What would Audrey do?

Is there anyone more elegant and perfectly lovely as Audrey Hepburn? She is the epitome of grace, beauty and compassion. What an amazing woman she was.
 

I recently read a book called "What Would Audrey Do?"

Though on-camera she was often cast in the role of a carefree ingénue, Audrey Hepburn’s off-camera life was marked by challenges: growing up without a father and with the Nazi threat during her youth; a demanding film career while she was a young mother; unfaithful husbands and two divorces; and constant scrutiny from the media. Yet Audrey Hepburn always epitomized beauty and grace. Bestselling author Pamela Keogh culls lessons in loveliness from a woman who survived every setback with panache.

Topics include:
• Dating and romantic advice from a woman who enjoyed romances with John F. Kennedy, William Holden, and Albert Finney
• A primer on what made Audrey the icon she is today, and how to apply her style choices to twenty-first-century clothes, makeup, and accessories
• Raising children, raising husbands, and making home life balanced in every way
• St. Audrey: Long before Angelina and Bono got all the press, Audrey Hepburn did invaluable work for UNICEF, teaching us much about extending ourselves to others.
In an era fraught with selfishness, artifice, and sensational headlines, the reality and tranquillity of Audrey is precisely what the world needs now.

Even though it's a tongue-in-cheek sort of book, it actually has a lot to offer in terms of creating a mindset of loveliness. She was an amazing woman.

Her work with UNICEF was extraordinary. She could have done anything with her life in her later years. She chose to visit places like Ethiopia, the Sudan, El Salvador, Bangladesh and Vietnam on behalf of UNICEF. She spent an enormous amount of time helping to raise funds. About her work for UNICEF, Audrey would say: 'I've been auditioning my whole life for this role, and I finally got it.' She attained everything that society today tells us is important. She had fame, beauty, succcess.  She was Givenchy's muse for 40 years, dressed in the most gorgeous clothing imaginable.  What did she do with this incredible profile she created? She used it to help children and to make the world a better place.  That is beauty.

I just adore Audrey Hepburn - truly beautiful, inside and out.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss

I love this book by Dr Suess.  Besides being clever and poetic and silly and funny and a bit crazy it really is inspirational.

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You’re off to Great Places!

You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.

 
Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

You’ll be on your way up!

You’ll be seeing great sights!

You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t.

Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

The Waiting Place

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

No! That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!

So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So…get on your way!

I'm a whinger

I admit it. I’m a whinger.

I get cranky when I’m cold. I like my cup of tea in the morning, prepared just so and if I can’t have it, I get crabby. I’m particular about the most stupid stuff. I like things done a certain way and if someone or something prevents that, well, I get irritated. I like my sleep.

I don’t appreciate the good things in my life the way I should. I know in my heart that I am one of the lucky ones. I have a roof over my head and food on the table and a good job and a car and most importantly, a healthy, happy child. I have amazing friends and a great life. I live in a time where as a woman I have equal rights, where I have access to medical treatment for my family as I need it. There is fresh water and plentiful food available. I’m not subjected to violence and I don’t live in fear. I am so very, very lucky. I wish I could find a way to feel that every day; really feel it, really appreciate it.

I talk to my daughter about how lucky we are a lot. I tell her about the enormous number of people in the world who have no food, no home and no family. This morning she was complaining about having to go to school. I explained that although it doesn’t feel like it, she is lucky to be able to go to school. She is lucky to be in a clean, warm school uniform with a bag full of pencils and books and a lunch box filled with tasty snacks for the day. She has a bottle of clean water. She has all her friends to hang out with all day. And at the end of the day, the bell rings and she comes out of her classroom and straight into my arms for a kiss and cuddle. Lucky alright! When she gets home there is a snack, a place to do homework and then a nice dinner and television to watch. Then, at bedtime she has a warm, cosy bed to climb into.

