Safe(r) cosmetics

Since I posted about environmental hazards I’ve began searching for safer, less chemically filled cosmetics for myself and da family. As stupid as it may sound, it had never even occurred to me that this was a really important aspect to your health and exposure, since 1-your skin is a very large surface to absorb chemicals, 2-just think in terms of sheer volume: I’ve been using make-up and skincare products almost every day and night for twenty years, and 3-what you put on your head may matter more than anywhere else due to the sheer number of veins and capillaries that can be found in your head (something we discovered not without some panic recently, when LP fell on his head and his tiny cut started bleeding like crazy). Thanks to blogger Marya who gave me the link to the Skin Deep Cosmetics Safety Database, which I used to have bookmarked but had lost.

And ohhhh… It’s really easy to get lost/discouraged/confused… A few principles I ended up stumbling upon: the main things to avoid are phthalates, which are thought to be endocrine disruptors, as well as parabens, which are widely used as preservatives and controversial (the industry says they’re safe, some say they could be carcinogenic). I’m not saying this to cry wolf and scare anyone, and I haven’t decided to join the Amish. I just want to use the precautionary stance, for one, and also this has become part of my more general process of questioning and rethinking what we eat and how we live.

Bad news for me, the sucker for all things nicely scented: artificial fragrances usually go hand in hand with parabens, and are usually associated with higher toxicity (oi!). Simpler products such as body lotions or moisturizers are usually less toxic than products with more complex or specific purposes, such as acne treatment, anti-aging, or sun protection. And also, many more products than I first thought about should be evaluated for toxicity, including the lip balm I apply compulsively all day long, antiperspirant, saline solution for contacts, toothpaste…

The Skin Deep database (which is quite comprehensive and hence a little confusing and even intimidating sometimes), rates the toxicity of products from 0 (no concern) to 10 (very high hazard). Each product is precisely labeled, sometimes even by skin type, formulation, and specific fragrance or color, so you almost need to have the product on hand in order to be sure that you’re looking at the correct one. In terms of science, it seems pretty thorough, with each ingredient listed as well as its related health/environmental concern, if any.

In terms of skincare/make-up routine, I’ve been using products from Clinique for about ten years. I expected the worst when I looked them up, but probably because they’re unscented, they were generally ranking on the “moderate hazard” range… A lot of their products I use daily, like the facial soap (3), cleanser (3), and eye make-up remover (4), have overall acceptable scores, and so I will probably keep them (for now, at least).

One aspect that appalled me was the toxicity of bath/shower products, especially the ones we used for LP… While the overall highest score for baby/childcare is 7, I found that two of the products I’ve been using ( L’Oreal Kids and Gerber Grins and Giggles), both 6, were among the most toxic! In fact, a lot of widespread brands with a “clean and gentle” image, including Aveeno and (expensive, renowned French brand) Mustela ranked extremely poorly!

Exactly like it is for organic/natural food, I know this transition will not be easy… For instance, I tried looking up brands that I perceived to be more natural, like Aveda, Origins, and Kiehl’s, but they had very similar results than Clinique's… I ended up finding an interesting selection of products at my local Loblaws (a supermarket), which I find a little ironic, but all the better. For LP especially, we found a lavender body wash (Earth’s Best Organics, 3) and an orange oil shampoo (Kiss my Face Kids, 2) that make easy replacements without sacrificing the scents I like. We’re still largely on a trial and error basis though, since I was a little pis*ed off to realize that the expensive Nature’s Gate Organic Blends shampoo I got still ranked at 6, which does not make it any better than the methylparaben-containing Garnier Fructis one M likes… Good lesson there: organic ingredients can apparently coexist with chemicals; get to know your stuff!

It seems next to impossible to fully eliminate artificial, potentially harmful chemicals in what goes onto your skin… I plan to continue searching and prioritizing: it probably matters less, for instance, if my eye liner or blush rank higher than say, my foundation or night cream. Still, everyday, there are a lot of better choices you can make, even among the range of mass-distributed products. Here are some comparisons which I believe are no-brainers:

Sunscreen (kids): California Baby (2), versus Coppertone Water Babies (6)

Sunscreen (adults): Ombrelle (4), versus Nivea Visage (8)

Antiperspirant: Secret Platinum (unscented) (2), versus Dove Invisible Solid (powder scent) (8)

Hand lotion: Neutrogena (3), versus Vaseline Intensive Care (10!)

Saline solution: Opti-Free (1), versus Bausch & Lomb (4)

Mascara: L’Oreal Voluminous (3), versus Cover Girl Professional (8*)

Nail Polish: L’Oreal Pro Manicure (2), versus Maybelline Express Finish (7*)

At-home hair-dyeing kits: Nice & Easy (2), versus Herbal Essence (10!*)

*this rating can vary slightly from color to color.

Didn't I tell you my co-workers are the best?

For the second year in a row, I’ve been raising money for Cookies for Kids Cancer, an organization founded by our New York friends Gretchen and Larry, for their 5 year-old Liam and all brave little fighters. My only goal was to exceed last year’s amount, $265 US (which at the time was around $300 CDN for me to raise).

I’ve been doing a lot of baking on my own, but also unexpectedly received some welcome help from work this year… It started when, just like that, a co-worker arrived one morning with a delicious, enormous batch of oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies for me to sell, jumpstarting my efforts by making me earn $115 without lifting a finger (except for collecting the money, that is).

I’ve then tried about every cookie recipe imaginable, from dark chocolate chunks to peanut butter cups to M&M to white chocolate-cranberry, much to the enjoyment of the people around me… And just when I was about to close the books, I received an e-mail from HR. Somehow they had learned about what I was doing and they wanted to do their part, too! So instead of ordering in catered snacks for a general meeting that was taking place last week, they sent me back to my Kitchen Aid mixer and oven and asked me to provide cookies and brownies for everyone in exchange of a $200 donation.

