Miguelina

Coco

In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different. - Coco Chanel

This is my favorite photo of Coco Chanel. I love the cool confidence in her eyes, her carefully styled hair, the creamy strands of pearls casually piled up on her shoulders. Heck, I even like the way she's defiantly pointing her cigarette at us, daring us to question her.

It's a photograph of a woman who has confidence - in her intelligence, her taste, her femininity. The picture of a lady in her lipstick and pearls, she's also as cuddly as a porcupine. The magic of being a girl is that you can run the world in earrings and heels, if you choose.

It's a beautiful picture and, in my eyes, it's enhanced by the obvious colorization. I love colorized photos! They're much more honest than the photo-shopped atrocities that get passed on as the truth nowadays. We all know that no living human being is actually that flawless in appearance - the colorization is more art than journalism, although when I was little I thought that the past really was saturated in color.

Here's the non-colorized picture. It's still beautiful, just not as striking:

Elegance is refusal. - Coco Chanel

Chanel's life story is quite interesting, and while she made some questionable choices, I think that the essence of her story is inspiring. How she became an orphan and learned to sew from the nuns who raised her. How she rebelled and became a cabaret singer (which earned her the "Coco" nickname). How the rich women around her mocked her for being skinny in a time when voluptuousness was the ideal, and for not wearing the expensive and complicated clothes that were fashionable at the time.

How instead of striving for what she couldn't have, she made the most with what she did. When a wealthy suitor offered her anything she wanted, she opted for a lease instead of diamonds. How she opened her shop, and designed clothes made out of inexpensive and wearable materials that would fit and flatter her skinny frame. How her famous "little black dress" was inspired by the shapeless frocks of the nuns from that orphanage from so long ago. How she freed women from the corseted and petticoated clothes she was supposed to aspire to.

The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud. - Coco Chanel

The photo above is from the same 1936 photoshoot. I like that picture too because it shows a less stylized, more relaxed Chanel. She was in her fifties by then, and while I love the colorized and airbrushed photo I also appreciate the beauty of reality.

More photos and quotes after the jump

(Photo credits: Parisenimage)

True Luxury

That's Salma Hayek and her fiance Francois-Henri Pinault, the billionaire CEO of PPR (the company that owns luxury houses Gucci, Balenciaga, Boucheron, etc), pushing the most basic of strollers - a Graco.

That, my friends, is the true meaning of luxury.

My favorite definition of luxury is "a pleasure out of the ordinary allowed to oneself." It has nothing to do with flashy logos or things that are expensive solely for the sake of being expensive.

Why spend a fortune on a "luxury" stroller when your baby couldn't care less? The Graco is practical and safe. (Of course, they're probably wearing thousands of dollars in beautiful clothes - just look at her gorgeous coat - but they can afford it. And they get to enjoy looking good for each other. Good for them.)

What a breath of fresh air.

(Photo from People en Español)

I See Famous People ... Just kidding! Sort of.

Sometime last week I informed my husband that he would be on lone daddy duty on Sunday because I'd made plans to have coffee with a friend that was visiting from LA.

"Sure!" He said - no questions asked. It wasn't until Saturday afternoon that he finally asked me who my friend was.

"It's Sarah."

"Sarah? Did you go to school together? I don't remember you ever mentioning a Sarah from LA."

"That's because we didn't go to school together."

"Then how do you know each other?"

"We've been reading each other since...huh, I don't really remember! It's been at least since she before she got pregnant ..."

"Hoooold on...OK. So - let me get this straight...you're going to meet up with a woman you call a 'friend' because you read her on the INTERNET?"

"I guess so. Yes."

*Sigh*

He was silent for a minute. I guess I had rendered him speechless with my nerditude. (And you know what? I don't blame him - it does sound crazy - I know it!)

"Tell me one thing - how do you know she's not insane? Or a stalker? Or a man pretending to be a mom?"

"Oh, she's not an insane-stalker-man!"

"How do you know?"

"I just know! It's Whoorl!"

The only thing I could think to do to make my case for "just knowing" that I wasn't meeting up with a random internet psycho was to show him her site. He clicked around until he found a picture. This one, to be exact. And then he had one thing to say:

"Can I come too?"

(Answer: HELL NO! I missed out on shopping for beauty products with Metalia because he was out of town on Tuesday so the kids were ALL HIS on Sunday. Fair is fair, bud!).

ANYWAYS, off I went to meet up with a total stranger who wasn't a stranger at all. And despite the fact that I knew she would be lovely (and she was!) I was still amazed that a Boston-girl-by-way-of-Miami could meet a California-girl-by-way-of-Oklahoma for the very first time and instantly have the type of girl talk that good friends catching up on old times have. If that's not awesome, I don't know what is.

