The Pretty Committee

I am so in love with HGTV and the whole DIY thing. I watch endless hours of TV that focus on making over ugly '70s houses and other neglected properties. The experts turn these places into chic, sophisticated homes that match the owner’s persona perfectly. The transformations are amazing.

It occurred to me the other day, while we were in the midst of our marathon photo shoot, that the same treatment should be given to people, especially us ladies. We sometimes get so busy with day to day life that we forget to spruce up or modernize our look. Just like well-built homes, we girls have “good bones” and all we need is an update. Let me get back to what happened with the models. We went on an extensive model search for “fluffier” girls who hopefully had some modeling experience. The plus-sized models world is very narrow and the same girls are used all the time. We wanted our own “dream team” of beauty-FULL models to represent LoveFifi.

The gorgeous six ladies who won out over the competition are extraordinary and have such amazing self-esteem. Even though most of them were first timers in front the camera, their confidence and femininity ignited their shots in a way that is indescribable. Imagine watching the most exquisite butterfly you have ever seen and there are fireworks exploding behind it in the sky. That’s what it felt like watching these lovelies express their inner and outer beauty in front of the camera.

You know I am very random, so please stick with me on this one. I am getting to the point. Before a model goes on set, she spends about 2 hours in hair and makeup. This was very exciting for my new models. For my straight size models, this is part of their professional day-to-day experience and they are privy to every beauty trick in the book. It’s just part of their lives. For my curvy girls, who are all very pretty, sitting in the makeup chair was like Disneyland. My beauty team, who I call The Pretty Committee, are the best in the business. Each and every one of my plus-sized girls was overwhelmed with the results which only added to their swagger when they stepped in front of the camera. Even though these girls were brimming with faith in themselves as women and were very comfortable with their bodies, they had never been polished up to their potential brilliance.

Ok, the point is coming... We all get so stuck in our routines that we don’t make time to upgrade our look. We leaf through magazines with all the new trends in hair and makeup in front of our faces and then put on our sweats, throw our hair in a ponytail, pop on our sunglasses and that’s as good as it gets. I am guilty it, too.

Only movie stars and celebrities have hair and makeup experts on staff. We regular girls have to be a little more resourceful. I am going to initiate a new movement and I hope all my ladies out there will be a part of it. It’s called DIYB... Do It Yourself, Baby.

First, take out older photos of yourself from 2,5,10 years ago. Do you still have the same hairdo? I did. We all buy makeup and hair products, how much of it do we only use once and eventually throw away?

Here’s where the DIYB starts. You can have your own Pretty Committee for very little money, or at least, money you would have spent anyway. Start getting the most out of it. The next time you go for a trim, ask the hairdresser if he/she were given the green light to do anything they wanted with your hair, what would they suggest? Assuming that you go to a contemporary salon and not one of those places that does that does shampoo-and-sets for blue-haired old ladies, you will probably get an answer worth listening to. Stylists have to keep up with the times and their suggestions are usually good. They also see you your beauty potential in a much different light than you do. Let them impart their expertise to you. They are the expert. Consider making a small change. Layers or bangs or some highlights are easy and can make an astonishing difference. If you never go to the hairdresser, spend a little money to go to a decent one every once in a while. And ask questions.

Is there anything more enticing than the makeup aisles Wal-Mart or Target? I am a big fan of drug store beauty products, but there is no one in those places who has a clue as to what would look good on you. Every department store in America has extensive beauty counters with smock-wearing makeup girls who are often employed not by the store, but by the makeup brand. They are trained to make women look better so that you will buy the products. They are at the ready to plunk you down on a stool and make you over. Let them! Ask for a hand mirror so you can look between every step. It doesn’t really matter which brand you choose. Look for the girl who you think looks the best and whose makeup is tastefully applied. Be careful not to get lassoed in by anyone who looks like a geisha, a call girl or a member of Kiss. Listen to every word. Watch every step. You'll have to buy something and my advice is to get a foundation (they are trained to match skin tones and the quality is very good) and/or a makeup primer (trust me, primer is too high tech for drug stores). Everything else can come from Walgreen's once you know what you need. Have her stroke a little blush on a tissue so you can match it later. If you don’t like the total result, come back another day and go to another brand. It’s basically a free service and besides, it’s fun.

And the last members of your own personal Pretty Committee are the people in your life. Please LISTEN to what they say when you have put all your new knowledge to work. It will happen and it feels so good.