I am really happy to present my final tally: $473, which we decided to round up to $500. Due to a more favorable exchange rate this year, this means that I’ve just sent a $469 US money order to the organization… Thank you, everyone. From the bottom of my heart.

The power of pretend play

Overheard the other day, a conversation between LP, his garbage truck, and toy motorcycle.

To the truck: Now you have to go to work!

To the motorcycle: And you will go to daycare during this time. But don’t worry, the truck will come and pick you up right after work is finished.

To the truck: OK now your work is done, you go to daycare now!

To the motorcycle: See, the truck will always come and pick you up, and then you get to go home.

Turning to me: the motorcycle is really glad to be back home...

Me: And the truck is really glad to have picked up her dear munchkin.

Didn't you know? I'm a one-woman tourism bandwagon

Every time we take long drives here in Quebec (as we did two weekends ago), I always make the same observation: road signs are funny. OK, some are funnier than others, but I always think about the small team of designers working somewhere in a probably windowless, drab office at the Ministry of Transports, and can't help but wonder whether they're trying to find ways to bring a certain amount of subversion into their work...

A place where as soon as people sit together in a weird angle, it becomes crazy sunny

A place where you go so the whole family can catch matching flat bums

A place where cow manure is really taken seriously

A place where you can shout icicles off the roof









Did they just come up with the two most random things ever to combine on a same sign or what?








Let's go to that barn where we can throw our hands in the air like we just don't care...








Perhaps that's just me, but did you think this through?









A place where the nearly blind can go and use binoculars to watch a 2,000 pound friggin' moose chilling three feet away








I can almost hear the stick figure whistling, with a little spring on his step while he casually carries a damn heavy, uncannily symmetrical fir out of the forest (without an axe in sight)...







Was I the only one who couldn't help but see disgusting Nazi undertones into this?








You wouldn't believe how cuddly and mellow the large wild animals are in this reserve...






I really hope that's not a sign announcing a china shop.









At this point you're probably all dying to come visit, are you?

My problem with "gifted"

In the last couple of weeks I’ve been reading a lot of parenting resources, on “highly sensitive”, “anxious and perceptive”, “spirited”, or simply “intense” children. And while it has been really helpful, there’s a whole aspect to this kind of reading that kind of makes me want to gag. That is, about each and every one cannot help but mention the fact that these kids are “gifted”, “exceptional”, “special”, or the like.

Now do I think my kid is special? Of course I do! I love him to death, he makes me happy, he brings me to tears, and he’s certainly smart and beautiful and funny and I carried him in my womb and he reminds me of myself so much and OMG, did he just do that? Wow!-, and all. All parents think that (or so I hope). He is precocious on certain things (very average on others), and there’s no doubt in my mind that emotional depth goes hand in hand with intellectual depth, to a certain extend…

But there’s a fine line between thinking that your kid is great and buying all that “gifted” stuff. I don’t think LP feeling and expressing things differently and much strongly than other kids makes him “gifted”, nor do I think it makes him less of anything. Here is what I don’t like about such labels:

1 – It seems we have truly come to an age where all children are “extra-special”, an expression we formulate in French as “enfant-roi” (king-child). All parents (and bloggers), like to tell of funny, and cute, and great things their kids did. But to me it must always be done with caution, not to the point of overdose, with a hefty dose of humor and showing that you do not take yourself too seriously (which I hope I’m able to communicate). Because otherwise, I’m sorry but I just find it incredibly self-serving and unpleasant. Sure, your kid is “special” –to you. Others can of course find him adorable and clever and whatever, I mean I do have a genuine interest in and attachment to the kids of people I know, that’s only normal. But how can you really keep a straight face and say that “my kid is objectively the most beautiful baby there ever was,” or that “you know, due to my kids’ giftedness they simply won’t be able to flourish in the traditional schooling system…” To me, that’s what is implied through the term “gifted”: that you think your kid is better than everyone else’s. And I don’t like this message.

2 – Two of my good friends (a married couple) have a similar background in the sense that they were both second children who came after a sibling who was considered “very gifted”. Their siblings were academic over-performers, award winners, really good-looking and super popular kids who came to achieve great things (finishing a PhD magna cum laude and becoming one of the youngest professors her university ever had for one, learning Japanese on his own on top of an engineering degree and eventually moving there for the other). And when talking about it, they both have the same feeling: that although it could have been really difficult and belittling and confusing for them to grow up in their shadows, it actually wasn’t. Because their parents had the same, sane and sensible reaction: to make them feel it was perfectly OK to be “average” and “normal”. They found other ways to praise them, never compared them, never extravagantly insisted on the older child's successes, never treated them differently, and took great lengths to free them from this pressure.

3- There’s also a certain element to it that makes me just plain uneasy, like that two year-old I heard about last week who became a member of MENSA. Seriously? Right, I’m suuure this was driven by the child in the first place… And not at all a total ego-trip from the parents, who can now officially brag that they’ve bred a proven genius. Sure, the kid is smart and he’ll surely grow up to become much smarter than most. But did he really need to do this, at 2, and live with what comes with it? It’s the same with Tiger Woods and the like: I don’t really admire what his dad did to bring him there, and can’t really find it inspiring. Because for all I know there’s probably still a bruised child inside of him, and for one Tiger, there are probably a thousand kids who just crack under this immense pressure and kill themselves.

So here’s what I’d like for LP: support his passions, nurture his self-esteem, encourage him to achieve his goals and even go further, teach him the value of hard work and persistence… But also let him be himself. Give him the right not to excel at everything, and not project our own unfulfilled dreams or aspirations into him. And be equally proud if he wants to become a doctor (like his grand-papa) or a construction worker (given his current obsession with all related equipment).

As far as I’m concerned, no one is “gifted” in our house.

