Living, with Rust

The Case for Not Looking Like Hell

2012-02-24T15:41:00.000-08:00

Last week I broke my rule. I had just come from the gym and had to dash to the Upper West Side and take care of some business. Instead of stopping home for a quick shower, change of clothing, and a touch of mascara and lip gloss, I decided to go as is. As soon as I got off the train, I saw a TV producer I had been hoping to re-connect with and pitch some ideas. In my big wool hat (hiding my crazy gym-hair), sloppy sweats, sneakers, let’s just say I was not ready for prime time. I looked like hell. I slipped past him.

I am a firm believer in leaving the house looking pretty good, I won’t lie. For me that doesn’t mean a fully tarted up face and heels, but I always want to look decent; because it’s true, as I was just reminded the hard way, you never know who you might meet. I grew up with a Georgia Peach of a mom who didn’t leave the house without lipstick and perfume, and a dashing dad who favored Italian tailors. What can I say? My bar is pretty high.

Now, how we each define looking pulled together is relative and open to interpretation. Maybe you would have felt great in your sweats and sneakers. Good for you! Maybe you need a sexy dress and killer pumps, or suit. That’s okay too. It’s all about taking the right measures to feel self-assured.

Just as I feel better when I am prepared for a meeting or interview with the right information and the right questions, I also feel stronger and more confident when I look pulled together. It’s as though I’m wearing a special anti-frump coat of armor. That “armor” doesn’t have to be expensive, but it has to fit well, and I have to feel comfortable in it. I find that I lean toward certain uniforms, such as a perfect black or dark wash jean, a good sweater, and great pair of boots for the winter. For summer it might be an easy dress and sandals, or ballet flats. Invest in things you love; a well-made coat and a trench, a good bag, and a few decent accessories. When you have these pieces in your arsenal it makes looking crappy more of a longshot. Plus, once you have good basics, you don’t spend precious time searching for the right things. Who has time?

I also find that a little make up goes a long way. I think at a certain point in a woman’s life, ahem, a truly fresh face isn’t necessarily so… fresh. But neither is kabuki-mode—it’s aging. A little dab will do you. My easy day face takes me about two minutes: a touch of concealer under the eyes, mascara, a little blush and some tinted lip gloss or a stain. I'm entirely recognizable, but I look a little less tired than I feel. That's worth two minutes of my time. And needless to say, chipped nail polish is a no-no, unless you are Courtney Love circa 1989.

Balzac said “carelessness in dressing is moral suicide.” That’s a bit of an exaggeration, yes, but after my little carpe diem moment with the producer turned into an epic fail (thanks to my wardrobe malfunction), I’m sticking to my rule.

Big Mother is Watching…But Not That Closely

2012-01-27T12:51:00.000-08:00

When my book club had finished discussing EsmeraldaSantiago’s Conquistadora (general consensus:we expected more), the conversation turned to our children and our control overtheir Internet habits. In this circle of women, I discovered that I was the oddmother out.

I found out that most of my friends have their children’s computers locked down andtricked out with every kind of safety bell and whistle possible. In addition,many of them make sure that the computer is in a common room of the house, sothat they can further control the activity. I have heard this advice before andcan certainly understand the concern we have for the safety of our children.There are some freaks out there and we want to put up as much of a protectivebarrier as possible. Was I not creating enough of a roadblock? Was I the “horrible”mother? The one who forgets to sign the class trip slips, forgets snacks onsnack day… the one who doesn’t protect her kids from crazed Internet predators? For a moment, I wondered, but then I remembered that everyone has a different parenting style.

When our children, now 18 and 12, first started emailing, wedid have their incoming communications forwarded to our email addresses, buteventually we stopped, and beyond that, they have a very minimum of policing. Did my son, at the age of 11 or so, Google “Boobs”and come up with more than he bargained for? Yes, but he survived, unscathed.

My husband and I spend a lot of time with our children, wetalk, we listen, and we talk. Since they were little we have had theconversations: “You know never to give your address or personal information toanyone online, right?” ” You know never to meet anyone who pretends to be yourfriend on Facebook, right?” To which they respond, “Duh, Mom!!”