My sweet mother never went out of the house without her “face” on. Her hair was always coiffed. She used to say that if you look good, you feel good. It’s true. How about a little DIYB? Are you in?

Just to get you going, I have printed photos of some of my new models when I met them, and after the experts got their hands on them. My butterflies...

Service Call

I had such an epiphany the other day. What made me "epiph", you ask? Well, let me tell you. I was out doing my errands over the weekend. I had to return a skirt that must have shrunk in the bag. I was at a discount store, so I didn’t expect to be pampered, but I don’t really return items that often so I forget how much fun it is not. I had to stand in a special line for returns only. The vibe is very different than when it’s your turn at the checkout line and you have a basket full of stuff and an American Express Card in a holster ready to swipe. You get asked “How are you?” and there are lots of smiles. Sometimes I even get compliments on my choices. Not so in the returns line. They remove your item from the bag and inspect it with a grimace. There are no smiles and no girlie small talk. The lady unfolded my skirt and asked why I returned it. I lied and said I changed my mind. That should be good enough. “Something wrong with it?”, she asked with a bit of an attitude. “No", I said politely, "I just changed my mind.” Good grief, I am returning a $19.99 skirt, not a flat screen TV. Do you think for a moment that I was going to tell her that is was too tight and the shade of brown made me look like a bran muffin?

Then I went to my manicure place. You would think I was Julia Roberts the way they greeted me. "Oh Miss Fifi!" "So nice to see you!" The owner began to fill up the foot tub for my spa pedicure and set the massage chair in the rotation I like. Roll... kneed... pound... and back to roll. I sat down and put my feet in the warm, perfumed water and relaxed. I was then offered a cup of tea and magazines. They made me feel special and it was good.

My next stop was that infamous giant department store that shall go nameless. The shopping experience there was less than warm and fuzzy. It should be a great place to shop because they have everything including groceries and a Starbucks. It’s an awful place to shop for many reasons, but allow me to target my comments exactly. There are only cashiers who actually work there. The red clad “associates” only cruise the aisles with their walkie-talkies to make you think that they are there to help you. If you can walk fast enough to ask one a question, they never have an answer. They think what you are looking for might be “over that-a-way” as they point randomly towards the other end of the store. Their feet never stop moving as you are chasing trying them to try to get some information. When you ask them too much, they get on the walkie-talkie with another associate and pretend they have a crisis in another department.

This is in sharp contrast to my grocery store that is part of a giant national chain. The focus group fairy must have hit food chains hard, because if you ask where something is, they drop what they are doing and escort you to the item. And when you check out at the check stand, the checker person always asks if you found everything you were looking for and then inquires if you will need any help to your car. No one at that other place would ever ask you that. There are no people to help so you manage the load by yourself and push the cart out the door. It’s not so bad, but then when the wheels lock when you are 50 feet from your car, it’s not so good, either.

Even the nice department stores make it hard to shop. There is no personalized service anymore and that seems strange to me. If my grocery store can personally take me to the sauerkraut, why isn’t there someone at Macy’s to help me with an outfit? What is wrong with this world? And now they ask you how you would like to receive your receipt? Printed, email or both? Really? Let me think... I already get enough email, and I want my carbon footprint reduced so paper is bad. How would I like to receive my receipt? How about they get a Caribbean steel drum band to deliver my purchase summary reggae style? THAT I would like.

On the way home I decided to treat myself to a Starbucks. I have a drive-thru one close to my home so I swooped on in for a latte. They are always so friendly and ready to make you happy. The kid on the other end of the intercom made me feel like he had been waiting for little ol' me to show up all day. I ordered my iced coffee and by the time I got to the window I couldn’t wait to meet the sweetie who had taken my order. We completed our transaction and he sent me off with a big smile. It makes paying 5 dollars for something I could have made at home for practically nothing worth every penny.

You just can’t make any sense out of customer service today. Some retailers think it is important and others don’t give a crap. I am old enough to remember a time when sales people and restaurant people knew the names of their customers. Now you wait on yourself most of the time and wait in line for the privilege of paying for it. It is no wonder that online shopping has caught on like wildfire. You don’t have to find a parking place or deal with people. If you need help there are FAQs to guide you and reviews from other shoppers to help along the way. You can shop 24 hours a day and you can do it naked if you feel like it.