Songbird

Suddenly, singing is becoming much more of importance for LP. Out of the blue, he's often bursting into song, which makes us laugh a lot, especially when we weren't the ones who taught the songs to him (grasping that he has a full life outside of the one he has with us at home is always fascinating). He's been recently overheard singing the following:

-While washing his hands-
On lave bien les mains (We're washing our hands good)
On croise les doigts (Fingers crossed)
Ensuite les poignets (Then the wrists)
Bye-bye les microbes (Bye-bye germs)
Allo les mains propres! (Hello clean hands!)

-After playing and making a mess-
Après avoir joué (After having played)
Il faut bien ranger... (We need to put things away...)

-While playing with his trucks-
Le camion sur le chemin (The truck on the road)
Roule, pout-pout-pout (Drive, honk-honk)
Il est chargé du bon grain (It's loaded with good grains)
Pour le pain du matin (For the morning's bread)

Unbeknowst to us, he's also learned a lot of classic French nursery rhymes, like Frère Jacques, Meunier, tu dors?, (Grain miller, are you sleeping?), Pomme de rainette et pomme d'api, Le roi, la reine et le petit prince, Sur le pont d'Avignon, and Savez-vous planter des choux? (Do you know how to sow cabbage?)

We find this last one (which goes: savez-vous planter des choux, à la mode, à la mode...) the funniest, because he likes to change the lyrics and adapt them to his daily life. For instance, he's sung: "On va faire des paninis (we'll make paninis), à la mode, à la mode..." or "On s'en va chez Home Depot (we're going to Home Depot), à la mode, à la mode..."

Happy birthday...

M is turning 37 today… I can’t believe how fast time flies! It’s the fifth birthday we celebrate together (but the first one since we've married).

So happy birthday, dear hubby. I love you, and even more as your hair is becoming gray… I wish I’d show you this through actions (as opposed to words) more. I would still choose you any second all over again.

The person you have become, part rebellious and stubborn teen that refuses to sell out and die, part confident and creative man, part wonderfully sarcastic and wry observer of the world, part lover making great efforts despite the little together time we have to keep our flame alive, and part doting, if slightly zany, father, is truly getting better with age, just like a delightfully layered fine wine.

Thank you so much for having made an honest woman out of me this year. Of course I'm joking, but I'm still not over the wonderful novelty of looking at you wearing your ring.

(And as much as I'm crazy for you, it's still no about that new motorcycle. I know you were planning on trying.)

Things I learned during our weekend of tending to other people's weddings

Expect the unexpected: The florist did not receive the dark red mini-carnations I had ordered and some of the roses were not the right shade at all, leaving me scrambling for alternatives. I knew better than to stress the brides over such things on the day before their wedding, so I had to make executive decisions. I replaced the carnations with mums, and found a suitable package of roses (which contained 25 stems instead of 12, but I convinced the guy to sell them to me at the same price). Also, by some miracle, they had received tulips, a rare, rare, rare occurrence at this time of year. Jenny had told me they were her favorite, so I took them in white and added them to her bouquet as a surprise for her.

Each flower is unique: some of them, like roses, tulips, and calla lilies, have one bloom per stem. However, some flowers had I never worked with for weddings like daisies, mums and carnations, have multiple (up to 5 of 6) blooms per stem, making it possible to order a bit less. I was able to use all the flowers when I made the centerpieces, but I could have done fine with some fewer stems of these (thus reducing costs a little).

My son is now pleasingly nearly autonomous: I had first thought about leaving LP at daycare while arranging the flowers at home on Friday afternoon, but after the tough couple of weeks he’s had I decided to take a chance and pick him up early instead. I know last year when I worked for both of my sisters’ wedding flowers it just would not have been possible to have him around, because he needed me way too much. But I’m glad I did it. Not only was he so happy (and very seriously told me “I’m really pleased you brought me home with you”), but he managed to do really well, “helping” me prepare the flowers and put them in water, fetching crackers (and feeding them to me while I was busy), bottled water, or a piece of fruit by himself, bringing me the dustpan and small broom (without me asking) after I made a mess of flower scraps, taking paper towels and wiping juice he had spilled on the floor… Of course he did insist for me to go play with him a few times, and I still needed to take him to the toilet, but overall he was really good at occupying himself, being patient, and understanding that I couldn’t give him my full attention at the moment. I’m so proud of him!

Flowers are REALLY my forte: both brides were really, really pleased with the results, saying it looked even better than the pictures they had sent me. This made me happier than I could say. The look on their faces, their joy and excitement, I found it very special. Jenny’s maid of honor later came to tell me that Jenny loved the flowers so much, she repeated four times how much she thought they were perfect. Before seeing themselves in their dress, I think the moment brides receive their bouquet is really the one that makes them realize that this is it, they are getting married! I also really enjoyed setting up the tables and helping to decorate the room in advance, because I thought it was a perfect mix of calm, anticipation and excitement build-up.

M and I make a great team: I first left him at the hotel so he could take getting ready pictures, while I went to the venue and decorated. But I picked him up after two hours and then barely left his side, because truly he was the one needing the most assistance. My first plan was to try and coordinate that everything went smoothly (and I did have to take care of a few things), but in the end everything was well-organized and planned at the venue and things were under control, thanks to a very good, take-charge maid of honor, helpful friends of the groom, and hired help –two food servers and two waiters were there. So during the whole thing my main job was to be the photographer’s assistant, something I clearly knew nothing about. But we were great at anticipating each others’ needs and reactions, as well as giving each other pointers. I liked that aspect of the experience a lot.

I am still not good with stress: Funny, we were both so invested in ensuring that these people’s weddings went well that I was way more stressed there than I ever was for my own wedding. M definitely felt the pressure too: obviously it’s something you’re not allowed to scr*w up, and these were tough conditions for a first wedding. While we were doing it, I was really focused and wasn’t thinking about anything else, but after we left I realized I had been so tense I could barely move my shoulders anymore, and was positively, completely, ridiculously ex.haus.ted. My back is still sore and hurting a bit, and I won’t tell you my bedtime of the last few nights, because you’ll totally tease me.

