge Coco #9. Not exactly a love potion, but I like it.

I can't remember if it was before or after I bought it that the Neiman ladies were slobbering over my hair. The sucking up there is an art form.

A lot of you are growing your hair, and I know this is slow and painful. This is two year's worth of growing for me with semi-regular trims. Hang in there!! There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Refining not reinventing as we gray

Going gray was kind of a giddy experience for me -- I wanted to try crazy colors, new styles, makeup and high heels. It was almost like losing a bunch of weight and then standing in front of the mirror in fucsia faux leather leggings saying, "Damn, I look hot." Well, yes. But hot is ... I don't know ... unnecessary?

I viewed going gray as an opportunity to reinvent myself. But three years into this project, I now realize it was an opportunity to refine myself. You know the expression don't throw the baby out with the bathwater? I think it means something like don't throw away the valuable stuff just because you have to drain the dirty sink. Lose tired old habits, stretch, grow, try new things, but don't give up on who you really are.

Example. I'm a tan trench coat kind of gal. I bought this bold purple wonder last year and felt like queen of the world. My husband calls it my Alice in Wonderland coat. I remember reader Barbara telling me not to get rid of the tan trench. I listened. I still like the purple coat for a fun alternative, but it's not a classic. It's not the coat I return to time and again.

I like a bit of bling, but I went a little bling crazy. I normally buy simple high-quality items and wear them forever. I purchased this relatively inexpensive blingy white sweater, and all the ding dongs fell off within six months.

My toes suddenly became a priority. I don't think I had ever had a pedicure until sometime in my 40s. It kills me to see 18-year-old girls there feeling so entitled, but that's a different story. I went for bright coral and dark red at first but eventually settled on kind of a minky taupe. I now like my feet and toes to look groomed but not splashy.

I'm not retreating. Not reinventing. Just refining as I go. I still wear far more color than I ever did, but I try to use it more judiciously. I discovered cobalt blue looks awesome with my silver hair! Still liking the slightly sexy mid-height heels. Still wearing a bit of makeup. But now that I prefer a more subdued look everywhere else, I might finally listen to what you've been telling me all along and try lipstick! Yes, lipstick! It's crazy talk.

Moral of the story. It's a fun journey we're on. More like a moving train. Get on, and see where it takes you. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. Don't be afraid to get off the train and go somewhere else.

In search of a stylish hat

If only it weren't for my occipital lobe. I didn't even know it was there until I lost my hair during chemotherapy 12 years ago, and then all of the sudden my husband and I noticed this pronounced hump, practically a shelf, on the back of my head. It's like, what is that? Does everybody have one? We called it my brain pack.

Although it does make me well-suited for short hair, which I no longer have, and now I'm wondering why the hell not, it doesn't help with hats. It may appear as though I have a lovely little head, but it's actually gynormous. I wear a 7 1/2 in men's sizes, which is what they usually list as extra large. For men. When I was in the Army many many moons ago, I wore the biggest hat they made for women, and it was tight. Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing the brain, and we can't have that.

I want a hat. A cute weekend hat for when I'm tooling around. Like Katie Holmes in her fedora. Or maybe something like this. A fashionable chapeau that disguises morning hair and makes me feel sassy. Maybe even a panama hat or a beret? I have no idea how any of these would look on me, because none of the hats at the store fit my beefy noggin.

Even online, none of the women's hats would fit me. J. Crew has this adorable hat for stylish pinheads. I would hesitate to order online, anyway, because I don't really know how I look in hats. I do like my Tilley for outdoor activities, but that isn't the look I'm going for. I want a city hat.

At least I think I do. Hats are kind of a statement, and I'm not sure if I can pull it off. Most of the pictures I've seen of women hearing hats are of adorable young style icons, church ladies and Queen Elizabeth wannabes (not that she doesn't look adorable). I'm thinking hats are the perfect accessory for women our age and ought to look spectacular with gray hair, but I also think it will take some work to find the right look. I don't want to look as though I'm trying too hard to be hip or end up as one of the stereotypical crazy old ladies wearing a goofy hat.

May I ask, do you wear hats?