I need to remind myself of all of this too. Mondayitis is bullshit really for most of us. I woke up this morning wishing I could sleep in, not rush and have a leisurely morning. I was crabby. After I had finished my little lecture to my daughter about being grateful for what we have I realised I needed to take a leaf out of my own book. Here is I was, driving to work in my late model car to a nice job that pays me a fair wage. I am treated with respect by my colleagues and the work is manageable. I work school hours. I eat a nice lunch at my desk and I can grab a cuppa whenever I want to. People here are nice and we have the odd laugh. I can listen to music during the day if I want to. My desk faces out the window and my outlook is pleasant. It is warm and comfortable. So really, what the hell do I have to complain about? And yet I do. I am a whinger, especially on a Monday.

I try to watch this video “Miniature Earth” regularly just to give myself a bit of a slap over the head. I need to snap out of it. I really do.

If we could turn the population of the earth into a small community of 100 people, keeping the same proportions we have today, it would be something like this...

God's Facebook

What is a hero?

There has been a bit of talk lately about what constitutes a hero. 

Frequently we see the word applied to sports people.  Recently there was a kerfuffle about Cadel Evans.  One social commentator got herself into a world of trouble by questioning whether his Tour De France win was in fact, heroic.  Her comments opened a heated debate about what constitutes a hero and whether we give too much attention to sports people and their efforts.

The dictionary defines a hero as “someone of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his/her brave deeds and noble qualities”.   If we are talking courage, ability, bravery and nobility, I suppose anyone who challenges themselves and succeeds, regardless of whether their motivation is altruistic or self-interested, could technically be called a hero. 

I personally don’t think we need to be stingy with the word.  Heroes can be found in all walks of life and what inspires one person may not inspire or even interest another.  Rather than engage in an argument about who is or is not a hero, I think we should spend more time recognising those amongst us who truly are heroes.  Let’s throw the word around a bit more I say.  Not so that its impact is diluted but so that, as a nation, we can broaden our views and acknowledge more everyday heroes.

I am thinking right now about people like the aged care workers.  It could be argued that they are simply doing a job, because they need to work.   No doubt, being paid a wage and being able to support themselves and their families is a driving force for them.  However, when you see the work they do, the conditions many of them work in and the pathetic wages most of them earn, you realise that they are community heroes.

I saw this first hand when my Dad was in the final years of his life, living in a high care nursing home.  Anyone who has visited a nursing home like this knows what I’m talking about.  It smells.  It’s noisy.  Often you see elderly people, suffering from dementia, behaving in ways that are undignified, doing things they would be mortified by in their right minds.  It’s sad.  It is hard, hard work caring for our elderly.  It is thankless.  They get abused by patients and families alike.  Everyone is under stress.  Everyone is sad.  The conditions are lousy in most cases.  The pay is crap.  These people, in the main, show compassion and patience in the face of all this.  They clean up faeces.  They mop up vomit.  They help people bathe.  They brush people’s teeth.  They feed those who cannot feed themselves.  It’s a job MOST of us couldn’t or wouldn’t do.  To me, these people are heroes and I thank God for them.  I hope that there are heroes around like this when my time comes.

I know there are loads of people who can be called heroes - some are sportspeople, some are doctors, some are teachers, some are fire fighters, some carers of disabled children.  To my way of thinking, the word “hero” is big enough to encompass all these people.  Instead of engaging in ridiculous arguments about what constitutes a hero, let’s use the word a bit more and recognise heroes in all walks of life.

Modern Art

Anna's Ruin - A Short Story

Anna had fallen in love with Daniel almost the moment she met him.  They had been introduced by friends at a party and the attraction was immediate.  Anna thought he was gorgeous and after four years together, she loved him more than ever.  He was ‘the one.’  Daniel was the perfect boyfriend; kind, hardworking and a complete gentleman.  He was everything a girl could dream of.  They had agreed not to live together before they were married.   Daniel always wanted to do the ‘right thing’.  She loved his old fashioned values. ‘No wonder he chose to be an accountant,’ Anna would think, ‘he loves to dot those i’s and cross those t’s!’ 

While Anna’s neatly furnished studio apartment was small, she didn’t mind.  She knew she wouldn’t be living there forever.  Soon Daniel would propose and then they could begin their life together; in their own home.  It was as if she was waiting for her real life to begin.