I am not a natural MC kind of person: I’m good with planning in advance, but when the real thing comes and you need to handle everything, multitask like a mad person, be able to be everywhere at the same time, resolve all snafus, and constantly act in a pinch, I’m not the best. I can do it, I’ve done it many times before, but I’m just not really enjoying myself.

After 10 PM my brain turns to jelly: I’ve always been like that, but I’ve wasted so much time, so many years, fighting it. Now I’ve come to an age where I just want to accept that this is how I am, an early bird for whom physical regularity (such as predictable mealtimes and bedtimes) is simply essential. I guess this makes me a prematurely elderly person, and that is the first step towards lining up to dine out at 4:45 PM. So be it.

Trust your instincts: something was telling me that Jenny and Stan would be good people, that we would be a good fit, and that with them us trying out how it is to do this for real would work well. And I was right. They turned out to be so fun, so fantastic, and so interesting, that we truly relished sharing their special day. Their emotion was genuine and palpable, their friends were so cool and talented (the show they presented was truly of professional caliber), and all of these people were so worth getting to know (Jenny’s dad, the perfect older Southern gentlemen, melt my heart when he told me, in his Tennessee twang, that he loved how I put daisies in his daughter’s bouquet, since this is what her mom had at their wedding).

In conclusion, my husband the perfectionist is pleased with his pictures, but not wowed (he was a bit disappointed in the sense that since it was a beautiful day and the trees were in all their fall foliage glory, he expected to be able to do golden ticket outdoor pics, which are usually a newlyweds pleaser). We haven’t given the pictures to them yet, but can’t wait to see what they think. And I’m just not sure this planner/coordinator thing is for me after all. More than anything, I'm always brought back to how this is really about doing the thing I love, and that is working with flowers.

Care to see them now?

Miriam’s bouquet – two kinds of autumn-colored roses, calla lilies, and hypericum, with orange satin ribbon.

Miriam’s boutonnieres: calla lily with hypericum and silk orange/fuschia ribbon.

Jenny’s bouquet: daisies, mini-carnations, white hypericum, and tulips, with white grosgrain ribbon.

Jenny's bridesmaids bouquets: daisies, mums, and hypericum, with red grosgrain ribbon.

Where the little dude is at

LP is doing better (and therefore I am feeling a little less fragile and sleeping better, too). But we’re still not back to how things were. We’re seeing a little improvement every day, even though he’s still slightly shaky and anxious when he gets to daycare; but at least now he quickly calms down after we leave and has good days. We found that he’s feeling more secure if we go through the plan of his day with him, and repeat it over and over again (he does it, as well). I try to reassure him as much as possible through physical contact, which has always been important to him. Other ideas and pointers (which we’ve kind of always known and done intuitively): some widespread parenting knowledge and techniques simply don’t work with him, so we need to be flexible and adapt to his cues. Sticking to routines makes a big difference, and so does preparing him ahead and explaining things as much as possible. Discipline and boundaries are really important but as the same time you need to do it in a way that will not further increase his insecurity and crush his self-esteem (which we recently realized can happen very quickly with such a kid), for instance by being firm, but not intransigent, and by empathizing always.

He is how he is, and we’re very aware that it’s our responsibility to make sure he grows up feeling that his high sensitivity/intensity isn’t a negative, or shameful, trait. We’ve always kind of known we had our work cut out for us with this one, and the idea is not to make him repress his emotions or anxiety, but just to be able to control and/or channel them somehow so his flights do not scare other people and become acceptable within this society (again he is not expressing aggressiveness when he does this, just utter despair). As he grows up, I think it will be crucial for him to find an outlet he likes, whether a sport, a hobby like music, or another art form (like writing has always been for me), and find ways to defuse anxiety by using positive thoughts, feelings and memories (it’s not working so well right now, because he’s still so young he’s way too overwhelmed by it, hence the importance of physical contact).

It is very important for us not to be too emotional when he’s not well, because he senses and absorbs this like crazy, but to tell you the truth that’s the thing we’re having the most trouble with, especially me. We’re all still learning and adjusting, but seeing him suffer –through things that used to be totally easy and natural to him-, is breaking my heart in ways I didn’t even expect. It’s making me relive a lot of things from my own childhood and how my parents’ reactions to my “difference” influenced the personality I now have a great deal, it’s making it harder to focus well on everything else, and it’s obviously bringing out the sear of wishing I would spend some more time with him during the week. You can tell has matured through this as well, and he is now asking new, tough questions: why do you have to go to work? Why do we need to earn money? Why can’t we all stay together all the time?

But despite our current rawness, we know over-protectiveness is not the way to go. For sure our first, irrational instinct was to keep him home for a few days, but at the same time we both knew (and this was confirmed by just about every book and our therapist) that this is counterproductive and sending him the message that he can take the easy way out. After all, he’ll soon be three, if we lived in France (or several other countries with similar systems), he would have started school already, and you can’t take him out of that, can you? We felt it was important to gently guide him through this and let him learn to deal with it, let him conquer his fear. He’s working on it really hard, and we’re extremely proud of him for it.

And oh, I thought I would let you know how the “real” drill went after all, the one where the fire department comes over. After anticipating the worst for two weeks (his fear had become a preoccupation for the entire daycare personnel, who were immensely proactive and helpful, especially his wonderful teacher, whom we will never thank enough because it was really trying at times for her), on Friday morning she decided to take the kids out for a walk a little earlier than usual. LP was dressed and walking out the door already when the fire truck arrived, and so he didn’t have to relive his traumatizing experience once more. He did become nervous when he saw the firemen, but quickly forgot about all of it when they started talking to him, saying his name (the director had called ahead and told them about the situation), and especially, waving him goodbye from the truck while ringing the siren a little.

Try this at home

Ricardo Larrivée is a chef who's seen as "Quebec's answer to Jamie Oliver", or so the Food Network Canada website says. His show is highly watchable - he has two different series in both official languages (his English is not perfect, but still fairly good, and I must say has improved a lot in the last few years). He has beautiful fluffy magazines that go with it, plus, he's just a nice character: husband of a breast cancer survivor, involved father to three girls...