They are not perfect, they certainly do some stupid stuff, but they have some sense. I was an only child, the focus of my parents’lives. They knew my friends, they knew where I was, and they learned how totrust me to make the right decisions. And you know what? Most of the time Idid. Yes, those were different Internet-free times, but much of this is abouttrust and letting go. You try to set the ground rules for life and they pray that theylearn how to implement them. They need to see things and learn what to filterout on their own, it’s a survival skill. I understand protection, I’m a parent, after all, but I trust mychildren on this. Call me crazy, but, knock on wood, so far it’s working.

Every parent needs to follow his or her gut when it comes tothese things. If 24/7 surveillance is what you’re feeling, you’ve got to go forthat. It just doesn’t feel like the right thing for my family. However, were I too see any particularly odd behavioral patternsor weirdness in my kids, and suspected that it had anything to do with theironline activities; I would be the first to go into Special Ops mode. May that time never come.

Damn You, Sanjay Gupta!

2012-01-11T12:46:00.000-08:00

It’s nothing personal and I’m sure if we were ever to meet, we would get along like a house on fire, it’s just that your CNN special, “The Last Heart Attack” with Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn Jr., and your interview with the now heart-healthy and skinny vegan, former president, Bill Clinton, inspired my husband to make some changes. For those of you who missed it, Dr. Esselstyn promotes the “heart attack free diet,” which in his interpretation consists of no meat, no eggs, and no dairy.

“I think I’ll do that, too.” said the husband.
“…What… become a vegan?” I cringed, thinking of what an act of culinary acrobatics dinner time would become, feeding a vegan and two occasionally picky not-so-small children. Was I going to feel like a short order cook at mealtime? No cod fish for the girl, no cauliflower for the boy, no lovely spaghetti Bolognese for the man, and no fun for me.
“No, just a pescatarian.” he assured me. Ok, I thought, fish, I can deal with this. Yet for some reason, this change of routine, as healthy and honorable as its intentions were, irked me a little. On top of that, I was ashamed that I was irked!

I have to confess. Unless health, ethics, or religion requires it, I am not a fan of extreme diets. I am all about balance. Variety is the spice of life! Eating is such a joy. I don’t see evil lurking in sane quantities of carbs and sugar and I believe moderate amounts of animal protein can be alright.

Eating less meat is not exactly a total tragedy in my house. Our diet is varied and pretty healthy. We don’t eat meat every day, and when we do, it’s almost always the grass-fed variety. There was even year when I only ate fish. I was living in Italy at the time and spending the holidays at my brother in law’s farm in Tuscany. On Christmas morning, a beautiful little calf, Natalina, was born and we went down to see her. She looked at me with her big brown eyes and licked my hand. (I grew up in New York City with little direct cow contact, so this was pretty special.) When we returned to the house, Christmas lunch was on the table. What was it, you ask? A roast. I pushed it around my plate, thinking of poor Natalina, and reached for the vegetables. It is an odd thing, and surely horrible thing, to like animals but then eat them, and yet my reserve lasted for about a year. I was seduced by a grilled hot dog, and I fell off the wagon.

Last year my family gave up meat for Lent because my son decided that he wanted to give it a try (we aren’t even a Catholic family, but the kid always gives something up every year anyway.) My husband had been flirting with the idea for years and it turned out he didn’t miss it -- at all. He said that he even felt better. I did fine, most of the time, but occasionally, I missed it. And, truthfully, I didn’t really feel any better. After the 40 days was over, I realized that while I was quite happy to eat less meat, I honestly didn’t want to say no to my Sunday bacon (Flying Pigs Farm…hello lover), my monthly Shackburger, or the occasional treat of Di Palo’s prosciutto. (And, OK, even a rare I-don’t-know-what’s-in-this-but-love-it, Gray’s Papaya hot dog.) My somewhat carnivorous kids didn't want to give it up either. My daughter, who is all the width of a pencil and has to eat, or she’ll vanish, will pull me to the side and plead, “Meat tonight. Please.”

Here we are, about four months later. I stand by my man, and his heart. I’m glad he’s doing what he feels he needs to do to stay healthy, and I am very grateful that he hasn’t become to preachy or smug about his new diet. For my part, it has made me more thoughtful about choosing meat, and I do try to find other alternatives when I can. Still, on some days when I’m not feeling creative in the kitchen, I curse Sanjay under my breath.