Daniel shared a house nearby with a group of mates and his beloved Jack Russell Terrier, Monty.  The share house had been chosen with Monty in mind.  ‘There has to be room for Monty to run around.  It’s his house too.’ Daniel had raised Monty from a pup and they were inseparable.  Anywhere Daniel went, Monty came too.  Anna knew all too well that life with Daniel was a package deal.  Monty was always going to be part of the equation. 

When Anna turned 30 she was certain that Daniel would ask her to marry him.  She had fantasised for so long about how he would propose.  On bended knee he would tell her how much he loved her and how happy she made him.  He would ask her to marry him in front of all her family and friends and she would fall into his arms.  She could feel the prickle of happy tears every time she imagined the scene. 

The huge birthday party, months in the planning, had come and gone without a proposal, a ring or even a mention of marriage.  Anna was devastated.  Swallowing her disappointment, she maintained her happy disposition with Daniel.  They never discussed it.    She just couldn’t bring herself to talk to Daniel about it.  He had to want to marry her. There was no point in pushing him.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.  They had been together for four years and they loved each other didn’t they? What was the problem?  Would he ever ask her to marry him or was he happy for them to stay this way forever?

She had seen most of her friends, one by one, get married.  She had been a bridesmaid more times than she cared to remember.  Now the procession of babies had begun.  She tried to be gracious about it, attending baby showers and cooing over newborns but she was quietly becoming envious.  ‘So, you’ll be next!’ her friends would say.  ‘When are you and Daniel going to tie the knot?’ well meaning relatives would ask.  The pressure was coming from every angle, but mostly from within Anna’s own mind.  She didn’t want to rush him but how long was he going to take?

Anna had spent the better part of her twenties building a career at the magazine but being an editorial assistant at ‘Flare’ wasn’t enough anymore.  Sure, she loved the buzz of the fashion industry and working for such a successful magazine but she wasn’t satisfied.  There were great career opportunities ahead but right now she wasn’t thinking about that.  She wanted the house and the husband and the kids and she wanted them now.

It seemed to Anna that after her birthday Daniel had begun to retreat from her.  He started to work longer hours.  He was preoccupied.  The more Anna tried to draw Daniel out, the more she felt he moved back.  His mind was elsewhere. 

Her workmates had shared her disappointment when the birthday proposal had not eventuated.  Why wasn’t Daniel talking about marriage?  It was a hot topic around the water cooler.  ‘He just seems so distant these days.  He works crazy hours and he never takes me out to nice places anymore. I think he’s falling out of love with me.’ she told her friends.  ‘Are you sure he isn’t seeing someone else?’ said one.  ‘Don’t say that! Of course he isn’t Anna, don’t listen to her. Daniel isn’t like that!’ said another.  But Anna began to wonder. 

Daniel had always been so thoughtful and romantic.  For the first few years he would send roses almost every week.  That had stopped.  There were no romantic dinners or surprise weekends away like before.  They barely saw each other during the week with Daniel working late most nights.  By the weekend he was tired.  ‘Maybe he has met someone else.’ she thought and her heart sank.

Anna began to obsess.  Daniel had always been the ideal partner; kind, caring and respectful.  He had never given her any reason to doubt him, ever.  Something had changed though and Anna couldn’t figure out what and why.  She was filled with suspicion.  Whenever she questioned him about all the overtime he would say that he was under pressure at work.  If he wanted to get ahead he simply had to work these hours.  Unconvinced, she started to secretly check his mobile for unfamiliar phone numbers and suspect text messages.  It was driving her crazy.  She despised herself for not trusting him but by now she was completely paranoid.  What was going on?  She had to know.  What had changed?  Anna knew that she couldn’t ask Daniel outright.  It seemed so childish when she thought about trying to discuss her fears with him.

When Daniel called late one Friday afternoon to cancel their plans to see a movie that night she was distraught.  ‘I have to work late, I can’t help it Anna, I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll call you tomorrow’ he said.  Anna could tell from his voice that he was uneasy.  She didn’t believe him.  She waited twenty minutes and then called his office.  ‘Hi, it’s Anna here, may I speak to Daniel please?’ she said, attempting to sound bright.  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I just saw him rush out of here. He said he had to meet someone. You could try his mobile.’ said the receptionist.   She knew it! He had lied to her!  He was seeing someone else!  Her heart was beating wildly.  She instantly felt nauseous.  Suddenly physically helpless, she collapsed onto the couch and began to cry.

