The Company You Keep

Last night, my lovely brother took the kids to a show, so Spouse and I went to a movie. We really wanted to see Rust & Bone, but our local arthouse cinema (walking distance, how I love that) is closed for renovations so we ended up at the nearest multiplex, watching Robert Redford's latest, The Company You Keep.


It was OK, but not great. There were some wonderful actors in minor roles and cameos. I did spend much of the second half fascinated by Julie Christie's face. She's admitted to plastic surgery, and most of it is pretty good, but whatever she's done to her lips is just horrible.

As for Robert Redford. Well, I still have a crush on him, even if he is 76 years old. 

Anger Management

I am well aware that retail therapy is often a bad idea. You feel grumpy/anxious/angry/depressed/hungry, so you buy something. Then you feel exactly how you felt before, plus some guilt. At least that's generally my pattern.

Sometimes, however, it works out just fine.

This Etro stretch silk top - purchased on a nobody-loves-me-everybody-hates-me-think-I'll-go-and-eat-worms day - arrived on Monday and it is Just Gorgeous. I hardly ever wear patterns (other than stripes and the occasional polka dot) but because the colours in this one are quite neutral and suit my colouring, it works. And the cut is ridiculously flattering, even on my sausage shaped physique.

I can't wait to wear it ... Black velvet jeans or black tulle skirt?

PS Must keep doing yoga in order to bare arms.

Horrible Bosses

I don't think I've ever had a horrible boss. Mind you, I haven't had that many bosses, since I've been my own boss (and other people's) since I was in my late 20s.

But I have had a couple of great bosses. The best was my first 'real' boss, in my first 'real' job out of university - book editor at a legal publishing firm. Not very glamorous, I know, but how I loved it. My boss was a woman in her 50s who was clever, stylish, demanding and scrupulously fair. She had 4 adult sons and a much younger second husband (a lovely man) - and a cracking sense of humour. After I'd been there just a year, she got me a 35% pay rise (!) - I rewarded her by going freelance so that I could also take up a half-time teaching job at university, and she encouraged me to do so. And when I set up my own business, she sent me so much work that at one point I had 5 staff. I rather think that she regarded me as the daughter she never had. Because we are both somewhat buttoned up English types when it comes down to it - she's Anglo-Irish, I'm Singapore Colonial - I have never told her in person what an amazing mentor and aspiration she was to me, but I did finally write her a letter telling her that a few months ago. 

And today we had lunch for the first time in years. It was wonderful to see her - E is still vibrant, busy, energetic and smart (and she was wearing leopard print jeans - she's in her 70s!! - with a stylish black shirt and a charcoal cashmere scarf).

I hope two things: 1. that I can be something like her when I grow up (whenever that may be) and 2. that my daughter finds inspirational women like E in her life.

Cruel Intentions

Horrifying atrocities happen all over the world, all the time. We become somewhat inured, unless there is a personal element that hits home.

The Boston Marathon bombing has that element for me. I've never been to Boston, but I'm married to a runner who has Boston on his wishlist of marathons - we talked just a couple of weeks ago about when we might get to it. I know and love many runners. I know the excitement of travelling to a great race in a great city, and I know the thrill and anticipation of cheering on the runners and waiting at the finish line. I can only imagine the horror of such a terrorist attack. It seems particularly cruel and cowardly to strike at an event which represents so many hopes and so much hard work.

Pretty Woman

Fortuitously, I have two separate rants (I'm grumpy lately, aren't I?) that both fit nicely under this title.

1. Recently I picked up a copy of More magazine, which featured an article on what it called 'handsome' women and how they're aging fabulously. Supposedly, this is because they weren't conventionally pretty to begin with, and have now grown into their looks. All well and good. But then, note, 'They stay slim and fit and wear fashion that is updated but age appropriate. Most of all, they have a lot of competencies that create confidence and a sense of purpose'. So being Diane Keaton (mentioned) is helpful. And then you look at the photos:


So More is telling me that this woman wasn't always striking?

And this woman's only claim to 'non-conventional' beauty is that she's not blonde. 

I did read the whole article, and this is what I got from it: be thin, be successful (preferably with a shedload of money) and then it won't matter that you don't look like a teenage cheerleader. Gee, that's amazingly helpful.

2. I went into a shop the other day and I felt a little like I was reliving that scene in Pretty Woman where the person in the high end boutique (can't remember which, haven't seen the movie since it first came out) snubs Julia Robert's character because she's a hooker. Of course, I wasn't dressed like a hooker, but I might as well have been. The boutique I went into - genuinely looking for something specific - is a posh little place with pricey imports (double what you'd pay in the US/UK and add some), but a rather nice edit of items. I was looking for a pair of black dress pants. The saleswoman looked at me disparagingly and said 'We don't have anything in your size' and walked off. She was so rude it took my breath away. I'm still trying to work out what I did wrong - did I not look cashed up enough? Was my outfit offensive in some way? Of course, it was probably just the woman having a bad day,  but it was such an unpleasant experience that I will NEVER shop there again.

(un)Happy Feet

Occasionally I treat myself to a manicure, which is generally a silly idea, given my tendency to indulge in cooking, gardening and teaching art to small children. As for pedicures, I normally do these myself. Forcing my horrible feet (not mine above) on strangers seems a little unkind.

However, a few weeks ago a friend gave me a spa voucher for a massage. Unfortunately, I cannot abide strangers touching my skin, so I swapped it for a pedicure, which is about as touchy-feely as I can manage. A very expensive pedicure, I might add.

So off I went yesterday, as a reward for finishing a job. Pedicure was done ('performed'?) like a spa treatment, complete with tedious whale music and dim lighting, and took about 3 times as long as they normally do. I expected my feet - or at least my toenails - to look gorgeous when I finally took off my eyemask.

Well. A blindfolded dipsomaniac with the DTs could have done a better job. Because I'm that sort of person, I couldn't actually bring myself to say to the girl 'this is shocking, how can you charge money for a job like this?', but I went straight home and took off the polish and deeply regretted that wasted hour of my life ...

The mani/pedi chains with the terse Chinese girls (Korean in the US?) may have the ambience of battery farms, but at least they do the job properly, for a decent price.

So, that's my First World Problem of the Week.