Letting My Hair Down

Thought I'd share a song I'm kind of loving lately. Hopefully you've already heard it. If not, you MUST check it out. It's Andy Grammer's Keep Your Head Up. (The video is pretty entertaining too! Rainn Wilson from the Office makes an appearance. Seems I am incapable of looking at Rainn Wilson without laughing. :)

I heard a little of the back story of Keep Your Head Up, so I know the song almost wrote itself after a particuarly rough day. I find that's often when I'm at my most creative as well. It's the perpetual silver lining for me. I love the promise of Andy's story too... and of JK Rowlings'.... I love hearing how people who were down and out thought and created their way into a different life. I love that the idea that something that could dramatically alter my life could just pop into my head at any given time.

I've been waiting on the sunset
Bills on my mindset
I can get deny theyre getting high
Higher than my income
My income's breadcrumbs
I've been trying to survive

The glow that the sun gives
Right around sunset
Helps me realize
This is just a journey
Drop your worries
You are gonna turn out fine
Oh, you'll turn out fine
Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine

But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh

I know it's hard, know its hard,
To remember sometimes,
But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh.

I've got my hands in my pockets,
Kickin these rocks
Its kinda hard to watch this life go by.
I'm buyin in the skeptics,
Skeptics mess with, the confidence in my eyes

I'm seeing all the angles, starts to get tangled
I start to comprimise
My life and the purpose
Is it all worth it,
Am I gonna turn out fine?
Oh, you'll turn out fine
Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine

But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh

I know it's hard, know its hard,
To remember sometimes,
But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh.

Only rainbows after rain
The sun will always come again.
Its a circle, circling,
Around again, it comes around again

Only rainbows after rain
The sun will always come again
Its a circle, circling,
Around again, it comes around,

But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh
You gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh

I know it's hard, know its hard
To remember sometimes,
But you gotta keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh

Keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh.
Keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down, eh.
Keep your head up, oh,
And you can let your hair down

Have a wonderful Saturday! :)

The Power of Pink....

Pink foam hair roller necklace in argentium sterling silver by NJ metalsmith and art professor, Jill Baker Gower

When I was a little girl, my Dad used to take us places on Saturdays in order to give my Mom a little break. Often we did something fun, like spend the afternoon at the playground or go out for ice cream. Every now and then, however, he would drag us somewhere horrible, somewhere like a furniture store or a hardware store or ….worse...SEARS! I hated all of the “Dad stores”, but I really hated Sears. Those washing machine and lawn mower salesmen from Sears could’ve outfilibustered the most determined Washington polititian. They just droned on and on and on about the most insignificant things.

One Saturday afternoon, Dad came into my room and announced that we would be leaving for Sears in a half an hour. Of course, I wanted no part of this. I considered my options. A temper tantrum was sure to result in a lecture, a spanking or an early bed time. Plus, it wouldn't have worked! A faked illness would've caused me to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. I wracked my brain for a way out and I kept coming up short, until it hit me. My Dad absolutely hated it when women wore curlers out in public. He thought it was so vulgar and always wondered aloud at the irony of anyone trying to beautify herself by going out in public looking so awful.

I pulled out my plastic pink weapons and got to work. When he walked back in, I was sitting pretty as you please with rolled hair and wet bubble gum - colored fingernails. I told him my curlers would need to stay in for at least another hour, but sweetly volunteered to put a scarf over them when we went out. I knew he would be appauled by this suggestion and I hedged a bet that he wouldn’t know that I would know this. I felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t risk hurting my feelings by questioning the appropriateness of the scarf. Since I normally rode bikes, made mud pies and climbed trees, Dad didn’t want to be responsible for cutting short one of my first forays into womanhood. At the same time, he didn’t want to run into someone from the office with his daughter looking like one of the tacky women from the convenient store.

How did he resolve his delima? He did exactly what I expected he would do. He cancelled our shopping trip. It was quite the rush. I did feel a little badly about using my feminine wiles for evil… especially with my Dad, but since I decided we were both better off at having spent two less hours of our lives in the appliance section of Sears, I got over it.

Important lesson from the story: Great hair should be left to the professionals. :)Hot Heads 407-671-0480 (Were you looking for something a little deeper? Oh, alright... how about this...? As women, we don't often recognize the power that lies within. Today, be creative and look for a different way around all of the pesky obstacles in your life. Also, if you're lucky enough - as I am - to still have your Dad around, call him and apologize for the myriad of ways you put him through his paces when you were growing up. Happy Tuesday!