Hours passed.  Anna lay on the couch, alternating between despair and anger.  Finally, at midnight, she grabbed her car keys, flung her jacket on and slammed the front door behind her.  She was going to drive by Daniel’s house.  She had to know if he was home.  As Anna drove into his street, she turned the headlights off.  The last thing she wanted was to be spotted by a housemate or worse still, Daniel, driving past at this time of night.  As she drew near to the house, she peered through the inky shadows.  There it was, his car, parked in the driveway.  ‘So, he’s home’ she thought.  ‘Maybe she’s there with him now!’  Her heart twisted in anguish. 

Just as she pulled away from the house, something suddenly dashed in front of her car.  Before she could hit the brakes, it bounced off her front bumper and disappeared under the vehicle.  ‘What the hell was that?’ she screamed.  It looked like a small animal, maybe a possum or a cat?  Whatever it was, she knew she couldn’t stop.  There was no way she could let Daniel or his housemates see her there.  Panicking, she accelerated out of the street.  She stole a look in the rear vision mirror.  ‘Oh my God, what have I done?’ she whispered.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably as she drove home.  She jerked the car into the parking space and flew out to check the bumper.  The sizeable dent splashed with blood told Anna that she had definitely hit something and most likely killed it.  ‘This must be rock bottom’ she thought, grasping her head with her hands.  ‘I’ve lost Daniel and now I’ve done this.’  Disgusted with herself, she washed off the blood and staggered back inside.  Despondent and ashamed she crawled into bed.

Anna woke to the phone ringing.  ‘Hi, it’s me. I need to see you.  I’ll come by in half an hour to pick you up, ok?’ said Daniel apprehensively.  ‘Well, this is it’ Anna thought.  ‘He’s going to break up with me.  He’s going to tell me he’s in love with someone else.’  She showered and dressed like someone headed to the gallows.

Daniel arrived looking disheveled.  His eyes were puffy and red.  He looked as if he had been crying.  ‘He feels guilty about what he has to do’ she decided.

‘Let’s go down to the beach’ Daniel suggested.  They drove in silence.  The beach had been their special place.  They would often bring Monty down and spend hours walking, playing and swimming.  There were so many great memories she had of their days at the beach.  Anna wondered why Daniel was spoiling that now, bringing her here to end things.

They parked and Daniel led her along the sand.  Then he stopped.  ‘Let’s sit here.  I need to talk to you.’  Anna sank down into the sand, wishing more than anything that she didn’t have to endure this inevitably heartbreaking speech.

‘I know these past few months I haven’t given you the attention I should.  I’m so sorry. There is a reason’ he said. ‘It’s OK Daniel, I know’ Anna blurted out.  ‘No, please let me finish’ he quickly responded.  ‘You know me. I like to do everything just right.  I’ve been working long hours and not spending money because I’ve been saving to get a deposit together for a house, a home for us.  When I ask you to marry me, I want to offer you everything, not just marriage, but a home and a place for us all, including Monty.’  Anna’s mind was racing. What was he saying?  Daniel continued, ‘Well, I found the perfect place.  Look behind you.’  As she turned, she saw they were sitting directly in front of a gorgeous beach cottage, one she had admired many times before.  It had a ‘for sale’ sign in the yard with a big red ‘sold” sticker across it.  ‘It came on the market a few weeks ago and I’ve had a hell of a time negotiating with the damned real estate agent.  That’s where I was last night.  I had to sign the papers and hand over the deposit.’ 

‘Daniel, that’s, that’s wonderful’ Anna gushed.  She had been crazy thinking he was unfaithful.  Of course he loved her.  Of course he would propose.  She thought how ridiculously she had behaved.  She was instantly, unimaginably happy.  Relief flooded through her.  ‘Thank goodness.  It’s all over now. I can relax and we can get on with our lives. How silly I was!’ she thought.