(What do bloggers meeting for the first time talk about? Boys, handbags, hair (hello!), work, kids...the same things girlfriends all over the world talk about over coffee.)

Now I have a GREAT excuse to go to the west coast - and for that, I have the internet to thank.

(Thanks, Al Gore! I owe you one!)

A late holiday greeting

We're having a wonderful time in Miami - where the weather is a perfect 78 degrees and Boston's snow is nothing but a distant memory - I'm super warm and relaxed, except when I think about the potential mess waiting for us in our basement, but why would I spoil our trip thinking about that?

Instead, we've been busy visiting friends and family and dining outside as often as possible. It was on one of those outdoor dining excursions where my husband and I literally bumped into the same $300 million guy we shared a latte with a couple of Thanksgivings ago. Alas, his daughter wasn't around, so I wasn't able to play matchmaker this time.  There's always next year!

I See Famous People: It's All Downhill From Here

Some of you may remember the time I ran into a drunk Hugh Grant at a fancy hotel in Miami, or the time I shared an itsy-bitsy table at a Starbucks with Alex Rodriguez.  If you know me in person you've doubtless heard my "I spent New Year's Eve with Madonna (at a private party- not at a concert thankyouverymuch)" story.  You may have heard that one more than once, but seriously, wouldn't you talk about that all the time too?

I used to run into famous people everywhere - Shakira at a hole-in-the-wall salon (we both got $15 haircuts), Richard Hatch and Pierce Brosnan (both at airports - guess who I was more excited to see.  Go on, guess!), Harrison Ford outside a dark South Beach alley (it was a great relief to learn that the footsteps echoing behind me belonged to Indiana Jones and not a homicidal killer.  In all seriousness, PHEW!)  Sadly, my sightings after moving here can be counted on one hand:  Jack Welch.  Ok, fine - they (it!) can be counted on one finger.  Whatever.

So you will forgive my excitement at learning that I will be meeting Donovan Patton next week.  Yes, I'm excited that I will be meeting someone who is, for all practical purposes, a cartoon character.

I'm obviously doing this for my kids because I'm a good mother.  Right!  Of COURSE it's out of pure unadulterated curiosity - will he act like the adult toddler we see on TV?  Or will he be bitter and washed out, not unlike a mall Santa? 

The world needs to know.

(Who wants to bet that Sebastian won't have a clue as to who this guy is?  Better put Blue's Clues on heavy rotation.)

I See Famous People: Play Ball!

NOTE:  I'm posting some old stuff until I'm back in September - Enjoy!  Or ignore!  Whatever!

Hey look!  It's time for another completely pointless I See Famous People post.  Woo-hoo! 

The Husband, The Boy and I were visiting my family in Miami on Thanksgiving weekend.  It was exactly 72 degrees out so we thought it an absolutely perfect day for the beach.  This only proved to the rest of my family that the metamorphosis from In-The-Know Miamian to Crazy-Ass Bostonian was complete (as if the pale skin and decided lack of lacy tank tops wasn't proof enough).

"Are you crazy?"

"What about the baby?  It's freezing!"

"Only tourists *chuckle* go to the beach in November...you're not serious are you?"

ME:  "B-but it's 28 degrees back home..."

They looked at me like "hey, it's not our fault you guys moved to the freakin' tundra" and it was settled.  We were going shopping instead.  On a warm day in November.  Bah!

Beautiful weather is wasted on Miamians, I tell you.

But I digress.  After an afternoon of much people-watching and very little actual shopping we decided to stop at Starbucks, all 7 of us.

Almost as soon as we were settled into our tables, a couple with a baby sits right to us, their Bugaboo side by side with our Sit and Stroll.  I turn to the guy, because his shoulder was touching mine, and hello?  I need more room!

"Hello" I blurt out, and I freeze as my glare is met by a pair of electric green eyes.  The owner of those eyes nods and stares off into the distance without a smile.

My mind starts racing...could it be?  Those eyes! Was I really sitting next to... the $30M man?  Holy crap!  I was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the one and only Alex Rodriguez.

Or as I hear he is called,  A-Rod.

With my personal Celebrity Encounter Rules racing through my head (pretend you don't know who they are...do not, under any circumstances, touch the famous person...be cool...be cool) I proceeded to actively ignore Mr. A-Rod.  Which of course made it completely obvious that I had recognized him and made him more uncomfortable by the minute.  So I sat there like an idiot, pretending that he had vanished into thin air while he focused intensely on a palm tree off to my right.

