Category: Fashion

Five Things I Learned From Being on TV

9/24/2015

I recently made my television debut on local access cable up in New Hampshire. (Here’s the link, in case you somehow missed me spamming it across every social media outlet I could think of.) Now that I’m a television star, I’d like to share some important things I learned from my small-screen debut.

Smokin' hot, right?

1. What you wear is important. I drove up to New Hampshire with fellow author Kristi Petersen Schoonover, who advised me during the drive that I shouldn’t wear green, orange, patterns, or too much makeup. I shouldn’t wear jewelry that was too sparkly, and now was NOT the time to try a new fashion trend. There were sound reasons for this: green would blend in with the green screen, making me look like a floating head with no torso; orange is apparently a bad color on me; patterns make people look fat on TV; makeup melts. Sparkly jewelry is distracting and can cause weird flashy things to happen, and a new fashion trend that I’d never tried would make me uncomfortable.

I wore black.

I knew this guy *before* he was famous.

2. Do it with someone you know. Kristi was also appearing on the show, so it helped that she and I could practice reading our pieces beforehand. Plus, I was interviewing with Tony Tremblay, who I’ve known and adored for several years now. All I had to do was focus on having a conversation with my friend Tony, and not on the millions (okay, maybe hundreds . . . or just "hundred") of viewers in the audience who would be focusing on my weird sparkly jewelry.

Tony greeted me with a big hug. I thought Gee, Tony’s a big local access cable media star now, and got all nervous again.

There was no doubt that I would use this picture.

3. Studios are HOT. Seriously, those lights are killer. I know we’ve all heard that, but it’s not until you’re actually sitting under them that you start to think Can the human body bake like a potato? How long would that take? The sweating starts instantaneously. Now I knew exactly what Kristi meant about makeup melting. I was worried about my actual face melting.

In all 43 pictures of that night, I am making weird faces.

4. You’ll be pleasantly surprised that you were worried about nothing. My face didn’t actually melt, but that’s not what I mean. Here’s the thing: I hear my voice all the time. In my head, it’s loud, nasally, and a bit grating. I’m also tone deaf, and well aware that I can’t carry a tune, as is anyone who has ever had their car windows open next to me at a stoplight. I hate the way I sound.

Except that when I watched the interview, I sounded fine. My voice was light and sweet and alternated between sounding like my mother and my sister. That was perfectly okay by me. Also, I slouch a lot, but on the screen, I didn’t look like a stooped hag. I looked relaxed.

Nobody asked me to belt out show tunes, so that was a relief, too.

5. But you’ll be alarmed by how many things you should’ve worried about, but didn’t. I don’t worry about my smile much. I should have. Why has nobody ever mentioned my gigantic horse-faced overbite? When the heck did that happen? Has my mouth always been that big? And why did I keep making weird faces? Do I do that all the time? In public?

The turkey neck I was already aware of, but it did serve as a reminder that I need to moisturize my skin more.

All in all, it was a fun experience. The hosts were wonderful and funny and if I haven’t mentioned it yet, Tony is one of my favorite people in the whole world. I’d definitely do it again.
After I make an appointment with an orthodontist.

Trick(y) Photography

9/5/2014

Perhaps you noticed the new author photo I have on the home page of this website. Why did I change it? It was time, plus, my mother hated the old one because I wasn't smiling in it. Apparently, you never grow out of wanting to please your parents, so a new photo was needed.
Accomplishing this wasn't easy. The only professional photographer I know works weird hours as a 9-1-1 dispatcher, and I didn't want to show up at her job and have her be distracted with saving lives when I needed head shots. Jason is usually good for taking pictures, but he is not good at letting me look at all 60 pictures before deciding I hate them all and demanding retakes. So it was just me and my camera's delayed timer option.

No, no, and no.

My first issue was hair. Could I get away with just brushing it? How about if I put it up in a ponytail? Perhaps a cute hat was in order? I did some test shots of these options, and spent a good half hour trying to figure out why I kept making that weird forced smile. Perhaps it was more than my hair that needed work. I decided to worry about that later, and ran down the street for some hair mousse, fired up the curling iron, and went to work. (It turns out that I don't have the patience to use a curling iron properly, which I mention only to explain the three half-formed curls in the final photo.)

