Thank you, come again.

At the salon I met a cute guy. I had a crush on him instantly. He looked so much like the actor from Slumdog Millionaire. He stared at my appointment book and lingered around the reception desk, I think he liked me too.

I asked him his name and he said it was Siddarth.

He was no taller than a meter stick so I asked him his age. It turns out he was a little too young for me. We confirmed that he was in Grade 2, but he confessed in his cute accent that he was much smaller than the Grade 1 kids and that they could easily pick him up.

"I am so weak" he said in a deadpan manner. It made me laugh.

He took the handful of chocolates that I offered and off he went to continue his journey leaving me behind like Latika on the train tracks. Heartbreaker.

When in doubt

Tell the truth.

It'll set you free.

Letters from GP

On September 25, 2008 I received my first letter from Gwyneth Paltrow. She shared with me her passions in life and told me that I should be expecting more letters from her about things to make, see, get, do, and be. I savoured her letters and anticipated their weekly arrival. Each one was refreshing in its own way. Sometimes she would tell me about her favourite dishes to cook, sometimes it was of the romantic places she visited in Paris, and sometimes she made me question the way I lived my life.

I suppose I should mention that it was more of a one-way correspondence. And that these letters were e-mails. And that I had subscribed to her weekly newsletter.

I admire Gwyneth Paltrow. As an actress I never considered her to be very entertaining or memorable... but as a woman simply writing about her life and passions, she is a heavenly thing. Her writing style, lifestyle choices, and enlightening discussions appeal to me. She often questions simple things about human nature and has leading figures (like Deepak Chopra) provide their personal insight.

On the topic of the purpose of giving, Deepak Chopra expressed this:

"Looking around, one realizes that giving everything is the most natural way. You and I are here because Nature stinted in nothing. The air, the sky, the plant and animal kingdoms enrich the earth freely. The creative source that gave rise to life allowed single-celled algae and bacteria to evolve into the human brain, the most complex structure in the known universe. When the spirit of life really sinks in, and we realize the incredible gift we've received, the only possible act of appreciation is to give back with equal generosity."

I mull over the diverse perspectives provided by these spiritual leaders and end up in my own personal reflection. These contemplations are not life-changing but amidst an inbox full of superficial e-mails from Glamour on topics like "A Trick for Making your Cleavage Look Extra Awesome"*, it's a welcome break.

Although I immediately think of Shallow Hal when I think of Gwyneth Paltrow's acting career, there's little that's shallow about her newsletter. Get enriched.

*It's contouring using body shimmer and bronzer...in case any of you were curious.

Foreign Tongue

Wiktionary says:

Noun

foreign tongue (plural foreign tongues)

1. Any language not native to particular person or place.

Monica says:

Noun

foreign tongue (plural foreign tongues [and ill-advised])

1. When you don't understand the words coming out of someone's mouth.
2. When you find a stranger's tongue in your mouth.
3. A good way to get herpes. On your mouth.

I've had some experience with #1 and #2, and thankfully not #3. Enjoy.

Someone get this boy a GPS.

It was a cool summer night, I was at a party and a cute acquaintance of mine had asked me to go on an outdoors walk with him. I enjoyed the funny way he ate nachos so I had agreed - did I mention he was cute? Note: He ate nachos in a slow-motioned manner because he was under the influence of many substances, as I would later discover.

Him: "I'm surprised you agreed to go on this walk with me."

I ask, "Why?"

Him: "Because I have no sense of direction."

Me: "Oh, don't worry about it I know where the path is."

Him: "No, I mean in life."

Me:

After a few more moments of silence I was still dumbfounded. A normal person would've taken this as a golden opportunity to make a lame excuse and return to the comfortable haven of familiar friends. Being the perverse person that I am I decided to go along with it and see how bad it could get. He had verbal diarrhea and I felt for him. It became apparent that he was out of his mind and although he spoke English the sentences no longer made sense so I zoned him out and started looking for the Big Dipper while he continued to babble beside me. That's what I get for being perverse.

Take home lesson: Don't be a pervert.

When in Rome.