The Holiday Tipping Point

2011-12-17T08:03:00.000-08:00

Every year I can see it coming in my apartment building. The floors are waxed to a dazzling shine, the walls get fresh splash of paint, the super responds more promptly to my funky drain, and the handy man suddenly learns how to smile in the morning. It’s tipping time! Happy holidays and happy headaches trying to figure out how much to tip, or what to give when your cash flow is as dry as the Sahara--thank you, crappy economy.

The holidays are a time when we’d like to give special thanks to those who make our lives easier, our nannies and children’s teachers, cleaning ladies, building personnel, and our hairdressers or barbers. Often, that special “thank you” is expressed with cash. However, in these lean and mean times, everyone has to be a little more creative with what they give, and little more flexible with what they receive.

In fact, I had nice little chat on The Today Show with Hoda and Kathie Lee on the subject.
Click here to see the video

If you your cash flow is limited, here are some things to keep in mind:

Do not feel obliged to dole out cash if it’s going to wreck your budget and cause hardship.
Tap into your creativity. Do you make a mean tomato sauce, jam, or fudge? Invest in pretty jars, boxes and labels, and get thee to the kitchen.
Use your skill set. If you are a savvy business person, give an hour or so of your time to help the super get his side business together. Are you good a math wiz? Offer to tutor your hairdresser’s son for a few hours. Are you an ace fundraiser? If your personal assistant is passionate about a charity, work a few hours in his or her name.
Write a beautiful card and put your heart in it. Especially if you’re not one of those people who tend to be demonstrative during the year, let the recipient know what their efforts mean to you.

If you are giving cash, here are some guidelines (And while you’re at it, go the extra mile -- don’t give those crumpled bills in your wallet. Stop by the bank for crisp ones!):

Nanny & Cleaning Lady: One to two week’s pay, depending on her tenure. Now, if you have a new person working for you, you can give her half of that. Include a note that you looking forward to longstanding relationship.
Babysitter: One or two night’s pay.
Building Super: $40 to $100. (Sometimes this can be even more, especially in big cities.)
Doorman: $25 to $100, if you have multiple doormen, $15 to $30 per guy.
Handy Man: $15 to $40. (With the latter three, if you tend to tip them generously throughout the year, you can bring it down a bit.)

Hairdresser, barber, or beautician: The cost of one haircut or treatment, or half that plus a small treat and a note.
Landscaper: $20 to $50.
Dog Walker: One to two week’s pay.
Newspaper Delivery guy/girl: $10 to $30.
Postal Workers: They are not allowed to accept cash, but gifts that don’t exceed the cost of $20 are appreciated.

No cash, for teachers (not allowed), but we love them.
They can’t and shouldn’t accept cash, but a small gift (gift cards for dinner, movies and books are popular) and a heartfelt note from you and your child are good choices. Check your school’s policy on gifting to make sure you don’t create an embarrassing situation.

So...give, but not until it hurts!

Wrapper's Delight

2011-12-09T13:36:00.001-08:00

I just came from a shoot for Mommy in Chief, a web series on the Madame Noire website. I got to chat with lovely host, Karyn Parsons, about all things wrap.

During the holiday season, household trash increases by about 25%, resulting in 5 million extra tons of garbage. Add to that the money spent on paper, and you realize how much waste we're putting out there.

It pays to get creative. Gift wrapping happens all year long, so you might as well make it cost effective, make it green, and have some fun with it.

I remember once reading that Candy Spelling, the late producer Aaron Spelling's wife, had a whole room just for gift wrapping...it was intense.Well, I have a messy little shelf where I store a few things --when I remember. Here are some items that can come in handy:

Old Newspapers, Magazines, Comics, and Maps
These are all terrific because you can custom wrap accordingly. The comics for a child, or the child at heart; the maps for the globetrotter; the pages of W for your style maven friend, etc. You can also do the same with any old maps you might have; they're colorful and unexpected. Your only extra cost here is ribbon, so just add something bright and festive and you've created a lovely personalized package.

Fabric Remnants
Fabric remnants are also a great way to go. I have small bolts that have come back as gifts from India and Africa. Beautiful stuff, but I'm probably not going to learn to sew that perfect little pencil skirt, so I put the fabric to better use. You might have some pieces like this sitting in your closet; or perhaps some curtains or a table cloth sitting around. Invest in some craft scissors to even out edges and tie it all up with some pretty yarn or twine. You can even add a contrasting color fabric to create a bow.