‘The only trouble is, it’s all ruined now.’ Daniel began to breakdown. ‘Last night someone ran over Monty and left him to die in the street.  It happened right in front of my house, Anna!’  Anna was horrified. ‘I can’t buy this cottage now.  It was going to be a place for Monty.  This beach has too many memories now.  Every time I look out the window I will see him running along the beach, chasing sticks, playing.  I’m sorry Anna, but I just can’t do it now.  It isn’t the right time for us to get married.  I need time to get over Monty.  I just had to explain everything to you.  I’ve seen the agent this morning and withdrawn my offer.’  Then his voice darkened and he looked directly into Anna’s eyes.   ‘I can tell you one thing for sure though. I am going to find the bastard that did this to Monty and when I do, they are going to pay.’ 

Anna knew that she had already paid and she would keep paying for the rest of her life.

Are you happy?

I'm breaking up with you Carrie.

I've always been a fan of Sex and the City.  I drifted away a bit in Season 4.  It got a bit too full on for my ocassionally sensitive tastes I think.  When the first film came out I dutifully took myself off to the cinema.  I loved it.  I loved the fashion. I loved the big screen look. I loved Big. I just loved it all.  Then came SATC2.  Never has a film been so keenly anticipated and so instantly reviled.  I hated it.  I hated every single thing about it.  Carrie finally had her man and now all she could do was whinge. It was culturally offensive.  I hated it hard.  The scene I hated most was this one:

Appalling. Just appalling.

So, having watched SATC2 it got me wondering, how did they get it so damned wrong?  How could they have misread their audience so badly?  How could an ensemble of people; artists, performers, writers all of them, miss the mark so  gravely?????

There was no shortage of bad reviews:

"The film's tone-deaf cultural awareness extends to a boozy karaoke rendition of "I Am Woman" which is equal parts naïve/patronising."

"Sex and the City has turned into a bloated juggernaut of pointlessness. Its female characters are now beyond unbearable, none more so than Carrie."

"Sex and the City 2 is the female equivalent of Transformers; a big, dumb blockbuster that doesn't require you to think very hard, if at all ... I mourn the death of four memorable television characters that used to mean something to so many."

"Ignorant, culturally insensitive and unfunny."

Ouch.

Still, over the years, I've watched reruns of the television series, recognising and enjoying the familiar stories over and over again.

Then it happened.  My final assignment for "Text Culture and Society" (yes, it's as rivetting as it sounds) was an analysis of the ideology of Sex and the City.  I was required to choose one episode to analyse specifically.  I chose "The Drought", partly because I love the scene where Carrie talks to Miranda;

"It's something about him. You should see me around him. I'm not like me. I'm like "together Carrie."
I wear little outfits..."sexy Carrie," and "casual Carrie." Sometimes I catch myself actually posing. It's exhausting."

Sadly*, I could relate. 

One ideological belief frequently represented in television is the idea of 'happily ever after', whereby a woman’s ultimate path in life follows a certain pattern;  meeting a man, falling in love, getting married, having a family and living ‘happily ever after’.  The fairy tale model - a princess is rescued by a prince, they fall in love, marry and live 'happily ever after'.

Sex and the City superficially claims to represent an alternative to this ideology.  It depicts the four women as strong, single, independent, intelligent, successful women with unlimited sexual freedom and choice.  In truth, the OPPOSITE is true!  The women’s obsessions with finding a man, maintaining a relationship is the overarching theme of the entire series!

Take “The Drought” for example.  “After weeks sharing a bed, Carrie feels comfortable actually sleeping with M. Big, yet mortified when she farts in bed, but really worried when he stops to want sex every night. It really hits her when he prefers to watch a boxing match to kissing, so she paints her apartment.”  Carrie then spends the rest of the episode depressed and distressed about “the fart” and calls on her friends to advise, support and guide her on how to deal with the “fall out” so to speak….  My question is: How old are these women????? This is feminism????? These are the aspirational women we are presented with on TV????? Two words. Grow up!

The Oxford Dictionary defines patriarchy as ‘a system of society in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it’.  Feminism is ‘the advocacy of women's rights on the ground of the equality of the sexes’.  Sex and the City is a frustrating example of how a show can outwardly claim to be representative of feminist ideology (equality, freedom of choice and independence) while in fact reinforcing certain patriarchal conventions.

