Current Obsession – Page 37

July 6, 2014

'Cute' Is A Four-Letter Word

If there is one thing I hate, it’s being called cute.
OK, ‘hate’ is a strong word. Although so is ‘love’, and we have no problem flinging that one about. Maybe not hate. Loathe, despise, abhor…

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who automatically react aggressively to receiving compliments. Unless it’s ‘cute’. Because ‘cute’ is not a compliment, not unless you’re under five.
Baskets of kittens are cute. Puppies are cute. Babies are cute (when not, as Shakespeare put it, “mewling and puking”).

This is cute:

Unless you’re Cruella de Vil, in which case it’s fabulous, and would look so good on me, don’t you think? Speaking of Cruella de Vil, in the book she insisted on all food being peppered – including ice-cream – and still somehow got married. Married!

Anyway. Back to the puppies. (Daww….) Ahem.
I don’t mind if people want to use the word ‘cute’, it is, as they say, a perfectly cromulent word. But it applies to some things and not to others, or it loses all meaning. Sweet little juveniles (of whatever species): cute. Lady eccentrics who have attained years of discretion: not cute.

The reason this is weighing on my mind is that my hair isn’t. About 75 grams worth, in fact, lopped off by the hairdresser. If that doesn’t give you a clear picture (and why would it?) think 50cm. Or just under 20 inches.

I now look something like this:

except, of course, different: messy instead of glossy, no make-up, and a smile (I seem to smile more with short hair – don’t know why). Definitely Not Cute. Short curly hair may be considered cute on a toddler, but not on a grown woman, even if a touch round-faced and an inch or two below the average height.

Is there something you hate to be called? Soi-disant endearments, diminutives (don’t get me started) or nicknames? Tell all!

June 27, 2014

A Short Sharp Chop

I have never been to a hairdresser.
In fact, I’ve been wearing my hair the same way (a single plait) for well over half my life. After I married I started coiling the plait into a bun, but that’s about it. And now I’m thinking it might be time for a change.

Being a very low-maintenance kind of person – my ‘beauty routine’ consists almost entirely of beauty sleep – I’m tempted to go short. Short enough that it can’t get into my mouth. (And people ask me why I don’t wear my hip-length hair loose…)

But here’s the problem: I have no idea what my hair will look like cut short. The last time I had short hair, I was eight and it was straight – it didn’t go curly til I was in my early teens. That’s why I grew it long, so the weight of hair would keep it pulled out straight(ish). But it’s definitely curly in there: since I started coiling my plait into a bun, I’ve developed vintagey waves on the sides of my head.

There are online ‘virtual makeover’ sites, but short curly brunette styles are seemingly nonexistent. I tried digital doodling on photos of me (results not encouraging, possibly due to lack of artistic ability); also cut-and-pasting likely-looking hairdos found online. (Results suggest I will look like Elvis, which I find hard to believe.)
Unfortunately there’s only one way to be certain of what I will look like with short curly hair: cut it. It’s just that it will take a couple of years to undo…

I’d like something maybe a bit like this:

(minus cigarette, obvs.) but I don’t really look like Joan Crawford. Of course, even if you find a picture of someone with the same kind of face and the same kind of hair, there’s no way of knowing if their style is the result of a good cut and no more, or if it’s the end product of hours of crimping and primping.

These ladies are a little closer to the mark, but I still have my suspicions as to the naturalness of their curl:

On the one hand, I’ve saved myself a stack of time and trouble by not messing about with my hair the last couple of decades; on the other hand, this has left me relatively uneducated on the multifarious complexities of ladies’ hairdressing.

Now, I’ve no intention of going in for colours and flatteners and other expensive ways to damage my hair – partly because I believe in being nice to your hair if you want it to stick around when you’re older and partly because I am heavily in favour of low-maintenance looks.

But I do feel a bit out of my depth here. Possibly this why I’m doing it – to step out of my comfort zone and loosen up my stereotype of myself.
So, any tips, suggestions or advice? Or, if you really must, horror stories of your worst haircut ever!

April 26, 2014

Synchronicity Always Strikes the Same Place Thrice

If, as Holbrook Jackson maintains, your library is your portrait, then surely your public library loans are your latest snapshot.

My list of current loans reflects my recent fascinations with tea (social, cultural, historical, comestible), simplicity, Jane Austen’s times (tea and crime) and Victorian-era New Zealand (mostly crime). I also have books on undertaking and rhetoric, which simply caught my eye as I browsed.

I expected to see wabi-sabi mentioned in the book on the Japanese tea ceremony and it seemed natural to encounter it in one of the books on simplicity. But when it popped up for the third time in the book about modern Canadian undertaking, I was surprised.

My favourite of the three encounters is the essay ‘Wabi-Sabi Time’ by Robyn Griggs Lawrence; in the book Less is More, edited by Cecile Andrews and Wanda Urbanska.
Wabi being notoriously hard to define, she gives a variety of descriptions, including “a little monk in his torn robe, enjoying a night by the fire – content in poverty.”

Sabi is a bit easier to define: it refers to the effect of the passing of time (literally: rust).
Together, the words wabi-sabi conjure a sense of imperfect beauty, tarnished with time, but valued all the more for its age and imperfections.

“Wabibitos live modestly, satisfied with things as they are. They own only what’s necessary for its utility or beauty (ideally, both). They revere humans over machines, surrounding themselves with things that resonate with the spirit of their makers. Wabi-sabi is imperfect: a beloved chipped vase or a scarred wooden table… It’s like going to Grandma’s house.

“Our Depression-era grandmothers knew wabi-sabi. And their houses were so comfortable because they understood, inherently, the difference between wabi [or possibly sabi -DM] and sloppy. Their tablecloths and linens were faded, but they never had rips or tears. Their furnishings had a settled-in quality, but they weren’t dilapidated. Their floors showed wear, but they were always swept, with rag-rugs that wove together memories in their use of old garments.” (Less is More p.160).

I don’t know about you, but that strikes me as a pretty good way to live. Banish perfection, or the illusion of perfection for which we strive; banish the cheap (or expensive) tat which is heading for planned obsolescence, or never had a purpose to begin with. Have little, but take joy in the little you have.

Beauty. Simplicity. Usefulness. Mmm.

Have you been surprised by synchronicity lately? What’s your take on wabi-sabi, or similar concepts? And what do your library books say about you?