Nope, heck no, and nuh-uh.

Picking just the right outfit was critical. A sloppy sweatshirt might say "I'm fun, but also a slob." Something sexy would send a different message, more like "I'm flirtatious, and a bit trampy." A t-shirt wouldn't do, either: "I'm casual, and in my free time, I like to stalk Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran." After going through everything in my closet twice, I finally settled on a little black dress, which only proves that women should never even bother to buy any other kind of dress.

I went outside and started experimenting with the delayed timer on the camera. It only gave me three seconds to click the button and pose, which is not nearly as easy as it sounds. Here I am in one of several failed attempts to get in frame and flash my most stunning smile before the shutter clicked. It's a great shot of both my butt and the tick farm I'm cultivating in my garden, but not quite what I needed.

Once I got the hang of the delayed timer, I decided to try for something artsy. We have a bunch of sunflowers in our back yard, and they seemed like the perfect artistic touch for what I needed. Here I am, wistfully watching two Japanese beetles mate on a bright sunflower. It sounded good in theory, but of course, you can't see my face, nor can you really see the beetles, so what was the point? I chalked this shot up to a failure and moved on.

Maybe if I'd jumped?

I wasn't quite ready to give up on the sunflower motif yet, though. I decided they'd be a great backdrop. This taught me an important lesson on perspective. Yes, sunflowers are pretty, but they are also much, much taller than I am. Here's my "Stacey Among the Sunflowers" shot. Pretty, and a lovely late-summer scene, but again, not quite what I'd hoped for.

You can pick your friends . . .

The flowers were clearly not working. I liked the idea of greenery, though, so I kept on looking. I found a nice bush in the yard that might provide a little color in the picture, and it could be just the right height.

I didn't realize until I uploaded the picture to my computer that there were still a few lessons I needed to learn about perspective. Look closely, friends. There's a tree branch in that shot that looks like it's trying to pick my nose. I headed back out to try again.

Me, protecting my nose.

Clearly I needed a different backdrop . . . maybe one that wouldn't be so eager to shove its branches up my nostrils. I found a nice tree and thought that perhaps a portrait of me, in repose amid the leaves, would work just fine. I leaned up against the tree, which jostled its branches a bit, alarming the hive of white-faced hornets that had taken up residence there. In case you are unaware, this particular species of stinging insect is quite territorial, and has no qualms about flying into your hair or, yes, up your nose.

At this point, I'd decided that a photo among the flowers or delicate branches around me was not in the cards. I waited several hours for the hornets to settle down, then finally discovered the perfect place for my photo: the side deck. The camera could sit at a good angle, the sun wouldn't shine into the lens, and the hornets were on the other side of the house. What could go wrong? I set up the camera, selected the delayed timer option, and got ready to pose, smoothing my hair and flashing my most brilliant smile. Here was the result: me, squinting, looking as if I'd just gotten a whiff of a particularly stale fart.

I was determined at this point to get my stupid author shot, come hell or high water. I clicked my way through weird smiles, crossed eyes, the return of the white-faced hornets, and a particularly amorous dog that had escaped from the neighbor's yard to make friends with my left calf. It was not easy. It was not fun. I did not feel glamorous, attractive, or particularly fond of Mother Nature by the time I was done.
One hundred and forty-seven photos later, I finally had a usable shot. Eagle-eyed critics will note that the image is slightly out of focus, to which I say "Move your face closer so I can slap you." I wasted twelve hours of my life trying to get a usable picture, not to mention having my nose violated unpleasantly more than once. This is the picture that you will have to live with on my site for the next year. I figure it'll take me at least twelve months to recover from this experience.

Does Makeup Matter?

6/6/2014

I recently read an article about a college-age woman who went to class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in varying degrees of makeup (none, some, and lots) to test her classmates’ reactions. (Read it here: http://www.bustle.com/#/articles/26095-how-do-people-react-to-different-levels-of-makeup-i-decided-to-find-out.) She discovered that when she wore light makeup, as she was prone to do anyway, she received positive feedback.