It was a Sunday night in Rome and my friend and I befriended two dashing young men from Vancouver and Miami at the internet lounge. Miami was fluent in many languages and knew all the Argentinians staying at the same youth hostel as us. We rounded up the rest of our friends to go hit the club with Vancouver, Miami, and the Argentinians. At the club, the loudest, rowdiest Argentinian invited me for tequila at the bar. I happily tagged along and after we took the shot he planted one on me like I was his lime. Again, I was struck dumb and he spoke to me in broken English only to further my state of confusion. That was my first kiss with a stranger. Although it's fun to say that I got to make out with an Argentinian dude in Europe, the experience wasn't very thrilling. He must have known because I burst out laughing once the wheels in my head resumed turning.

As a result, I kept a low profile for the rest of my stay in Rome. Especially since the Argentinians were conveniently staying on the same floor as us. I thought that was the last of Ferrerico that I would see but while reviewing the vast collection of videos from our Europe trip, my sister called me over to watch something. To my horror it was of a drunken Ferrerico stumbling on the street towards the camera and letting loose - what I can only assume to be - a slew of expletives in his foreign tongue. Followed by 5 seconds of his wagging tongue. My sister chose that moment to pause the video and laugh at me. It was a good opportunity for me to reflect. And die a little bit inside.

Take home lesson: Embarrassing memories are fun to look back on but get rid of the kind that can be re-wound, fast-forwarded, and re-played by others.

Re-Tales of a Shop Girl

I could really start a website on the adventures of being a manager in the retail world. You encounter every shade of wonderful and zany people. It really opens your eyes to different personalities and how quickly things can turn sour if you read a person wrong. I'll recount one 're-tale' that happened recently.

I arrive at work and occupy myself with morning duties. Young man enters. I glance at him to acknowledge his existence and leave him to my fellow shop girls to attend to. He walks to a shelf and steals glances at me. I watch him in return. He thinks I'm interested, I think he's about to shoplift.

He requests my help so I walk over, guard up and ready to grumble. He tells me he's interested in finding a good facial scrub (meanwhile he's been browsing hair products). I pick up on the inconsistency of his story and it furthers my belief that he's up to no good. I had that part right. In between unfocused and inane questions about the products, he inquires about my ethnicity and comments on my appearance. At this point the alarms are ringing in my head. The cloud of confusion settles and I understand his true intentions. Despite my new-found enlightenment I try to close the sale but he leaves empty-handed.

My fellow shop girl tells me that he balked at the $14 price-tag on the scrub and claimed, "I might as well wash my face with bar soap!" I laughed at that and thought to myself if he can't afford a $14 scrub, he can't afford to be taking me out.

I receive a call to the store from him minutes later and - as anticipated - he asks me out for a date. I firmly reply that I'm uninterested and unavailable.

As I hang up I realize we both had one thing in common: We don't want no scrub.

Cue: TLC's hit song.

Lessons from Madonna

Imagine that we were living in a world where designers were doctors and clothes became patients. A material world.

In this world, clothes get old. They become dated, less desirable. Wrinkles form...areas start to sag... and they wind up spending more time hanging out at home than going out for a night on the town. Sound familiar? Designers respond to the aging crisis by developing new anti-aging procedures. The solution? Going under the scissor for some minor enhancements with major results - a little snip-and-tuck.

Luckily for this material girl, this material world exists.

Behold: From simply conservative to sexy cut-out.

What's your take on the expression that less is more? Despite my material girl nature, I hole-heartedly agree with it.

À la mode in Europe

Last year after graduating from university a few friends and I decided to check off 'Europe Backpacking Trip' from our list of "Things to Do Before We Have Real Responsibilities like Mortagages, Marriages, and Babies". I'd like to clarify that when I say backpacking, I mean luggag-ing. None of us could actually live out of a backpack for 2 weeks; we were going to the fashion capitals of the world so how could we afford to look like tourists?! Truth be told, my bare essentials would be 1) my Nikon  2) comfy clothes 3) flats. Those items alone would fill up a backpack.