I'm Betting On....

... a great cut next time I go to Hot Heads. Happy Derby Day! :)

A Royal Mess....

Think fashion doesn't matter? I give you exhibit A... (No, I didn't come up with this idea, but I have to admit, I was entertained by it. For the record, my friend, Cindy, called this the minute these two came on screen the other morning. I was thinking Dr. Suess, but she was all over the wicked stepsisters comparison.)



Anyway, the princesses are young and I don't want to hurt their feelings. In case they happen to stumble across my blog :), I wanted to share a hopeful thought: Girls, remember, there was a time when Britney Spears was on the cover of every magazine in print sporting a crew cut and wielding an umbrella and she seems to be recovering quite nicely. Don't let one REALLY (correction REALLY, REALLY! :) bad fashion choice ruin your lives. Go to the mall. Drop some cash on a couple of cute outfits. Embrace the fact that you're young, beautiful and well connected and move on.

While I'm being catty... What on earth died on Merideth Vieira's head the other morning? I know she's a busy woman and probably didn't have much time to shop, but really.... That's the best she could do? I'm guessing that when rushing from the set of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? to Today Show headquarters, she sideswiped a squirrel, threw it on her head, and decided to save time and go straight to the airport. That is the only possible explanation for the fact that someone with her resources would go on camera in front of millions in that get up. I was hoping to post a picture of the hat, just in case you missed it, but alas, I am unable to locate a copy. Perhaps, the family of the dead animal refused to sign the waiver. Just a thought.... :)

For the record, I love Meredith Vieira and I thought almost everyone else looked gorgeous the other morning... especially the bride! So many women got it so right. It was as if someone put Easter morning, a pitcher of mint julips, a box of crayolas, all of the ribbon at Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, the kiss shaped street lights in Hershey, PA and the sun itself in a giant blender. It was a sight to behold and I loved every minute of it.

Surely one of these days the reality of my life is going to make me stop being such an incurable romantic. Kind of hope not though. :) Hope you enjoyed the romance, pomp and in some cases spectacle Friday as much as I did. Have a great week! <3 The HHG

Want to make sure you're looking regal for any upcoming weddings you need to attend this summer? Pick up the phone! 407-671-0480. :)

Eager to Put My Best Foot Forward

I was born in York, Pennsylvania in the shadow of a three bedroom, two bath “shoe house”/wacky tourist attraction. Perhaps, as a result, shoes have always played a big role in my life and have always loomed large in my mind. From my first pair of jingle bell adorned Stride Rite walking shoes to my current favorites, a pair of Guess white leather 4” high cork wedge platform summer sandals, I have always been “heels over head” about shoes.

One of the best things about the current circumstances of my life is that I’m finally able to do something about those feelings. Because God has a sense of humor, I was born into a family where shoes were not seen as anything other than protection from glass and hot asphalt. Shoes, in our home, were necessities purchased a single pair at a time during Back to School sales. They were almost always several sizes too large, so we could “grow into them”. If my Mom couldn’t get two full fingers down in the toe area, the salesman was quickly sent back to the storeroom to retrieve another pair. Style didn’t matter either and color was chosen, not because of taste or seasonal trends, but because of its ability to conceal scuffs and because it met my Mom’s “matches anything” standard.

Having full blown shoe crushes in this environment was not easy. I wanted follow my passion and start my collection and I was expected to make do with whatever I was given. I felt the way I’m sure Elizabeth Taylor would’ve felt had she be born into a culture that required her to marry only one man - the toothless guy whose parents owned the most goats.

What I would’ve given back then for a pair of red Dr Scholl’s, a pair of white t-strap Bandolino’s, a pair of wedge sandals with wide criss cross tan leather straps or chunky heeled, wooden soled Candie’s a la Olivia Newton John’s Sandy in Grease in a variety of different shades? What I got instead was a pair of too long for me, knock off vinyl sandals from Zayres. (Thank you God that I least had decent legs in my teen years or this really could’ve been social suicide.)

It’s no wonder I started babysitting so young and signed on to work at Disney the minute that bus pulled up to my high school. Even screaming toddlers and vats of cole slaw can be tolerated when there is footwear hanging in the balance. I was in a shoe famine of biblical proportions during that period of my life and if I had to change diapers and wear hairnets to rectify the situation, then so be it.