For example, Carrie normalises this patriarchal belief that the man holds the power in a relationship.  Carrie is overwhelmed with anxiety that perhaps her ‘fairy tale’ relationship with Big is doomed and seeks the advice of her friends.  Big holds all the power in the relationship. 

When Carrie discusses the fart with Samantha, the most sexually powerful, confident of the four women, Samantha says:

Carrie: I farted.
Samantha:  Then move your mat away.

Carrie:  Not now. I did it in front of Big.
Samantha: Huge mistake

Carrie: (Sarcastically) You think? It wasn't a choice. I'm human. It happened.

Samantha: No, honey, you're a woman, and men don't like women to be human.
We aren't supposed to fart, douche, use tampons or have hair in places we shouldn't.
I mean, hell, a guy once broke up with me because I missed a bikini wax.

As charming as the scene might be on screen, read the words on paper and you can’t help but think, really?  This is how we are encouraged to think and behave in a relationship? 

When Big returns to Carrie at the end of the episode, having waited days to hear from him, Carrie asks sullenly, ‘Why didn’t you call me?’  Big replies incredulously ‘Why didn’t you call me?’  Feminists looking to Sex and the City to authentically reflect their ideology could be excused for asking the same question.

Sex and the City promotes the patriarchal system of representation of the ideal female form.  Thin, white, well dressed and beautiful.   The four characters are all beautiful and obsessively concerned with their physical appearance.  Wearing the most fashionable clothes takes precedence over comfort, cost and affordability.   The four characters are very much defined by their physical appearances.  Their hair colour in particular signifies four distinct personality types.  Miranda has short red hair – the stereotypical temperamental redhead.  Samantha has platinum blonde hair, the stereotypical sex bomb.  Charlotte, the brunette, the stereotypical image of the homemaker and the girl next door.  Far from cutting edge and feminist in its approach, it’s actually rather backward and a tad offensive.  Think about the lack of ethnic diversity too.  The non-white characters tend to be token characters.  And no African Americans in their circle of friends really.

In a sense, I regret having to delve into SATC.  It has really spoilt it for me.  I kind of enjoyed being able to flick on Foxtel and watch an old episode – like visual chewing gum.  Now I know I would just be irritated.



Me and My Hair - A Love Story....not

Me and my hair, we have a tortured relationship.  It has tortured me and in return, I have tortured it.   It’s never been the right colour, the right texture, the right shape. It’s always been frizzy, curly, unruly and mousy brown. We have battled for many years and my hair has almost always won. My “good hair days” have been few and far between.

In my teens I used to attempt to curl it into submission with steam curling wands.

EVERY morning I would spend hours trying to look like this....

But usually ended up looking like this….on a good day

As I got older I tried all sorts of alternatives.

This

(Fail)

And this

Yeah, right, no surprises there....FAIL

I loved Meg Ryan's hair.  I carried this picture in my wallet for years.  Each new hairdresser was handed the worn image as I pathetically uttered the words "I'd like to look like this".  Most of them looked at me patronisingly and just said "Well, Meg Ryan has very different hair to you..."  No sh*t Sherlock.

Then this happened...and I didn't like her hair (or anything about her really) that much anymore.

Then in my thirties I tried going with it and got a perm. Say it with me people MASSIVE FAIL.  What was once frizzy and wiry was now completely dried out, wildly out of control and sporting a case of split ends so bad, looking back it should have been declared a natural disaster.

In my forties I discovered Japanese Thermal Straightening. Basically they apply a solution to your hair, then they iron it flat, basically killing your hairs will to do anything except hang there. Ta da! Straight hair. I loved it.  Sure, huge sections of my hair snapped off at the roots but I was winning the war. Here is the before and after!

In the last couple of years a new process has emerged called Global Keratin Straightening or Brazilian Blowout. There were rumours the solution was carcinogenic but hey, beauty is pain. If the risk of cancer wasn’t enough to deter you, the $250 for a process that lasts about 8 weeks might have. Not me of course.