Desperately needing a blog idea, I thought I’d try to replicate the experiment. Would it make a difference if it was a 40-something woman who never wears makeup? If it took place at work instead of on campus? If I crammed it all in to three consecutive days instead of three days spread throughout the week? The results were shocking.

Wednesday: Here I am with no makeup. This is also a pretty clear depiction of how fuzzy my hair gets when it’s humid out. This is actually my everyday look; I often only wear makeup to weddings (or funerals, if I'm worried that I'll look more washed out than the corpse). This is not due to my confidence that I naturally look beautiful, but rather a result of my valuing sleep more than anything else. Putting on makeup would take away at least six minutes of time that would be better spent snoozing.

As this look was par for the course, I didn’t get any comments on this day. Sure, the guy at the gas station called me “ma’am,” but that’s nothing new. I finally asked one of the women I worked with to honestly critique my look.

“Um, I guess you look exhausted, but you always do. I just assumed you had eight kids or something.”

I was not pleased. “What am I, a Kennedy? I have no kids. This is my natural beauty.”

She smiled, kind of like she was gritting her teeth. “Sure, okay. Looks like you’ve got a fresh new zit on your chin. Might want to put some cover-up on that.”

Day One Conclusion: I look like a tired-looking old hag with acne.

Thursday: I had the most trouble with this look. My first attempt was to put on concealer, blush, and mascara. Apparently, this was not much different than “no makeup” because when I got to work, the receptionist asked me if my brood of children had kept me up all night. I added more blush, eyeliner, and light eye shadow. Better, though much like when I was in high school, I discovered that the more I tried to cover up my fresh new zit, the more attention the concealer drew to it. I cruised around the office space to gauge the results.

Sadly, I found that people were a lot chattier today. One co-worker who has always snubbed me asked me what my weekend plans were. Another told me I looked “different . . . but it’s nice.” Instead of giving me a boost, this made me feel a little crummy about how I normally look. Later in the day, I accidentally rubbed my eyes without thinking, leaving a trail of dried mascara crumbs along the side of my face that I didn’t know was there until I got home.

Day Two Conclusion: People seem to like the makeup, but not enough to tell me when it’s smeared across my face.

Friday: I was a little uncomfortable with the amount of makeup I was wearing, but I promised you all I’d go full glam, so I did. I got used to it quickly: wearing this much makeup was almost like wearing a mask. What a difference! I noticed immediately that the guy at the gas station couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. And when I got into work, everyone was commenting.

“Wow!”

“Unbelievable!”

And that was just the president and vice president of the company, respectively. As I passed coworkers in the hallway, they all started talking, either to me or about me. I couldn't believe it! Did wearing a lot of makeup really make that much of a difference? How shallow was our society?
When I got to my cubicle, a crowd formed. Everybody wanted to see my glamorous makeup job. I'll admit it: it felt good. All the attention made me feel like a total rock star!

Day Three Conclusion: The reaction I got from my coworkers and random strangers pumped me so full of energy, all I wanted to do was rock and roll all night.

Conclusion: I hate to admit it, but wearing makeup really does matter. Yet I do still value sleep above all else, so I'll continue to wear the 'no makeup' look for a long time to come. However, I do think I'll be breaking out the "full makeup" look for the next wedding or funeral I attend.

Fashionista, Part II

3/21/2014

I can't tell you how many people think that I once had a career as a fashion model. (They never say it out loud, but I can tell they're thinking it.) It must be because I always look like I just walked off of the runway. Sure, some days it's an airport runway, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

How do I manage my glamorous look? It may surprise you to know I hardly put any effort into it at all. I do have a few golden rules of fashion that I always follow, however.

1. Shop the high-end thrift stores. Just because it was previously owned by a teenager in the 1980s doesn't mean a Benetton shirt won't come back into style again. I personally love Uptown Consignment in South Windsor because you can get brand name clothes really, really cheaply. The bad news is that their dressing rooms don't have locking doors, just curtains. I'm sure the little girl who walked in on me when I was trying on shorts while wearing knee highs still has nightmares.