I like his style of cooking: colorful, unfussy, festive, highlighting local and seasonal products... Every one of his recipes I've tried has been a success. But none have made me more eager to get cooking than his Vegetarian Indian Delight recent episode. Granted, I absolutely love Indian food. In restaurants. I mean, I sometimes make curries, but they're a bit basic level and I use store-bought pastes and spices. I am a little intimidated by this refined, elaborate and oh-so-flavorful cuisine, maybe more so than any other.

But he made everything look so simple, he got me totally inspired. Check it out: I assure you that the final display looked spectacular, with each dish elevating and highlighting the other like a flawless ensemble. I'm totally impressed about him making his own Nan bread (on a stone in the blaring oven); why did I never thought of that? The vegetarian courses look good enough, but I guess it would be easy to add chicken Tandoori to that (with store-bought paste, oh well). And serve it in little metal trays with compartments! OK, I'm getting carried away now...

Who wants to come over for dinner so I can try this meal out?

Wedding flowers, part 2

I've already talked a bit about the second wedding for which I'm doing the flowers tomorrow. Jenny, the American bride (who learned very good French!) will marry her Quebec City native fiancé at the theater where he used to work (he's a sound man for Robert Lepage). We did a package deal for that wedding: I'm doing the flowers, setting up the reception room, coordinating the reception, and... M got the gig as the photographer. She first asked for our own wedding photographers digits, but when they weren't available, M said hey, I could do it if they want to! I'm really excited about this, about how this will be a fantastic tryout for us. As I told her, it being in Quebec City is perfect for us because it means instant child care (hello, both grandmas!), which we don't readily have at home. As well as a free place to stay!

Just like M, yesterday's bride, Jenny decided not to do a bouquet throw because she thought the tradition was antiquated and it just didn't seem right to her to put her friends on the spot like that. She did ask for bouquets for her bridesmaids, as well as boutonnieres for everyone in their families (different decisions than the other bride... I love to see how people adapt to what suits them).

Her colors are black, white and dark red, and she wanted a "simple and classy" look. Since she has severe allergies and so do many people in the family, her flowers couldn't have a powerful smell, which added a level of challenge! She sent me her inspiration boards, and I could immediately see from them how creative she was.

Bridal Bouquet:

Bridesmaids bouquets:


Reception:

At first I thought about spider mums, dahlias, mini-roses, and perhaps asters, which have a "wildflower" look to them. But after meeting and visiting the florist I'm doing business with, we came up with a very different tally after all: she thought spider mums looked too contemporary, was not wild on roses, it was simply too late in the season for dahlias, and she didn't like how small asters were. I really appreciated her own take on things -I find it really stimulating to have my ideas challenged, and it made it much easier for me to understand the look she wanted.

In the end, we settled on daisies, mini-carnations (which smell is not as strong as the larger ones), and hypericum berries. Her bouquet will be white, and the bridesmaids' will be red (I chose an identical grosgrain ribbon in both colors). Boutonnieres will be made with mini-carnations, and tied with a small white grosgrain ribbon stitched in black. Funny I didn't know this before but she told me she used the same, but opposite ribbon (black with white stitching) for her invitations!

The wedding is at 8 PM, and so they will not be serving a full meal after the ceremony, but rather drinks and a buffet of desserts (I think more and more people are doing this, and I love that trend). Consequently, there will only be small cafe tables scattered around the room, which I will dress with tablecloths, votive candles and flowers. She has been collecting small vintage bottles and Mason jars for the occasion, which we will use as vessels, one or two stems for each one. We will also setup a photo booth, and a band consisting of the groom's friends will be responsible for making the 150 guests dance!

I love her vision, and can't wait to be part of the occasion. How fun! I will show you pictures and tell you all about it next week. Wish us luck and vive les mariés!

Putting on my florist hat

This weekend will be a big one. I have flowers for two different weddings to do, one here in Montreal, as well as one in Quebec City (two and a half hours away). The second one, which I will post about tomorrow, requires a little more planning and involvement, not to mention that my husband is also the photographer!

The first bride, M, is a stylish girl and fitness buff. She’s getting married to her longtime fiancé at their upscale gym, which I must add is equipped to host such events (don’t worry, no stair masters and stationary bikes in sight)!

She doesn’t really have a “theme” for the wedding, except that she wanted fall colors. Her dress is ivory with some touches of peach beading, so she asked me to do the flowers in peachy tones. She’s quite practical and was very flexible about flowers. Her only request was “warm, autumnal colors”. I always find it interesting to see how (other) brides do things, for instance, she only wants two boutonnieres –for the groom and best man-, and even though she does have a maid of honor she didn’t request a bouquet for her. I think it’s all good: there shouldn’t be any right or wrong way when it comes to weddings, and it really frustrated me that the tone of so many sources and references implied otherwise.

When we first talked she said: “My decorator told me I need to have an extra bouquet to toss to the single girls, so I can keep mine to dry.” I had no problem doing it whatsoever, but after a few minutes I realized she didn’t actually think this made much sense, she’s pretty much the last one to get married in her circle, for instance, and thought the whole custom was a little silly. I agreed –at the end of our wedding I simply handed out my bouquet to my dear friend MH, who was celebrating her first anniversary that day (yes, I guess we’ll always remember each other’s anniversaries from now on). Dried flowers are simply not my style, and I didn’t feel the need to save this keepsake for emotional reasons; I’d rather see my bouquet at its prime in photographs. Some might feel this need, and it’s fine, but my point is you shouldn’t have to do it unless it’s meaningful to you. When I told her this, she seemed very relieved and so we quickly ditched the idea. I will never understand that need to put brides under so much pressure over the smallest things…

This is what she sent me for inspiration:





Based on that, I found it pretty easy to "get" what she wanted, and we agreed to more or less recreate the bouquet from the last picture: roses in both pale peach and a darker rust color, calla lilies in orange-y tones, and hypericum berries. The boutonnieres will be calla lilies -which I know from trial and error experience are sturdy and durable enough-, with perhaps a few berries sprigs, wrapped in a small silk ribbon. I chose a warm orange satin ribbon for her bouquet.