Woman Of The Cloth

You already know that I am quirky, so you won't be shocked by my next admission. As I was ironing my cloth napkins over the weekend, I had sweet thoughts of my mother teaching me how to press them just so and stack them when I was a girl. Just in case you think I was preparing for the holidays, I wasn't. I use cloth napkins at my house every day, even though I am usually the only one dining.

Now when I say "dining" I am referring to any kind of eating at home. If I have a peanut butter sandwich, I use a cloth napkin. You have no idea how elegant a PB&J can be when you wipe your lips with real cloth.

Believe me when I tell you that switching to cloth can even make eating a Hot Pocket on the couch feel sophisticated.

Think of how it feels when you go to a fancy restaurant and the waiter takes your starched napkin, unfurls it dramatically, and places it in your lap. It's special... and you probably sit up straighter and look forward to your meal with greater anticipation. I get the same feeling when I use cloth napkins at home. I skip the unfurling part because it scares the dogs, but the feeling of cloth in my lap instead of paper makes me feel like a queen.

I really hate it that with most people, cloth napkins have become something for only special occasions or 5-star restaurants. Believe me when I tell you that switching to cloth can even make eating a Hot Pocket on the couch feel sophisticated.

It is really no big deal to throw a weeks worth of napkins in the washer. The ironing part takes no time at all and sometimes I can just kind of smooth them with my hands. It's all worth it when you sit down to eat. And when you have a guest? Just watch their faces when you hand them a cloth napkin to go with their coffee and bagel.

I guess I am just a tactile person. I love thick towels, soft sheets, and lofty comforters, as well. Thank goodness the same people who make paper napkins and paper towels didn't tinker with converting other cloth items into disposable paper. Can you imagine getting out of the tub and tearing off a big wide piece of perforated paper toweling from a big roll? I wince at the thought. The best part of bathing is the "hug" you get when you wrap a towel around yourself.

I had a dreadful experience once that proves that this is so true. I was staying in a friends guest house which was located about 100 yards from the main house. I was happily taking a hot shower and did not realize until I got out - dripping wet - that the host had forgotten to restock the bathroom with towels since the last visitor. Not wishing to damage the wood floors in the cottage, I turned to my survival instincts. I got back in the shower and shook my tailfeather and a few other things to get as much water off me as I could. I then stepped out and used most of the box of Kleenex on the counter. I got dry enough to race to the bedroom and finish up with my sweatshirt. I have worshiped the feel of bath towels since that day.

Granted, some things make much more sense made out of paper. Motherhood has become more convenient and less stinky with the advent of disposable diapers. Although good handkerchiefs are very old school and romantic for both men and women, I never liked the idea of carrying around a booger-y hanky all day. You can only use it once before it is disgusting. I like my tissues, thank you. Now, if you want to give paper a real round of applause, lets hear it for toilet paper! Before it's invention, people used everything from leaves to corn husks to do the job. French royalty used lace, which sounds nicer, but still terrible. I am grateful for my ultra thick, 2-ply, kitten soft, toilet paper, but I am still opposed to the use of paper napkins in the home.

I imagine that I hold on to some of "old school" ideas because I really don't love it that the whole world has gotten so casual and forgotten how some things can make simple everyday occurrences more pleasurable. Maybe I've seen too many 1940s movies where ladies do ladylike things like write their daily correspondence on real stationary with their initials embossed on it. Now women just dash off an email or a text message if they want to say something. They don't even take the trouble to write whole words these days. Is anybody THAT busy that they don't have time to write "you" instead of just "U"? I am pretty sure that I won't have much luck convincing these same people to use cloth napkins, but it's their loss.

Think about what I'm saying. Think about buying some napkins made of real cloth to use every day. I promise that you will see what wonders it does for your sense of well being. It will make you feel regal and elegant, even if you are eating a Lean Cuisine and watching Family Feud.

Trust me on this one.

The Suite Life

I don’t know what it is about going away to a nice hotel that still excites me at my age, but it does. I recently went to Las Vegas and stayed at one of their swankiest hotels. I loved every minute of it.