Smooth operators, aren't we?

The Husband, God bless his heart, had no idea who these people were.  So he was deep in conversation with A-Rod's wife, chatting about strollers and travelling with kids, and "is she teething?", while trying to get The Boy to flirt with baby A-Rod.

"Isn't she a pretty girl?" The Husband coos.

"Pfftllrr!" is The Boy's rude but totally age-appropiate response. 

I started to daydream about how my life would change if The Boy were to sweep A-Rod Baby off her $30M feet...

"Gffft...Pfft!"

And on it went.  I racked my brain for something, anything, I could talk to A-Rod about (The Red Sox?  Ha!  I'm not that stupid.  His deodorant deal?  Why the hell he was wasting a sunny day in November at Starbucks?) and came up with nothing.  Why must I be so lame?

He continued to actively ignore me.  The poor man couldn't even have his Venti-whatever in peace.  My Husband soon lost interest in The A-Rod Baby so I was forced to drop my dream to have The Boy become insanely wealthy by marrying into the A-Rod family.  He's a little young, I know, but you have to plan ahead when you're thinking BIG.

We drank our coffee in uncomfortable silence.

"It's him!" my mother stage-whispered to my brother.  I cringed. The Husband wanted to know who they were talking about.  I kicked him under the table.  Oh yeah.  We're smooth.

And that's it.  A-Rod drank his coffee, all the while pretending that there weren't crazy people sitting but a few inches from his daughter.

I told you it was pointless.

I See Famous People: British Invasion

NOTE:  I'm posting some old stuff until I'm back in September - Enjoy!  Or ignore!  Whatever!

I have the completely useless talent of running into famous people. They're everywhere!  Gay people have gaydar, I have this.  Sometimes it can be a curse, because these encounters have never led to anything other than a story I can't share since most people don't care.  So I'll tell you!

I'm telling you this because if VH1 can make silly shows more interesting simply because famous people are involved, then surely this silly blog can only benefit from being infused with some celebrity.  So every once in a while (like when I don't have anything else to say) I will share a random celebrity sighting experienced by me. 

Most of these happened when I lived in Miami.  In Miami, celebrities are almost as plentiful as the Palmetto bugs.   They both must love the humidity and the palm trees.

So here it is, my big encounter with a cute Brit.  Brace yourselves.

The Husband and I were leaving our hotel (The Delano) when I spotted a short, alarmingly pasty guy who was obviously wasted beyond belief. He could not stand up without swaying, his eyes were out of focus, he looked like he was going to throw up.  This is not such a strange sight in South Beach, but this guy was just standing there and had an eager, sad look in his eyes.  I think he was waiting to be recognized.  Well, I recognized him, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction. Hell no.

"Honey look!"  I whispered, "I think that's Hugh Grant!"

"There's NO way that's HUGH GRANT.  That guy is WAY too short."

Obviously we'd already begun our, um, festivities and The Husband could not whisper to save his life.  Thankfully, he didn't hear us. But a group of trashy girls wearing cheap clingy dresses and way too much makeup did.

"OH MY GAWD!  IT'S HUUGH GRAANT! AAAAAHHH!"

And they ran over to him, making both a scene and fools of themselves. 

Amateurs. 

These women were obviously not locals, since they violated Cardinal Rule #1 of the Random Celebrity Encounter (always ignore celebrity) and Rule #2 (do not touch celebrity under any circumstances).  Come to think of it, celebrity sightings are not unlike wildlife sightings. And as with wildlife sightings, there are good reasons for these rules.  Follow them, people!

Mr. Grant was not scared of the running mass of polyester and Ciara headed his way.  Instead, he suddenly came to life and grabbed one of the women, thrust his tongue down her throat, pawing and slobbering all over her.  It was a sad, sad sight.  Back then he was with Liz Hurley. Where was she?

All I could think of was that this was the man who spent $45 to catch Divine Brown's cooties.  **shudder**  Now he was getting his kicks for free, and passing all the things he'd picked up to this girl.   Maybe he was generous enough to share with all of them?

We did not stay to find out. 

"That could have been you," said The Boyfriend (he hadn't been promoted to The Husband yet) "if you weren't with me."

No, not really.  I'm too stuck-up for that.  And now whenever I see Hugh Grant I need to shower.  He spoiled adorably bumbling British heartthrobs for me. 

That is, until Colin Firth came along.

Lesson Learned: Celebrities are shorter in person than you would expect.  And, unlike most regular people, you don't even have to buy them a drink to catch their cooties.