A brief interlude

I can't sleep, too excited about my upcoming trip, so I'm listening to music on YouTube. You probably remember that one of my favourite movies is "International Velvet," and listening to the theme from the film always makes me happy. So I listened to it here:




And it suddenly occurred to me to see if the composer of this theme wrote any other music for films.

His name, it turns out, is Francis Lai, who knew? And he wrote this as well:



And this:



Fame is such a strange beast, I had never heard his name before. Why?

Monsieur Lai, you have a place in my heart,

love,

Eleanor x

Can you ever go home?

Tomorrow morning Miss Commentbox and I shall be flying to Israel to celebrate the bar-mitzvah of my brother's son. It'll be a bit of a family reunion as well as a trip down memory lane. My father's Israeli, Mum's American, and I lived in Israel for six years from when I was two until I was eight. So those were formative years in my life, I started school there, learned to read and write and made my first friends and memories. I have very very beautiful memories of my childhood and the nostalgia I feel for those years is immense. I shall not be talking politics in my posts, both because it's so complicated and because I am so ambivalent, also because that's not what this trip is about for me.

To get started here is the song I was listening to way back then - it was a winning entry in the Israeli Children's Music Festival and was THE playground hit that year.

I never thought this day would come

I never thought the day would come that I'd post about my car. I just don't really notice cars, well I didn't until now. Here is my original "Noddy Car" - a Nissan Pulsar which we bought second hand in 1996. It has served me so very well, but lately the entire dashboard sort of came apart, the turn signal started clicking reallyreallyreally fast, and then just when I got used to it the clicking would be slllllooooowwwwwslllooowwwslllloooww, the lights on the radio stopped working so I couldn't see the buttons at night, and every time we took poor Noddy Car for a service we'd end up spending enough money to buy a new car.

It took me an entire year to agree to purchase a new car, I just had no interest in doing the research and then spending such a huge amount of money. But sometimes it's cheaper to buy a new car than to keep repairing a wreck (sniff, Noddy Car, I still love you). So behold my Honda CRV in Sparkle Grey. I ended up buying the one car I always swore I wouldn't - yep, the kind of car petite blond Eastern Suburbs housewives drive(those of you who live in Sydney, you know what I mean).

Please note that I'm posing in two different pairs of jeans. Yep, I also swore way back when that I would never wear jeans again. How the mighty have fallen.

What do I love most about my new car? Being so high up, the brakes really working, the bluetooth phone system (had to get a new phone for that, my circa 1995 phone wasn't making the grade. Powder blue plastic, if you're wondering), and the CD player. I have never had a CD player (I know it's all about plugging in your iPod, but I'm taking it one step at a time). So I grabbed a CD, which happened to be Jennifer Lopez, I had forgotten I had it, and blasted it as I drove around aimlessly for an hour.

This is the song on the JLo CD which I had forgotten about, oh how I loved this song in 2001. My favourite aerobics instructor at the local gym would play it and teach us a routine. "Get ready for the chorus ladies, and cha-cha-cha."

Oh, and I wore my Dior foundation and new lipstick, and I swear the combination of makeup and new car took a good ten years off my age.

P.S.
Stay tuned, I'm off to attend my nephew's bar-mitzvah in Israel next week, and if all goes well I'll blog about it.

Eternal youth

Is beauty synonymous with youth?

I've been researching make-up for a project I'm working on at the moment, and it suddenly hit me that the cosmetics industry is geared towards a youth-obsessed marketplace. It's all about looking younger, minimizing wrinkles and age-spots, camouflaging the body's natural ageing process for as long as you can get away with it. How did I not notice this before? I've been living in blissful make-up free isolation apparently.

I suppose I can afford to be so surprised, I'm still in my early forties and I seem to have lucked out by inheriting my mother's wrinkle-free skin, so far anyway. But still, I feel personally offended at the way ad campaigns blatantly target women's biological realities and offer to fix them.

Can I ever be happy with the way I look, naturally, as I age? Or will I always have that nagging thought at the back of my mind that if I only try harder, find the right product, do more, research the options and spend the money...then, I might look more beautiful? I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Then I read this article in Zoe Foster's wonderful blog (one of my favourite Aussie beauty writers, she's so funny and sweet and adorable and ...um...young). The main point of the article is not at all about the ageing process but one particular phrase really caught my attention:

"And kind of ageing, to be honest"

Blake Lively is 23 years old, and yet even SHE should stay away from colours and styles which make her look old?

Is it possible for a woman to wear lovely make-up which makes her look beautiful but also HER OWN AGE? I'd like to think that when I'm 80 I'll be able to put on lipstick which will suit me rather than one which will make me look younger. Or is that a physical and/ sociological impossibility?

And before I leave you can I just add one quick thing? I've noticed that make-up and beauty blogs are all written by women, about women, and for women. It's women commenting on famous women's make-up and then advising "ordinary" women what make-up is best. This industry has absolutely nothing to do with men. I don't think men notice what make-up women wear, but women do. Case in point, I took it as my professional duty to buy some new make-up, for research purposes you understand, and then experiment with it. Miss CB and I had great fun, and I even went so far as to apply foundation (a Dior sample tube which is exquisite and a perfect match to my skin tone and is therefore to be referred to from now on as the HG). But then I stood in front of Mr. CB and asked him if he could see anything different about my face...ummm.....not really (he said this hesitantly). To further prove my point, I had my eyebrows shaped today and I thought that the difference was remarkably enhancing, but Mr. CB was perplexed, he saw absolutely no difference in my eyebrows whatsoever (he said this hesitantly again).