Butcher Paper in White and Brown
Butcher paper is a great investment, and you can buy recycled versions as well. Generally, for about $20, you can get huge rolls of paper. It can be used for any holiday or occasion, allowing you to custom decorate with colorful stamps and stickers. Kids really love helping out here, so put them to work!
You can add natural touches, like a bit of pine branch, pine cone, cinnamon sticks, dried flowers (borrow elements from potpourri that has lost its scent), or the shells you've collected over the years, etc. A glue gun will probably work best here, but if I've lost you at the mention of "glue gun," (I can get lost there too), a nice glob of Elmer's generally works fine.

Gift as Wrap:
Sometimes you don't even need paper. Giving something like a scarf and gloves? As artfully as you can, roll the scarf around the gloves, tie with a nice thick bow, and let the fringe spill out on top. A gift such a serving spoons looks great wrapped in a pretty dishtowel tied with ribbon.

More Tips:

Save greeting cards: They can be repurposed as gift tags. Just cut them neatly into squares, punch a hole in a corner, and add some ribbon.

Keep some old wrapping paper and tissue paper on hand:
No, I'm not suggesting that you hoard, but some of that old paper can come in handy. You can run it through a paper shredder and use it as pretty, festive padding for fragile gifts.

And that's a wrap.

Confessions of a Reluctant Weaver

2011-11-28T05:52:00.001-08:00

I had contemplated a hair weave for a hot second back in the 80s when so many of us lusted after Lisa Bonet's flowing curls. But I quickly realized that I couldn’t be bothered and never gave it another thought. That is, until recently.

About a year ago, when the grays started to taunt me a little too much, I thought, instead of just covering them up, why not get a little color too? I have always played it so safe with my hair, so it was a big step for me. I did some investigation at what I hoped was a trusted salon, and went for it. I loved my deep honey-toned hair, until slowly, over the course of year, it got drier, thinner, wispier, and then, worst of all, started to break. I knew that it is considered a risk to use permanent color on relaxed hair, but I thought my hair could take it. Not ready to cut it short and leave it natural, like a sensible person (I’ve done that twice and hated that in between growth period), I realized that the question was... to weave or not to weave?

Many women wouldn’t have thought twice about getting a weave or adding a few pieces, but I clearly I harbored a secret distain for it. Not when it came to other people, but for myself. While I couldn’t really pretend that my relaxed and colored hair was natural, at least it was what was actually growing out of my head! The idea of a weave seemed extremely phony, like Housewives franchise phony, something that would turn me into a high maintenance hair whore.

Chris Rock’s documentary, Good Hair, didn’t help. Oh, I laughed alright, it was funny, and I don’t know what made me feel like Mr. Rock was the boss of my hair, yet somehow his snarky voice-over played over and over in my head and made me feel like a traitor for entertaining the thought. But timing is everything. I am lucky to have a trusted friend (glamorous and exotic, but not high maintenance) who recently added a little something something to her hair. She looked fantastic and I realized I was being silly. Why shouldn’t I look better? Why should I limit myself? Why be ashamed?

Like scores of women, both black and white, store-bought hair is often the explanation behind not only cascading locks (Look around. If you didn’t notice it before, you will now. Who has that much hair?!), but for many of those perfect little pixie cuts or bobs out there. My occasional on camera work kind of requires that I looked as pulled together as possible, and my poor hair was no longer up to the task.

At my friend’s suggestion, I decided to head out to a salon on Church Avenue in Brooklyn to have a consultation, and possibly get the weave done. Worst case scenario, I’d grab a Jamaican beef patty or a Trinidadian Doubles on my way home. There I met Candi, a lovely woman from Trinidad who is a bit of a hair whisperer. Affordable and knowledgeable, she explained that my hair was indeed fatigued and broken, and that a weave would give my natural locks a rest from color and relaxer, as well as the manipulation of blow dryers and curling irons. I went for it.

All around me were women getting weaves put in or taken out, and I realized that because of all the years I spent frequenting Dominican hair salons (I love a $20 wash and set, sue me), I wasn't used to seeing the whole process. So many styles, so many colors! I was as fascinated as Margaret Mead in Samoa! I sat in Candi's chair, bugging her with constant questions, as she cornrowed a little cinnamon bun looking circle of braids in my hair and then skillfully sewed in freshly purchased hair to match my color. I went in with lank locks and came out with volume an umph. I wasn’t about to try to pull off a Beyonce. I wanted to look like me, only new and improved, and that’s what I got.