A really interesting touch she asked me to add: her fiancé is a triathlete, who participated in several Ironman competitions. Every time, she would go and cheer him from the side by ringing a small cow bell, so that even though sometimes he couldn't see her he could hear she was there. She said he always loved this, so I will wrap the bell around her bouquet, tied in the back so it's barely visible. As she walks down the aisle, she will give her bouquet a little shake in order to ring the bell! I think it will be really fun, endearing, and will defuse the nervousness of the moment. I will tie the bell so that afterward, she can easily detach it and simply toss it aside.

Logistics-wise, I'm taking tomorrow afternoon off from work, so I can do as much as possible before my boys come back home. M will drop off the flowers on Friday night, while I continue working on the second wedding. On Saturday morning, we're off to Quebec City, where LP will happily go spend the day (and night) with my mother. To be continued tomorrow!

Two going on thirty-five

Over the weekend, while I was alone with LP, he had only one bit of relapse, during which he burst into tears saying that he didn't want to go to daycare anymore. Like the shrink suggested, I held him tight for a long time and let it pass, reassuring him, explaining to him, and also repeating our love for him, then repeating and repeating it again, kissing his sweet-smelling soft hair and beautiful wet cheeks.

When he calmed down, he told me, "I want to go for a walk". And although it was almost dinnertime and the weather wasn't that nice I nodded, surprised by this request he had never formulated before, surprised by his assertiveness. I dressed him warmly (me, not so much, in typical mommy fashion) and asked what he wanted to do. And he naturally took the lead: no, not the jogging stroller, he didn't want me to jog, just take a walk, I could put the chicken pot pie in the oven before we left so it would be ready when we came back, no, he didn't need a pull-up training diaper but he should wear mittens, and we should also bring a bottle of water, which he casually threw into the bottom compartment of his stroller exactly like I do. I suppose this is common but it was like suddenly seeing him grow up right before my eyes, instinctively trying to be a "big boy" after having let himself fall apart. Sweet boy, amazingly sensitive and simultaneously so resilient and strong.

Outside, he continued, making me turn around because he didn't want to walk that way (he knows where to go?, I marveled. He's 2 and I think it took me a year and a half of regular walks to feel totally confident I wouldn't get lost in our neighborhood). We arrived at the park, and he said, stop. I want to run here. Let's run here. So we did. It was cold and windy, there was no one in sight, and we just ran and ran together in the grass, until the stroller was just a little spot in the background. He was laughing, sometimes falling down, but quickly pulling himself back up and keeping on going again. That gleeful smile on his face was the best present I could receive.

And at this moment I was having the strange feeling that for once we were not a parent and her child, but more like peers or equals. It's not that I felt he had become an adult, but he certainly suddenly seemed wiser much beyond his 32 or so months, and also just then, he had brought me back to the magical, carefree world of childhood. Tricky misconception, I know. But I recommend running with a child in a deserted park under a cold wind and slightly eerie autumn atmosphere to anyone. It turned out to be exactly what we needed.

Unfortunately, the apple didn't fall far from the tree

LP is INTENSE. There's no other way to describe it. Even since he was a tiny baby, everything has always been "more". The happy days are pure magic, and the bad days seem to be a thousand times worse than anything other kids feel. We've managed. We're managing. He has good phases, during which we can't believe how marvelous and easy life is and think that we might have gotten through. Then often when we don't expect it we come back to yet another bad phase.

It's not that I want to paint him as a monster. 90% of the time he's wonderful, a great, bright, cute, talkative and perceptive little boy. But the remaining 10% often leaves us on a tailspin, taking on each other, feeling awful and helpless. If you meet him on a good day, you'll of course feel that I'm exaggerating and being dramatic, like I admit I can sometimes be. But invariably, people who have witnessed his bad days and have had to deal with it have the same response: they've never seen a child like that. Who's that intense, that needy, that distressed, that deeply affected by things, that emotionally loud, and that seemingly unable to get himself out of his dark mood and back into reality. Mere mortals saying it is one thing; but professionals (including every single person who's taken care of him at two different daycare centers and the medical personnel who dealt with him when he had surgery -at a children's hospital-) also saying it is another.

I'm telling you this as a bit of context before moving on to the horrible week we've just had. Every year around this time, the local fire department comes to daycare for a fire drill. They know around which dates it will happen but never exactly when. In order to prepare the kids and do some kind of a practice run, the daycare director decided to ring an alarm and make the teachers and kids get out. While last year LP did not react to this, something in that situation triggered a real, complete, primal fear in him. He spent the rest of the day crying, not wanting to eat or play, and even developing a low-grade fever that disappeared as soon as M picked him up (early, after they had called). Thinking that the right thing to do was to defuse the situation and prepare him for the "real" drill, I gently talked to him about the fact that it would happen again soon, with the firemen coming, trying to emphasize that it was no big deal.

Apparently this was NOT a good idea. This somehow sent him the message that daycare was not a safe place for him, and that this kind of terrifying situation could happen again at any moment. The firemen did not come over for the rest of the week, but LP kept on getting worse, to the point of not really functioning: crying all the time, having hysterical fits when we left him, barely eating, sobbing during his sleep, waking up constantly... As you may imagine, this sent the whole family into despair, as we couldn't think about anything else while at work (or outside of it, for that matter), and simply didn't know what to do. Trying to get him to talk about it, hugging him close and reassuring him, showing him pictures of last year's firemen visit didn't seem to help at all.