We drove down the long driveway off the Vegas strip to the front of the hotel. As we arrived at the valet, the cutest young man rushed to the car and welcomed me to the “Blah Blah Hotel” like they couldn’t wait for me to get there. Maybe it’s the bellman uniform or the way he swung open my car door like the queen was about to exit, but somehow I immediately got caught up in the moment. I emerged from the vehicle with the grace of a 1940s movie goddess at a premiere. Then came a flurry of activity centered on “Madame’s luggage” (that’s me!). I stood there—rather diva-ish—while the back of the car was unloaded. When I saw my big suitcase come out, I sincerely wished I had made the extra effort of getting the tote bag that matches my luggage off the high shelf of my closet rather than using what was handy. I looked away as my bellman then pulled my grandson’s Spongebob Squarepants duffle out of the trunk.

I proceeded to the main lobby to check in. I wish the world still talked to you like they do at the front desk of nice hotels. They said my name over and over, prefaced by “Miss”, and made it sound nearly like music. I love that. They asked me all sorts of yummy questions about what my needs and choices might be during my stay. This is pretty fantastic stuff in a world where the only time anybody ever inquires as to what I prefer is in regard to what kind of dressing I would like on my salad or whether I would like paper or plastic at the market.

Next came the really thrilling part. My luggage and I were escorted to my room. Then came that moment when the bell guy puts the key in the door and I got to view my new surroundings for the first time. I don’t know what it is, but I always have childish anticipation.

My bellman left and finally I was alone. You’d think I grew up in a cave the way I take in every little feature of my hotel room with such amazement. The bed... how DO they get those sheets so white and wrinkle-less? Do they use a pump on the pillows? My pillows at home never had that much pouf.

Not everything at fancy hotels makes sense, however. The honor bar is completely confounding. Where do all those little teeny tiny bottles of liquor come from? Are they delivered in a little tiny truck, do you think? And who prices this stuff? Obviously, it’s someone who never goes to the grocery store. If I can get a 12 pack of Coke for three bucks, do they really think that I would ever be thirsty enough to pay $5 a can? This is all so curious when you can go into the bathroom and see all the fabulous things that they give you for free. Expensive shampoo and conditioner, body wash that smells like ginger, emery boards, sewing kits, and mouthwash to keep me minty fresh during my stay. Although I didn’t appreciate it at first, I do want to thank the hotel staff for always including a shoe shine cloth. My flip flops have never looked better.

When you stay at upscale hotels enough, you learn to ask for special things. After all, they want you back and they are there to please. I love getting up late and I learned this great trick from my rich girlfriend. She taught me to request an extended check out time for my last morning. I don’t set the alarm and the goal is to wake up when I wake up. I always feel so “VIP” when they grant me a longer time to sleep while the other poor fools are forced to check out at the posted time and stand in line. I just wish my rich friend had also taught me to ask the front desk to notify the maid about my plans to sleep in. I never remember until I am awakened from my beauty sleep by a loud KNOCK followed by someone yelling “HOUSEKEEPING!” only a few feet from my bed.

Staying in luxury hotels and seeing how the other half lives always makes me think of what it would be like to live like this all the time. I think I could get used to daily maid service, round-the-clock food being delivered, sumptuous surroundings, and a staff that treats me like the Queen of Sheba. But then I think... if I did this all the time, it wouldn’t be special anymore and that would be a shame.

Suddenly, I started to feel sorry for rich people. If you are so rich that you can have everything, what on earth can delight you? I doubt if it’s little shampoos or chocolates that are left on the pillow. How sad not to be able to appreciate the little things.

And how do the hotels meet the expectations of these people who have it all? Are their bathtubs filled with French champagne? Do acrobats from the Cirque de Soleil deliver their extra towels? What do they get?

I am glad that I still get excited over silly little things. It makes life so much more fun. If I were rich, I wouldn’t have gotten so excited over finding a $10 bill in my jeans when I was doing laundry the other day. OK, I suppose if I were rich, I wouldn’t be doing my own laundry.

I heard that Madonna (or some lady celebrity) requires someone to go ahead of her and drop rose petals before she enters a room. That’s very dramatic, but I wouldn’t trade it for the supermarket flowers (with the price sticker still on) that I sometimes get from people I love on the spur of the moment.

See what I am saying? You lose a lot when you have too much. Being jaded can’t be good. I think it is better to still love the little things in life. They thrill you each time they happen. These events never have to be topped or get bigger. It’s always good.

So write me and tell me about the small things that happen in your lives that give you joy over and over again. And, if you are crazy rich, tell me what the biggest and best thing that happened to you recently. Or if you prefer, instead of emailing me, you can hire a skywriter to fly over my office and let me know. Your choice, darling.