I also LOVE products. My bathroom cabinet is stuffed with every manner of shampoo, conditioner, leave in conditioner, hair masque, gel, spray, conditioning mousse…. You name I have tried it.  Each one a chance to finally defeat my arch my nemesis, my freaking hair.

A year or so back I watched a great movie called “Friends with Money”. This line just jumped out at me.  It summed me up in just three lines.

“I was obsessed with shampoo. I thought if I could find the right one my hair would be the hair I always wanted. Like, every time I washed it was a new opportunity. A new chance to be pretty.”

I would be happy to have hair like any of these gals. No, actually I would be delirious.

Having great hair is a huge advantage in this world.  It sucks but I believe it's true.

And so it continues. My hair and I fight it out every morning.  The bathroom is our battleground.  I GHD it, I torture it with my Big Hair Rotating Blow Dryer.  I apply every sort of cream and gel I can get my hands on.  I beat and brush and iron it into submission. 

I watch the weather forecast with particular concern.  Not because I am worried about global warming (I am, but that's not why) or because I care about damn levels (I do, but that isn't why either).  If it rains, then all my hard work is in vain.  Rain and humidity are my enemies.  Sadly, my strongest memory of the terrible heat wave of 2002, when fires raged around Sydney, was that my hair never looked better. The air was so dry, there was not a curl or a frizz in sight.  Yes, I am ashamed to say so.   

I will not be surprised if one day my hair just gives up the ghost and falls out altogether.  I may be bald, but even then, I believe I will have a quiet sense of victory. 

No retreat baby, no surrender.

Jeff Bridges is the Dude

Jeff Bridges has starred in some of the biggest movies over the past 40 years, "The Last Picture Show, "The Fabulous Baker Boys," "Tron," "The Big Lebowski," "Crazy Heart," "True Grit," “Sea Biscuit”, “Arlington Road”, “Fearless”, “The Mirror Has Two Faces”, “The Fisher King” and to name just a few. 

I have loved Jeff Bridges long time. 

I think “The Fabulous Baker Boys” was the film that convinced me of his greatness.  He has aged magnificently too.  I am at that age where I can truly appreciate a silver fox.

This week he released an album of original country music and to support that, he’s been doing media rounds in the US.  He appeared on “The Colbert Report” and last week he did “Piers Morgan Tonight”.  The hour long interview was riveting.   He is such a cool guy; so confident and normal and sweet. 

He has been married to wife Susan for 34 years and he talked at length about how they met and how they’ve survived.


"It was, you know, the corny "love at first sight" thing, you know.  I met her on a movie set in Montana. We were making a movie called "Rancho Deluxe."  And I see this girl, gorgeous girl who's watching us. I mean, she looks like she's working there or something.  And she's just gorgeous. I could not take my eyes off her. And she busts me every time, you know, I look at her.

And it's tough asking a girl out. You know, you've got to really, you know, get the courage, you know and I said, would you like to go out tonight?  And she goes, no. It's a small town, maybe I'll see you around. I said, really? She goes, yes.


I said, OK. And her prophecy came true and maybe it might have been that night or the night after that, I saw her in a bar and we danced and, you know, that was it.

And we we cut 20 years later. So I'm married. We've got three kids. I'm sitting at my desk opening my mail. And I got a letter from the makeup man on that show. And he says, I was going through my files and I came across a photograph that might be of interest to you. It's a shot of you asking a local girl out for a date.

And I look at the thing and it's a picture of me asking my wife out for a date.”

Bridges carries the photo in his wallet and calls it his most prized possession.  “The first words that I ever spoke to my wife, asking her out, and her answer we are no.”

Asked “ Why do you think you've been able to have such a happy, sustainable marriage”

Bridges responds, “ Luck, I'm sure, has a lot to do with it. My  parents were very, I was going to say happily, but they went through, you know, unhappy times, too. And I think Sue and I, we've developed a practice of kind of leaning into those tough times, you know, and looking at those as this, oh, here's an opportunity for us to get a lot more intimate, to know a little bit more about each other.”

Lovely. Just lovely. I love the idea of "leaning into those tough times".