The three-day weekend was just what we needed I guess, to find ourselves again as a family, spend quality and close time together and take ourselves out of this crisis. LP went back to his own self, laughing, being silly and energetic, which made us immensely relieved. But unfortunately it's pretty clear that his anxiety has been transposed to daycare in general, instead of just the specific firedrill situation. This is hopefully, most likely temporary, but it breaks my heart nonetheless. Except for a few specific situations, he's always loved going there, and it's a terrific place we have put our entire trust in, so him dreading to go there and always having (really) bad days is not something I think I am cut out for.

The most difficult thing for both M and I has been to realize that his intensity and bouts of anxiety (which are somehow related) may not entirely belong to the realm of "normal" (whatever that means). We just so wish he simply wasn't that complex already, that he'd just be a easy-going, worry-free kid who didn't feel things quite so deeply! This crisis has shook us and we have felt hopeless enough times already to admit that we might need help. M did a bit of research and found a couple of interesting books on the topic, which I'm looking forward to receiving.

Additionally, we are also going to start seeing a therapist this week, one who has experience with this kind of thing. Just talking to him on the phone made me feel better already, and took me out of the black funk I had been into for the past few days. He says he can help us find strategies to deal with him, ways of understanding him (which I don't think will be that hard, see the title of this post), and to give him boundaries while also respecting his personality (his firedrill distress may be completely out of proportion, but to him, it's still painfully real and traumatizing). We would do anything to help him, try and find ways to make him feel safe, as well as "toughen" him up just the tiniest bit...

Where are we off to?

Today marks the start of a long weekend, for the Canadian Thanksgiving. As usual, the first thing LP asks when we announce an upcoming weekend is: "On va où?" (Where are we going?) I guess we had it coming. Yesterday he grabbed his foot-propelled toy car and said "I'm leaving, bye!" "Where are you going?" And he replied, dead serious: "The Florida Keys."

After entertaining the idea of going to New York this weekend, we went against our wanderlust instinct a bit and finally decided against it. So our answer to LP's staple question was, for the first time in a long time: nowhere.

We'll stay home, "close up the yard" in preparation for the winter, probably go to the pumpkin patch, cook and bake a bit. Weather permitting, my husband will go on his last long motorcycle ride of the season. We'll stock up on firewood, hopefully stay in bed late, and hopefully fall asleep all snuggled up together watching DVDs. Slowly getting into hibernation mode. And oh, we'll give thanks.

Happy long weekend (if applicable, obviously)! See you on Tuesday.

Bathroom reveal!

The bathroom reno is complete! And I absolutely love it. In the end, it took one month (but we did sneak away on vacation for a week during that time), and we stayed on budget ($2,000), since M was able to return some unused tiles and supplies, which offset the $200 worth of accessories I got. We're still missing some prints or artwork on the walls, something that would complete and personalize the space. We're still looking, but no rush. I think it looks great anyway!

Kudos to my husband, who's worked SO hard on this. It turns out, it's next to impossible to do renos with a two year-old around (for those who wondered), so even though I did participate a bit (and so did LP), the vast majority of hours and effort can be attributed to M.

Next step is the kitchen. No, we haven't started. We're in need of a little break and a little scared at this point. Since it's probably not a good idea to start this in November with the upcoming Holidays, we're thinking about postponing it to early next year (federal tax credits are available until February).

This is what we were beginning with -not terrible, but still an impractical and unfortunate update from the original sixties bathroom, inherited from the previous owners. You think that when she did this she had "Provencal" in mind?







The walls were by far the biggest part of the job. Taking off the tiles without the walls coming with them was really tough, and then the walls still looked REALLY bad... There were many late nights of scraping tile glue off the walls and such. At this stage, which lasted for a good two weeks, I was ready to 1-cry, and 2-move out.





Then plastering, priming, sealing, painting, and tiling again... This was a family affair, as you can see.

Then my father-in-law came over, and that's when I realized that we were going to make it! He helped out with installing the new eco-conscious dual-flush toilet, as well as the new, huge cabinet (which we bought for around $300 at the Home Depot and assembled ourselves). M finally installed the sink, new faucets, and accessories... D-o-n-e!







M had the idea of building the little shelf to host mini-plants (they're palm trees, actually. Not sure how long they will survive in low lighting conditions, but they're pretty tough). I think it adds a great organic touch... The floor is Carrara marble. It was expensive but still doable as we only had a small surface to cover. The only thing we find slightly disappointing is the glass tile mosaic on the back wall. We both thought it would add a much greater punch of color and sparkle. I originally thought the blue would be so present that I went and bought all of the accessories and toiletries in brown, because I felt we would need to tone the blue down! Now I wish it would shine a little more. But I do love the glossy subway tiles...

The photographer is not who you think

A few months ago M got LP a camera, one that's especially for kids, basically made of rubber, unbreakable, waterproof, really easy to work with. I still thought that he was a little young for it, but maybe I was mistaken after all.

Here is what I found when I pored through hundreds and hundreds of worthless pictures... In terms of quality, the camera is bad, so there's no way around that. But even if we couldn't possibly deem any of those good, some are certainly interesting -remember this is the world as seen by a two year-old...

[This is actually one of my skirts... I'm surprised at how by complete chance he got the pattern just right, almost making it like an abstract expressionist painting...]



[Two of his favorite people in the same shot!]

[So this is what the backyard looks to him... A prison.]

[I call this one "Self-Portrait"]

[This revealed to us what his perspective was while he was getting his diaper changed... That little corner of his room was probably the thing he's seen the most for over two years. Only a few months ago, but already a different era]

[Love this one]

The *best* meal of your life

On a couple of occasions we watched this TV show about healthful and simultaneously sinful cooking and food. Each week they have a guest coming in and they ask them to describe the best meal of their life. Excellent question! Every time their eyes lit up, they smile, and you can tell that it’s really as much about the setting, the company, the occasion, etc., as it is about the food. More often than not, this memorable meal also happens during a trip or vacation. We’re no exception.