P.S.
HG is Holy Grail, it took me a while to realise that beauty bloggers who were referring to this were not writing about an actual product called "HG."

French scarf-tying

Watching this video is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, and style to your wardrobe.


And her method really works too.







I also love her hair, dress and glasses.

And confidence.

And accent.

Venomous Villains

Wishes do come true - here's the proof:




M.A.C. and Disney have joined forces to create the perfect make-up for me.





The key to wearing this collection is "straight up confidence".

I'm working on it.

From over the fence

The nanny next door popped by this morning to borrow my kitchen scales. Her two charges (Mr. Man 4 and Missy Moo 3) were at preschool for the day and she had promised them that when they return this afternoon they would make jam together. Because that's just how fabulous Ninny is, because Mr. Man thought it would be nice to make jam for his dad's birthday and decided it should be melon jam, and Ninny did not say "Don't be ridiculous, we'll just make him a lovely card instead," which is certainly what I would have said. So she needed the scales to measure out the melon so it would be all ready for this afternoon's activity. Dear dear Ninny, where were you 14 years ago when I needed you most? Ah, yes, that's right... you were looking after Charlie and Annabelle in their New York penthouse. Of course.

Naturally, I invited Ninny to join me for a cup of tea and a slice of cake and a good old chit-chat. I really wanted her to stay and read me a story and make me Vegemite sandwiches for lunch and put me down for my nap, but she didn't have that much time today. Ninny was, however, delighted to have a little chat and to tell me all about the trouble she has with the very naughty David Tennant. She explained that despite being a great Dr. Who fan, she highly disapproves of Mr. Tennant, and has reprimanded him in writing twice already.

You see, Ninny has a passion for children's books. This is not a general passion for juvenile literature, but a very specific passion for the books which her babies (that's what she says - "my babies" - with a Mary Poppinish sparkle in her clear blue eyes) adore. Mr. Man and Missy Moo are crazy mad in love with all of the Hairy Maclairy books. This is of particular delight to me because it was I who bought them the very first book in the series, and this book has therefore formed a very strong bond between me and Ninny. Books do that sometimes, and apart from anything else it was Hairy Maclairy (from Donaldson's dairy) who first taught my own sweet baby Ms. Commentbox to rhyme, and the day she remembered that Schnitzel von Krum had a very low tum was a particular highlight of my younger mothering years. But I digress.

So Ninny wrote to the Maclairy books' author - Lynley Dodd, telling her how much her babies love her books. Ninny included the cutest photo of the two babies posing sweetly with their books, and a little "thank you picture" they each drew for her. Ninny thinks that Lynley Dodd is wonderful because she replied immediately with a handwritten letter which included the sweetest sketch of Hairy waving his paw and saying hello to the babies. Darling.

Such was Ninny's enthusiasm for this literary bonding that she proceeded to write similar fan letters (together with her babies, who were terribly excited as well) to Lucy Cousins whose Maisy books bring such joy, as well as to Jane O'Connor of Fancy Nancy fame. Maisy's creator wrote back on a Maisy card, Nancy's creator wrote back on the sweetest Fancy Nancy stationery. They are both wonderful authors.

But then, one day, the babies were given a present (not by me, I swear it) of a CD of Hairy Maclary, narrated by David Tennant (it's now on the iPad too, apparently). The babies were so taken by his narration that Ninny thought it would only be right to write immediately to Mr. Tennant so as to tell him how adored he is in this little household in Sydney, Australia. Mr. Man and Missy Moo both dictated short letters of thanks, posed for the photograph and eagerly awaited Mr. Tennant's response.

Several weeks later, to Ninny's delight, an envelope arrived which she opened with great fanfare while watched excitedly by the babies. The envelope contained a small photograph of Mr. Tennant dressed as Dr. Who, with a scribbled signature on the bottom right corner. Ninny was deeply offended. What idiot, she wondered, would receive a fan letter from LITTLE CHILDREN and not realise that a PROPER response was needed, preferably with some understanding of the fact that they were not tiny Dr. Who fans but, in fact, INNOCENT LITTLE CHILDREN WHO LOVE HIS NARRATION OF HAIRY MACLAIRY.

So Ninny sent off another letter, explaining this fact (most politely, of course) and including a stamped self-addressed envelope for ease of return communication. Several months passed with no response. The babies have not forgotten this and still, months and months later, check the mailbox DAILY to see if Mr. Tennant has responded to their fan letters. So Ninny sent a third letter, still polite, but somewhat more.... adament, especially as Missy Moo (particularly heartbroken) has taken to proclaiming that Mr. Tennant is very naughty and rude.

You see, Ninny doesn't only teach her babies to love stories and pictures and make jam from scratch, she also teaches them the importance of going out of your way to thank someone even if they live very far away from you and have no idea who you are.

Ninny admitted to me that she doesn't have a computer and never goes on the Internet, but I must say that her spirit is a blogging spirit of the highest order. As she cheerfully talked and sipped her tea I had the craziest vision of the kind of blog beautiful Ninny could create, how popular she'd be, and how much love and happiness she would spread around the globe. But for the moment, she's all MINE (and the babies' too, naturally).