Lack of funds was not the only obstacle keeping me from having happy feet. My parents were not the only ones who had a say in what type of shoes were in my closet during my youth. The Safety Director at Disney felt the need to weigh in as well. The good news is that, thanks to him, I was able to add another pair of shoes to my meager collection. The bad news? The new pair was of the durable, black, rubber soled variety.

Today my shoe choices have nothing to do with practicality or other people’s mandates. Today, they are determined by the yearnings of my heart and the contents of my wallet. My stint as a Cub Scout leader ended over a decade ago and I’m fairly sure I’ll never have to chase after my next meal with spear in hand, so I don’t have to select my shoes based on their ability to withstand the elements and protect my tender soles from rocks, burrs and spiny vines. I have the sense not to live in a climate where sub zero temperatures are the norm, so I don’t have to consider whether or not a pair of shoes I love is able to take the snow and salt. If I have a strong feeling that my life will not be complete until the brown leather clogs with the brass studs and wooden heels that are currently residing in the 9 West store at the Millennium Mall make their way into my closet, I don’t have to discuss that with a husband. (I would have to justify the purchase of these clogs to myself, which so far, I have been unable to do :(, but I wouldn’t have to justify it to anyone else.)

Another advantage of where I’m at in life right now is that I don’t have to share closet space with anyone. That means my shoes all get the attention they deserve. They’re not crammed in boxes or hidden under my bed. They’re showcased on stackable shelving and arranged by color and style on the back of one of the closet doors. It’s the most fabulous thing! (Wouldn’t Imelda be proud?) It’s not quite the closet from the Park Avenue apartment in Sex and the City, but it’s close. (Well, it has a little :) less square footage and it contains no Manolo Blahniks, but it is devoid of all things boy. There is not a golf club or firearm or guitar or tie or foul smelling sock anywhere in my living space right now and I couldn’t be happier about it.) *Side note: If the foul smelling sock came with a kind, principled, fun, funny, employed, attractive - Sorry, I’m still a little more shallow than I ought to be in this area of my life- ring bearing man with a good heart, good values and a good reason for being single, I’m pretty sure I could make room for it.

There is a measure of power and magic in every pair of well designed shoes and the only women who don’t know this are the ones who have spent their entire lives in ratty old slippers, ripped, dirty sneakers, steel toed industrial shoes and/or gray “pleather” flats. Shoes are able to make a woman look and feel taller. They always fit, even when nothing else in her closet does. They are conversation starters and confidence boosters and outfit completers. They can make men sigh and women covet and bugs run for the hills. They are art and sole for the heart and soul Guiseppe Zanotti Open Toed Pumps, which can be yours for a mere $595. (NO, I don't own a pair! I would like to own an original Van Gogh too, but that doesn't mean I do. :)

Shoes are, by a sizeable margin, my very favorite accessory.

If only I could draw, I’d create a comic strip superheroine, Shoe-per Woman, whose trademark move is that she ventures into shoe stores, not phone booths, whenever it’s time to suit up and battle the bad guys. Can you imagine a villain foolish enough to mess with a woman in a pair of sheer Barely Black silk stockings and black Christian Louboutin stilettos? He’d be rendered powerless before he could say, “I surrender” and don’t we all know it!

One of my major pet peeves with all those other superheros is their inability to change things up. Really, Batman? … Are you really planning to wear that red cape AGAIN? Shoe-per Woman would know better. If she found herself at cross purposes with the evil Mr. Freeze, she’d just put on a pair of strappy, leather gladiator sandals on her freshly pedicured feet and in no time, Mr. Freeze would be hot, bothered and under her spell. In fact, within minutes of glimpsing Shoe-per Woman’s toned, tanned calves and her smartly polished tootsies, he’d be nothing but a puddle on the floor. Ever see Robin or the Hulk make something like that happen? No you have not.

One of my favorite lines in Legally Blonde, one of my favorite feel good movies :), is the snarky, “Don’t you stomp your little last season Prada shoes at me, Honey”, which Enrique hisses ever so condescendingly at Elle outside the courtroom. To Enrique, a shoe snob, the fact that Elle’s shoes don’t meet his exacting standards, gives him free reign to treat her with contempt. Other characters, those in academia and in the legal community, are quick to dismiss her as well, but for the opposite reason. To them, the idea that Elle cares about something so frivolous as the design and craftsmanship of her footwear and the materials that were used to create it, is proof positive that she doesn’t have two working brain cells to rub together.