It has been about a week now, and I have to admit, I’m still getting used to having all of this extra stuff on my head. Sometimes I feel like I'm a cross between a Chia Pet and My Little Pony. (Oh ladies, how do you do it?) It is also nuisance to wrap it up at night in a silk scarf, like I'm supposed to. My daughter refers to me as Tupac, and my son serenades me with "Shortnin' Bread," but that little scarf does keep every hair in place.

There will be a learning curve as I figure out how to take care of this baby properly.What happens to it in the summer when I hit the sun, sand and surf? How will it hold up in a steamy Bikram yoga room? So many questions, but if I can give my own hair a break for six months or so, all this weirdness might be worth it.

Yes, somewhere out there, Chris Rock is probably shaking his head in disapproval—another Black woman bites the dust, but I'm starting to enjoy it and let the guilt go. As Candi so wisely put it, “That is your hair-- you bought it!”

Pre-Weave

Post-Weave

It's a Dinner Party, Not a Firing Squad

2011-11-18T10:57:00.000-08:00

When I lived in Italy many years ago, it was all about the dinner party--planned or impromptu. My husband and I were either hosting one or attending one. Having people over for a meal wasn’t something reserved for weekends or special occasions; it was just what everyone did. Some made elaborate meals, others just simple pasta and a salad; some had spotless homes, others, not so much, but mostly it was about putting something together and enjoying it in the company of friends. It wasn't about perfection--which made it all the more perfect. When I moved back to America, I looked for my beloved dinner parties. Where were they? Aside from a small handful of folks, many of my New York people were either too overwhelmed with their lives, too anxious about what to serve, too panicked about mismatched plates, or just frozen in their tracks, generally unable to cope with the whole idea.

For the dinner party-phobic, I offer a few suggestions:

First of all, if someone has accepted your invitation to dinner it’s because they would like to spend time with you. Yes, they want to eat, and no, they don’t want to eat badly, but essentially they are coming for the company.
Start small. Four to six people at the most. Once you get past that, bigger proportions and altering recipes can be daunting for a novice. Don’t overwhelm yourself at first.

Keep it simple. Is your soup terrific? Make a meal of it. Is your roast chicken sublime? Own it and serve it. Experiment later, but for now, stick with what you're good at.

Prep as much as you can beforehand. Do anything that you'd rather not have your guest see you doing, chop anything that's messy or tedious, wash and dry the salad, set out your ingredients (pretend it's you're putting on your own cooking show if it makes you feel inspired), get pots, pans, platters, and serving utensils ready. Set the table, which brings us to the next tip...

Stock up on basic dinnerware. The "My plates are ugly, my wine glasses don't match, my blah, blah isn't up to par" whine can only take you so far. Hit places like Ikea and stock up on simple plates, glasses, silverware, tablecloths and napkins. Or you can mix and match artfully with what you have, embrace your eclectic side. That blue plate might be lovely next to the orange one. However, if you have the really good stuff, by all means use it. What are you really saving it for anyway?

Throw in something pretty, for good measure. A few low candles and small bunches of flowers make your guests feel a little extra special.

Hit play. I love music playing softly in the background, it just warms the atmosphere. (You can't go wrong with Ella or Billie, I'm just saying.)

Raise a glass. Or a few. Wine is lovely... If you don't know a Pinot Gris from a Rioja, find a good wine shop in your area and make nice with the salespeople to see what you can learn. Make sure you remember keep something non-alcoholic and festive on the table for those who opt out.

Have fun! You are with your friends, hopefully enjoying a good meal. The Food Network isn't stopping by to critique your meal. Not this time, anyway.

What are your secrets to a successful dinner party?

Have you been served...seafood risotto, again?

2011-11-12T12:05:00.001-08:00

Years ago, I used to scoff at the idea of making a menu diary for each of my dinner parties. You know, logging down what you made for x,y, and x so you don't serve it to them again. It was too June Cleaver for me, too Martha. I was too busy for such domestic organization Well, I’m starting to see that it’s not such bad idea. My husband and I entertain quite a bit, and while our guests might be happy to have seafood risotto again, we don't really want to repeat a dish-- unless it's on purpose.

Ok, maybe I will start doing it--as much as it goes against my nature. Do you keep track of what you feed your guests?