2. Shop the low-end thrift stores, too. One thing I really, really love about Savers in Manchester is the locks on their dressing room stalls. The doors are kind of short, though. If you're like me, you're not as diligent about your leg-shaving in the winter as perhaps you should be, and I once got kicked out of the women's dressing room because they thought I was a man based on the view of my ankles.

3. If you see someone leaving the dressing room at the thrift store with their sweater tucked into their underwear, for goodness' sake, tell them. Honestly, is this so much to ask?

4. If you see a one-of-a-kind fashion item you just have to have, indulge. This is why I now own totally awesome KISS leggings. (I am not kidding.) When I saw them, I actually hesitated before buying them because I was so poor I was recycling our toilet paper. But I stole the $10 I'd set aside for Christmas gifts and bought those bad boys. So if you're wondering why you got flour paste for Christmas, you can blame my fashion slavery and my need to have Paul Stanley's face plastered on my thighs.

5. Never, ever shop when you're feeling fat. You'll just wind up grabbing a size that should be two sizes
too big, but of course, on this particular day when you're already feeling huge, they'll be too small. This is a no-brainer. If you're feeling fat, you shop for books. Clothes can wait for another day. (Side note: Don't go food shopping on fat days, either. You'll wind up with a refrigerator full of rotting vegetables.)

6. Need a wardrobe boost? Go through all of those clothes you don't wear any more and try them all on . . . at once. Then, leave the house. I once went to my friend Kathy's house wearing a sparkly gray prom dress, a pink and black hoodie, and my KISS leggings (see remarkably sexy photo below). That's the kind of sacrifice I make to put a smile on my friend's face. She laughed so hard she wet her pants. Then her dog wet the floor. Then I sneezed and passed gas at the same time. It was a big mess, but totally worth it.

I hope these tips have helped you with your fashion choices. So many times people have asked to take my picture for their fashion "dos and don'ts" files. Just shop the bargains, untuck your sweater from your underwear, and flaunt those KISS pants, and you'll be fine!

I can see why you thought I was runway material.

Fashionista

3/22/2013

When people meet me, they often think "Wow! What a fashionista!" (They don't say they're thinking this, but I can tell.) One of my favorite things to do is to find a picture of a model and recreate her look. Take this lady, for instance:
<----
Nice, right? She looks lovely. However, her whole outfit probably costs $4,000. I don't have that kind of money. What I do have is the innate ability to find a bargain. So off I went.
First off, her blazer is white, which is a terrible color on me. I decided to go with gray, which is a little more flattering. Also, I don't like wearing tops that button, so I went with a sweater (Price: free, raided my great-aunt's closet.)
Her skirt just isn't practical for New England in March. It might be spring, but it was snowing yesterday, and that skirt would just look silly over a pair of long johns. I swapped it out for a nice, sensible pair of corduroys (Price: $5.00, JC Penney clearance rack.)
Now for the accessories. Her Jackie Kennedy glasses seemed a tad pricy, so I went with cheap imitations that were equally as big and gaudy. (Price: free when you buy the first season of CHiPS on DVD.) Her heels looked a little cumbersome, plus, due to an old knee injury, I no longer wear heels as a rule. I like the pattern, though. It makes a personal statement. So I found some sneakers with my own personal statement - the logo of my favorite baseball team, the New York Yankees. (Don't you boo me, Red Sox Nation. I like a team that WINS.) I added my own personal touch - some orthopedic arch support inserts - and I was ready to go! As soon as I found a purse, of course. (Price: $10 for the sneakers at the Reebok outlet; $14 for supports for my falling arches at Walmart.)
I LOVE the Vera Bradley bag the model has, but again, I'm sure I could make a personal statement for less. I found a great Halston-print bag at Job Lot for much less. Oops! Did I say Halston? I meant Holstein. Only $10! My look was complete.

Here's the result of my careful replication of the model's outfit:
<---
It's like we're twins, right? Right?
If you'd like me to come redo YOUR wardrobe for less, I'm available for consultation at the low, low price of $100/hr. Arch support inserts get expensive, you know.

Five Things I Learned From Being on TV

Trick(y) Photography

Does Makeup Matter?

Fashionista, Part II

Fashionista

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