Remember the quote I shared from the book - How to be Parisian Wherever You Are? Once you reach a certain stage in life "You have the face that you deserve."
Turns out it was a Coco Chanel quote. I just love it.
When I was a kid and behaving poorly or pouting about something you could always see it on my face. My mom would warn: "Be careful, the wind might change and your face will stay that way." I suppose she was really saying the same thing that Coco Chanel was saying. You'll eventually get the face that you deserve.
On that note, I want to share another great weekend quote with you... Especially if you're maybe feeling, shall we say, less than youthful...
"Enjoy the face you have today. It's the one you'll wish you have ten years from now."
Ain't that some truth right there.
Hope yours was a fabulous weekend.
xo
Shan
Good morning my pretties,
I have no idea where this post is going to go today so lemme suggest that you strap in, it might be a bumpy ride.
You know, one of the amazing things about making laps around the sun (or collecting birthdays if you prefer) is the fact that you get to have experiences. You can make choices and if you find you're unhappy or things are not quite working out, or you're just tired and bored, you're free to reinvent yourself. Just look at Madonna... Don't cry for her Argentina!
When I was twenty-four, I was working on a cruise ship where I met a woman who was then, just a year older than I am now and I couldn't believe some of the shit she'd done in her short life.
Hey, how come when I was 24 I thought she was young, but now I'm nearly her age I feel old? That is bang out of order and a massive note to self! Forties are still cool baby! But I digress.
She was a hair stylist. Maybe that doesn't sound all that glamorous, but she was running a spa on a ship so... She'd opened a salon in Pakistan and had been developing her own line of hair care while there, but had to escape under the cover of night with nothing but her young daughter and the clothes on their backs! She'd been married four times, lived in Illinois, Florida, Colorado, California, the above mentioned Pakistan, she'd taken care of her sister as her sister died of aids, she'd broken her neck while skydiving (no kidding!), learned to fly a helicopter, the list goes on. I mean to tell you that there was nothing this woman was afraid of. She'd gotten a scary health diagnosis at the age of 33 and was determined to live the fullest life she could. She was a survivor and a fighter and a chameleon and my best friend. She died on a Superbowl Sunday when she was 55. Trust Jax to cross-over on a big and unforgettable kind of day, but not the kind of day that would ruin you forever like Christmas or Valentine's Day. She was just that awesome.
Wow, talking about her and remembering her kinda makes the rest of what I wanted to write about today feel rather insignificant. You can totally feel free to stop reading here and just take away the message to live the life you've been given if you like.
Or keep reading because I'd like to talk about reinvention or better still, rejuvenation.
Both seem to be the themes of late. Shrugging out of the old scratchy life that no longer fits and trying to find a comfy cozy one that does. I am attempting to step up and define what it is I want career-wise. Not to 'redefine' myself exactly, but finally make the transition between the emerging (read: struggling) artist and the professional working writer.
Let's be honest, I'd like to get paid for it, people!
For one reason or another, I thought the answer to the question or the solution to the problem might lie behind the doors of my closent. I began rummaging around in there and realized that I was basically still dressing like the newbie writer. Still more or less dressing like a college student. I mean come on, for years the only store I shopped at was American Eagle Outfitters.
I'll admit, denim, hoodies and beach hair still really appeal to me. I'll never be able to fully give that up. But if I want to be taken seriously, perhaps I should be looking more toward the classic beauties that I admire and want to be like. Yeah, yeah, I know... Lena Dunham and Diablo Cody were in my last post and as mentioned... both get or have gotten naked professionally... SO NOT what I'm talking about.
I adore the timeless style and beauty of Audrey Hepburn, Lauren Hutton, the young but stunning Emma Watson, and of course my fave, Norma Kamali.
Oh look! There she is with Tracy Anderson, my other favorite lady. (Norma's the one in the gorgeous cateye glasses and fabulous shoes!)
I started pulling out sweatshirts and old jeans, T-shirt after T-shirt, and track pants.
I needed to do something. So I came up with a modest budget and I hit the street. More to the point, I hit H&M, because lets face it, the street around here is Robson and it can get a lil expensive. I had chosen some classic looking pieces online before going so I wouldn't get distracted and I set out to polish up my personal style.
My sister would have been so proud of me, I found sweaters for $7, $10 AND $14, Leggings for $11. I'm not suggesting that these things are going to last forever, but they will help to transition me as I go into meetings and try to behave like a big girl and get a big girl job. I got one more item than I'd planned and came in UNDER budget! H&M I heart you. You're my new best store.
I brought my bag of goodies home and needed to make room. I dug further into my closet and drawers and began building a pile. He Who Shall Not Be Named walked in during this process and offered to help. He felt confident that he'd be able to help me rid myself of outdated attachments. So I took him up on the offer, until he began going through the discard pile saying things like: "You can't get rid of this Brazil T-shirt, you wore that in your film school video, or I remember you in this from when we were in Cuba, you're not giving that away are you?" He was banished shortly thereafter.
One bag in and five bags out! I took shoes, sneakers, hats, bags and clothing to the donation box in the pouring rain. It was like a poetic scene from a movie!
Oh, do you remember the scene in Breakfast at Tiffany's where Holly Golightly is out in the pouring rain desperately searching the al for Cat?
It was like that, but with less tears and less hugging. Okay it wasn't like that at all, but I got that soaked and now I have room in my drawers and closet for my new things.
It was my call to the universe saying: "I'm ready!"
