A Life Changing Facial
To describe a facial as “life changing” sounds dramatic. Absurd, even. The kind of thing that I would roll my eyes at, and perhaps even guffaw over. So let’s take a deep breath as I become one of those people.
To describe a facial as “life changing” sounds dramatic. Absurd, even. The kind of thing that I would roll my eyes at, and perhaps even guffaw over. So let’s take a deep breath as I become one of those people.
Picture your day thus far. You woke up and checked your email, which included one from The TIG. You texted your friends, and played catch up, not even fully using words, but instead with stylized cartoonish graphics that have somehow made the leap from schoolgirl favored to middle aged appropriate (cha cha-ing dancer & jazz hands, anyone?).
Draw your own box. White. Black. Hispanic. Asian/Pacific Islander.
Those were the only four options available for me to check as my ethnicity in my 7th grade English class. Choose one.
Zane. Rachel Zane. The savvy paralegal/lawyer in training/confidante to Donna and Louis/lady to Mr. Mike Ross on Suits. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of the law, an ambition that trumps (well) Trump, himself, and a closet that rivals Olivia Palermo’s (or Lauren Santo Domingo depending on who you fawn over).
Sometimes you meet a makeup artist that is so beautiful, skin so flawless, eyes so clear, that you’re fairly certain she’s landed on the wrong side of the camera. This is what happened when I was set to get glam for The Critics Association panel for Suits, and in walked Kayleen McAdams – celebrity makeup artist to the stars, and coveted by the likes of Sofia Vergara and Jessica Biel – that Kayleen McAdams.
Interested in channeling your inner Jean Seberg in Breathless? That ooh-la-la, je ne sais quoi that designers today, from Rodarte to Marc Jacobs, pepper into their collections. Think unfussy striped dresses, a sweet rounded collar, perhaps some little ladylike gloves.
Perhaps it’s the girly girl in me. Maybe it’s the fact that if given the choice between punk and pretty, I will always vote for pretty. For women looking like ladies. For the opportunity to wow with class and grace and fairytale level ball gown beauty.
I have to be honest when I say that I don’t really remember playing dress up as a little girl. No vivid memories of twirling in front of the mirror or sliding into my mom’s heels. The irony of this is noteworthy given my job on Suits, where, yes, we act, and yes, we emote, but we also play some serious dress up.
Bohemian Bourgeois, aptly nicknamed “bobo” by les Parisiennes, refers to a fusion of social classes, much like “Champagne socialists” in the UK, or “limousine liberals” in the states. And as loaded as all of that may be, let’s just for a moment, put the political suggestion to the side and simply talk about what it means to be “bobo chic.”
Am I wearing Tom or Nina for this scene? That’s Suits speak for the $5000 Tom Ford skirt I find myself wiggling in to, or the Nina Ricci cashmere and lace sweater that will be delicately peeled off of my body (so as to protect the perfectly pointed craftsmanship) after a long day of work.