It started with a DIY turmeric face mask that my daughter discovered somewhere on the Internet. It was a miracle mask, apparently: it would help acne, rosacea, clogged pores, dullness, and give your skin...
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11
May
(This post is made possible with support from AARP’s Disrupt Aging.)
I don’t remember my mom being all that concerned about beauty or style when I was growing up. We were a religious family, and...
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So the other day there was this post on Jezebel about this photograph of Kate Moss and her daughter that had been photoshopped in the weird way that magazine photos usually get photoshopped, and...
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11
Aug
There's been some buzz in social media lately about how fraught with difficulty it is to turn forty years old. Which, whatever: been there, done that. I turned forty years old last year. At...
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7
Jul
There is a point where in the mystery of existence contradictions meet; where movement is not all movement and stillness is not all stillness; where the idea and the form, the within and the...
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15
Apr
A few weeks ago at SXSW in Austin, Texas, the lovely Karen Walrond sat me down and asked me a few questions about heartbreak. Not about the sad and the terrible and the woe-is-me of heartbreak, but about the beauty of heartbreak. And it was a wonderful and, I think, important conversation, because there is beauty in heartbreak, such that it’s actually misleading to call that exercising of the heart a break. The heart never really breaks. It pulls and stretches and moves and expands, and that movement can hurt terribly, but it’s not a movement toward breaking. The heart is not bone or ceramic or glass, Debbie Harry’s assertions notwithstanding. The heart, as I’ve said before, is a muscle. Its movements are extraordinary, even when they hurt. I needed to remind myself of that.
(Disclosure! This content series and the giveaway below is brought to you by Old Navy. Check out the Kids & Baby Sale in store with great deals starting at $5. And take inspiration from the fashion EXPLOSION that you’re about to witness below.)
I said that I would let Emilia style an outfit for me. And I did.
The snow is lovely, bright and deep / but she has promises to keep / and miles to go before she sleeps / and miles to go before she sleeps.
Frost’s classic poem is, of course, haunting in its original form, but is it any more haunting than a cold winter afternoon spent trying to entertain candy-cane-jacked, snow-mad kindergarteners who have already declared that they are ‘NOT SLEEPING UNTIL SANTA COMES MOMMY YOU CAN’T MAKE ME’? Is it? IS IT?
My mother always told me that I was beautiful.
"You are a beautiful, beautiful girl, sweetie," she would say, and I would reply - with much eye-rolling and heavy sighing - "you're my mother. You...
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8
Oct
Emilia contemplates an apple* in the abandoned orchard at the Samuel Wilmot Nature Area. From the looks of it, prelapsarian fruit** was probably not all that impressive.***
*I know, Eve was probably tempted by a...
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