Everyone had their own agenda when we arrived. The guys wanted to visit soccer stadiums, the girls wanted to go shopping, and I really wanted to take a lot of pictures. Of everything. I found the store display windows really neat so I captured mementos from Rome, Cannes, and Paris.

Here is my snap-happy collection of European fashion. After all, they are the Little-Bo-Peep of the fashionable world and we're the faithful sheep.

The View from the Nosebleed Section

One day I would like to be front row. Not way back in the bleachers where the general public sit. But alas, I'm publicly general. A couple of years ago I started attending shows when I discovered that such shows were available to my kind. Here are my highlights from the ELLE, LG, and F.A.T. fashion shows. I try not to blink too often in fear of missing something exciting. The attendees are all so beautiful and freakishly tall. Their statuesque stature isn't natural of course. I'd find myself scanning the floor for a pair of easily identifiable Christian Louboutins (with its signature red sole) and I'm greeted with a sea of sky-high stilettos. The incredible part is they carry themselves like they have Crocs on. That's true talent. I enjoy wearing heels too but you'll never find me in stilettos - that's asking for a guaranteed face-plant. The embarrassment simply isn't worth the effort.

There's something so feminine and empowering about the fashion industry. At these shows you feel an understated hum of energy. We collectively sit there politely whispering about the model sashaying down the runway, the clothes draped on her, or the famous face spotted in the front row but everyone is aware that they too are on display. Once the lights go on another show begins. Meticulous thought is put into hair, makeup, clothes, accessories, shoes, right down to the details of the nails but every woman acts like it came together effortlessly. That's the illusion of beauty. I wouldn't call myself a slave to fashion because that implies that it's against my own will. I am a devotee to the fashion world; it's frivolous, fanciful, and freeing. And on second thought...if I ever had the chance to go to a show in Paris or Milan you could classify me as general public any day.

Fancy, at first glance-y.

Cue: Kylie Minogue's Love At First Sight.

You stop dead in your tracks and do a double, sometimes triple take.

The attraction is immediate, the pull is irresistible...like someone's playing at your heart strings. Post lovestruck sighting, your mind is filled with nonsense and an obsession is born.

I'm not talking about a Hottie McTottie sighting, as fun as those are.

I am talking about something serious here.

That limited edition Prada purse, those bejewelled sandals and crystallized ballet slippers, that chain-strapped construction of a heavenly bag... and the rockin' dress that'll set you back a paycheque. Or two.

In these fanciful moments I empathize with Kate Winslet's character in the film, The Holiday. She speaks of love and says this, "There's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. It's called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert."

Dearest Kate, my heart aches too. I adore these objects, but they do not love me back. I will never be with them, and must continue my life coveting what can never be mine.

In these instances, crimes are committed. Crimes of the heart.

Exhibit A - The offenders.

My only hope is to go broke uniting with my loves... or find cheaper objects of obsession.

Dirty Secret or Dirty Habit?

The most marketable new products are ones that are based on convenience.

Sure, we could take the time to pour the eye make-up remover onto the Q-tip, but now there are Q-tips that contain the solution within (they function like a glowstick, snap it and watch the magic unfold).

We were taught to use brushes to apply eye shadows but now you can plop the colours on with a sticker.

We used to shampoo our hair when it was dirty...but now you can just spray on a powder?! They've been around for a long time but now they're getting wildly popular. Dry Shampoo. We can barely keep them on the shelves at work.

It's something commonly used in hospitals for patients unable to bathe during their stay (post-op, lack of mobility etc). So...what excuses do mobile, healthy people like us have for not keeping up with regular hygiene?

Saving time.

That's what all of these goods are marketed as - convenient time savers. If you're pressed for time and your hair is looking mighty oily or limp, spray on the dry shampoo and the powder is absorbed instantly into your hair to combat those excess oils. Fluff up your mane and you should have instant volume. I personally prefer the KMS Makeover spray over the Bed Head Dirty Secret - yes, I'm guilty of trying both.

They're great products that not only do they cater to busy people... the lazies are loving it! Therein lies the issue - good looking smelly people. If you ever encounter a female with amazing, voluminous hair but a less than impressive odour...you know her dirty little secret.