And I finally feel it. Deep in my bones. I was always plagued with feelings of less-than and not experienced enough. I'm officially letting that go. While I know there are plenty of writers whose talents far exceed my own, I have some experience and a thimble full of talent. I've put in the time. I've kept my nose to the grindstone and it's starting to pay off. I've made the film, won the award, written the new series... bring it on.
With laps around the sun comes skill, practical knowledge, experience and a measure of confidence. Confidence not the bravado that can sometimes come with the foolhardiness of youth. I am confident that I can do the job I've set out to do and I am taking the steps... one at a time... toward it.
That journey toward the life you've always imagined begins with a single step, or a trip to H&M, or an overhaul of the closet. What have you always dreamed of doing? Or being? Or having? Is there a way for you to more fully embody that desire? Can you look the part? Isn't there a saying? Fake it till you make it? Well alright then! We got this.
xo
Shan
Hey, happy Saturday lovelies. Whatcha doing this weekend? Going to the movies? Hitting the gym? Hanging out in your PJ's reading a good book? I've just read an unusual book by the creator of the HBO hit series GIRLS, Lena Dunham. Her book's called Not That Kind of Girl, a Young Woman Tells You What She's "Learned".
I was super curious to read it because Lena, (I hope she doesn't mind me calling her Lena) has created, writes on, acts in, and runs her own show. I want to be her! Except the part about acting and getting naked, I don't really want to do that.
Actually, I'd always said that I wanted to be Diablo Cody, Oscar-winning-writer of the fab film JUNO. And she started out as a stripper. Yikes. I hope there's not some subconscious fetish happening here. Could nudity and short hair be in my future??
Or!! Or maybe if I cut my hair and take my clothes off in some kind of public forum I'll finally find the success I so deeply desire?!? Nah, think I'll keep my tresses and my trousers... for now. Anyway this isn't about me, it's about the book. If you're looking for a proper review, you might want to look elsewhere. Plenty of critics have given their two-cents. I want to talk about my experience and impressions of Not That Kind of Girl.
I had hoped that by reading the book, I might gain some insight into Lena Dunham's success, I might uncover some secret or trick that would be an "aha" moment, or that I'd find the next Nora Ephron. Okay first of all, Nora is simply one of a kind and totally irreplaceable, but if I ever get to have breakfast with Lena I am going to live vicariously through her but sucking out every last one of her favorite and best Nora Ephron stories. Let that be a warning to you Lena!
But here's the thing about expectations. In any situation, the higher your expectation, the greater your chance of disappointment. However, if you leave a little wriggle room you might also make way for surprise, delight, humor, and plain old silly fun. So while on the one hand, I don't feel like I uncovered the secret to success or even that I know the writer any more or better than I did before reading the book - (she can be surprisingly forthcoming while not sharing a damned thing!) - I felt my affections for her grow in spite of feeling confused by her. I get that I'm not her target audience and we couldn't possibly be more different. She grew up in New York, child of wealthy artists, the New York Times did a story on her when she was a teenager, so she's no stranger to the spotlight, she's well educated and lots younger. I'm a mixed background kid from the freezing cold prairies of Saskatchewan who never even had cable much less went to an art opening or fancy college.
At the start of the book, I was like, I don't get it. If she hates herself so much, how is it that she's able to put herself out there like that? When I've had bouts of self-hatred I couldn't get out of bed. I stopped trying to understand her and decided instead to just go with it. Just read it for the pleasure of reading. This was no ordinary memoir. It isn't the story of her life thus far. The book is a collection of essays that hold memories, observations, and feelings about various subjects that most girls and women think about -- sex, diet, self-discovery, growing up. I decided it was like taking a sordid sneak peek into the diary of a teenager and I went with it. That's when I really began to rather enjoy it.
She made me laugh, especially in section II of the book - BODY.
She writes: "When I was born I was very fat for a baby - eleven pounds (which sounds thin to me now). I had three chins and a stomach that drooped to one side of my stroller. I never crawled, just rolled, an early sign that I was going to be resistant to most exercise and any sexual position that didn't allow me to relax on my back."
Much of the book felt like an extension of the show but that's okay because I have a theory. This is complete and total conjecture on my part, but I believe that she wrote the book for two simple reasons, both of which make her even more smart and clever than I already knew she was! The first reason of course is the huge advance. Who the hell could say no to 3.5 million? I could retire on that. Imagine it. I could just take all the essays (blog posts) written in my blog Mastering The Method and roll them into a book, get 3.5 mill and set sail for Tahiti where I'd never be heard from again! Ah, bliss.
And two? She had something very real to say! Something very real and incredibly important that needed to be addressed and brought into the light for all the women and underlings in Hollywood who have ever been taken advantage of, shit on, made to feel less than, used, abused, objectified and morally and mentally raped! (my words of course not hers). And she managed to say it beautifully, much bolder and brassier than I ever could have between pages 197 and 202. If you never buy the book or have no desire to read it, at least pick it up and read those pages.
She couldn't have gotten away with writing a whole book about it (not yet, but just you wait until she's 80 boy, then she's gonna let em have it!) because the critics would have eaten her alive and she'd probably never work again, but it was fair warning to the scoundrels. She's saying - baby, I've got your number. Some day I'm gonna be kicking ass and taking names but until then, I'll just laugh all the way to the bank.
She buried this little gem in cutesie camp stories and sexual misadventures so that those not looking too closely could just write her off, saying "oh it's more of the same," and they'd not notice how sharp and cool, how witty and intelligent she really is. So "they" wouldn't feel truly threatened. And she pulled it off with flying colors. You go girl!
xo
Shan