When I first got out of college, it was all about the navy wool blend suit - which had to be paired with navy understated pumps with an up to two inch heel. If a woman wanted to be taken seriously in corporate America, this was her uniform. Basically, we were all told to dress alike, to dress like men and to flip the off switch on several of our most powerful assets - our uniqueness, our creativity and our femininity.

Elle’s shoes were key to Elle’s image and that image was what helped her get the information she needed to solve a crime and win a case – a case her smug, seasoned, superior would’ve almost certainly lost without her help. She saw as much value in the right side of her brain as she did in the left. She nurtured the creative part of herself and the fun and flirtatious part of herself every bit as much as she stretched herself intellectually. Those who underestimated her because of this found out the hard the way that if you choose to go up against a woman with brains, humor, humility, integrity and an impressive shoe collection, you should do so at your own risk.

Bette Middler once said, “Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world.” An exaggeration? I think not. While stylish shoes can’t ensure world peace, they can enable perky beauty contestants to reach their mikes and make impassioned pleas for it. Why our national security advisors don’t capitalize on this is a mystery to me. We’ve tried just about everything else, why not put together a platoon of comely, well-shod ambassadors, dispatch them around the globe and see where it gets us. Couldn’t hurt, could it? I mean, nothing against Hillary and her sensible low heeled pumps, but we’ve got that that former Miss Teen South Carolina contestant at our disposal. I say put that put that girl in a pair of these

Shoes by Jimmy Choo (No these aren't mine either... sigh! :( )

at the onset of the next international incident, hand her a map and a few airline tickets and watch our enemies’ frowns turn upside down. Anyway, time to stop. I’m beginning to feel like a food critic on a 1500 calorie per/day diet. If I give this topic anymore thought, I may find myself walking the 3.36 miles to the nearest DSW and camping out until the door is unlocked so I can do a little sole searching. Parting thought: “Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but she did it backwards and in high heels.” ~ Faith Whittlesey Only one more week to Wine, Women and Shoes. See post below. :) Happy Saturday!

Wine, Women & Shoes

Vino, gal pals, fabulous footwear, help for a reputable, established and - given the times - stretched to capacity charity... Does it get any better than this? I think not! :) Hot heads is contributing to the The Wine, Women & Shoes silent auction. In addition, it is spearheading its own food drive to benefit the Second Harvest Food Bank. Reason #642 why I love this salon. Consider attending the event. Drop some canned goods by the salon and call and make a hair appt 407-671-0480! It's a win-win-win-win-win! :)

In Loving Memory...

Straw Purse, age 8 or 9, of Altamonte Springs, passed away on Thursday, April 7, 2011 as a result of complications resulting from a run in with a badly behaved canine. The details of Straw Purse’s early days are unknown, but it is widely believed that he came to the US by way of the Caribbean, most likely in the clutches of an intoxicated American tourist in a tropical print sundress. Straw Purse took up residence in the Hot Head Groupie’s home in or around 2007, shortly after she saw him at a – gasp – garage sale. The two soon became inseparable. Straw Purse vacationed with the Hot Heads Groupie. He joined her for breakfast at the beach. He cruised Park Avenue with her. He went with her to summer cookouts and he accompanied her to outdoor concerts.

A small, natural colored purse with brown leather straps and a palm tree and foliage adorned exterior, Straw Purse would’ve been considered attractive even without his playful primate pal. With it, however, he could really turn some heads. The mischievous, leaping monkey reaching for coconuts and clutching a couple of fronds, was the topic of so many conversations over the course of Straw Purse’s life. Everyone from leather - skinned fisherman, to children in wet bathing suits and floaties to the “ladies who lunch” noticed the monkey, commented about him and smiled. Now that his days as a handbag have come to an end, Straw Purse will likely be reworked into a scrapbook album cover in the Hot Head Groupie’s home. Straw Purse did not leave specific written instructions regarding his wishes for his post accessory life, but the Hot Heads Groupie believes he would’ve been pleased by the prospect of spending all eternity in such close proximity to photos of her lounging poolside and listening to steel drums. Straw Purse is survived by a closet full of hats, sunglasses, shoes, belts and bangles of all colors and sizes. Though everyone will miss him, the Hot Head Groupie’s extensive flip flop collection will likely feel his loss most acutely. In lieu of flowers, mourners are encouraged to purchase an umbrella drink in Straw Purse’s memory. May he rest in peace.

Straw Purse, April 2011, on his final outing. Note the fatal wound on his top right side. It would be too goulish to post a pic of what he looks like from the back. :( It's a good thing for the offending dog that she's adorable.