The best meal of my husband’s life was in Toulouse, France. He remembers being wowed by the presentation as much as by the taste of the food. The entree was amazingly tender and flavorful bavette (steak), but then he went on describing his first course to me in great detail, with almost a little tear in his eye: a salad of bitter lettuces, soft poached duck eggs, and strips of perfectly fried, tasty bacon arranged on top in the shape of an elaborate bow…

I have two such meals in my head, and I couldn’t possibly choose between them. The first one was outside of Mantua, Italy, in a family-style restaurant set in a picture-perfect landscape with rolling hills, willows, and big shrubs of fragrant rosemary… I was totally drunk on the beauty of the place and the moment. The service was really attentive and friendly, and the food was… just exquisite. The first course was handmade squash ravioli, with a simple butter sauce and small wild mushrooms. The pasta was paper-thin and melted in the mouth, while the filling was both light and fragrant. The main course was a whole pigeon with herb stuffing (I remember the earthy notes of shallots and sage), plated with a perfectly textured roasted garlic polenta… I don’t even remember what dessert was (panna cotta?), but I can almost still taste the crema of the syrup-like coffee in my mouth.

The second one was in Ljubljana, Slovenia, which remains one of my favorite places in the world. In a tiny, cool restaurant across the Dragon Bridge and near the castle, in that part of town I can’t really describe other than to say that if vampires existed, they would live there, I had ordered homemade gnocchi, with a simple but delicious cream and cheese sauce. But wait, the best was yet to come. After I had taken a bite, the waiter came over with a grater, holding a golf ball-size black truffle in one hand. You want some?, he asked in good English. And as I expected a few tiny specks to be sprinkled on my plate, he proceeded to grate half of that divine mushroom, yes the one that goes for a thousand dollars a kilo, the one people are almost ready to kill for. Eight years later my mouth still becomes watery at the thought, and my memory still recalls the unbelievable aroma of that supreme delicacy.

In contrast, I would say the best meal M and I had together was humble sandwiches (to tell you the truth they were even a little stale), made in the back of our rented car in Monument Valley, Utah. He handed one to me, and I found myself biting into waxy paper, since in all his excitement he had forgotten to remove the sheet separating the cheese slices. We had a good laugh about it, then right after we went horseback riding in the middle of all of these out-of-this-world rock formations. This was our first trip together, the greatest vacation ever, and among all of the amazing things we did during these two weeks that was the best day of all. I will even say that after the day LP was born, without hesitation this was the greatest day of my life. We were so in love, we still are, you know, but I’m sure you get what I mean, so in “I’m so happy I could touch the sky” puppy love…

[August 2005. Bellies full of sandwiches, hearts full of amazement]

So we are yet to have an amazing food restaurant meal together, although we did have at least a few great ones… That’s the great thing about life: the best meal ever could always be right around the corner, you never have to stop hoping it could happen...

What was the best meal of your life?

My style

Recently the ladies over at Momversation talked about personal style, revealed their own "thing", showed their key pieces, provided tips, etc. Then they asked viewers to share their own fave things and goods. And as I was first reading the responses, I thought, mhh, I'm not sure what "my thing" is...

I like looking good and put together, or rather I can’t help but feel awful when I don’t. I don’t really like flats, but you know, I’m not stupid enough to wear super uncomfortable heels when I know I’ll be walking a lot (although I did once in New York, and I can see M rolling his eyes at me in exasperation right now. Sorry again hon, that was quite dumb). I love wearing dresses most, I’m always looking out for cute, flattering dresses, both for work and for more festive or formal occasions. I like wearing skirts more than I do pants (in part because they’re a little harder to pull off when you’re slightly pear-shaped), but given our winters, I still wear plenty of trousers. During the weekend I mostly wear jeans, but I do tend to dress them slightly more up than down. Oh, I have always had a love affair with tweed.

In terms of accessories, my sister once referred to me as “shoe crazy”, but really that’s only because she has like 3 pairs and I have maybe 12. I do like my shooz, but I don’t think that’s crazy. I mean, LP has about 8 (OK, maybe I’m shoe crazy for him). For the past year, I’ve only been using this one purse, a lady-like, quality Coach one M offered to me. (Yes, my husband buys me fashion items. And he’s good at it! He once got me Gucci sandals, and can sometimes guess my size better than I can. I’m telling you, he’s got the eye). I like jewelry (I just bought little yellow dangling earrings that add just the right punch of color and coolness to about any outfit, and I have a few trendy necklaces on heavy rotation), but never go overboard (no other rings than my engagement/wedding band combo, for instance).

Then I thought: tights! Tights are kind of my “signature” thing. Come this time of year, one of the things that never fail to get me excited about starting to cover up more again is getting pretty and unusual tights. Even when dressed in a simple skirt and shirt, patterned tights will definitely add a level of interest and appeal to an outfit! I don’t really do them in funky colors, I’m a little old for that, but I love texture and such.

I still sometimes wear fishnets (small pattern for work, larger is OK for a party, but you’ll freeze in winter!), and I also have metallic ones in a *subtle* silver sheen. I have gray ones with a tone-on-tone argyle pattern that I really like. I have different black ones that have some kind of intricate “knitting”, or lacy pattern to them… I also love mixing colors just a bit, like wearing a black or purple dress with heather gray opaque tights.

Here are the latest ones I ordered from J.Crew:


OK so the pattern is subtle, but for an "anything-British" lover like me, herringbone tights were definitely the missing piece in my collection!
Never underestimate the slimming effect of vertical stripes! (Pointelle ribbed tights)

I can't resist

Boy, this was definitely the "let's reminisce about our university years" week...

This viral video with overwhelming international response was shot in one take, and took all of two hours to make. They don't say how long the prep/logistics stage took, however. But it must be A LOT LONGER than that.

The kids are 172 students currently majoring in Communications at my alma mater, here in Montreal. So, these walls, halls, escalators and such were exactly where I spent all my days during 4 years, a now whopping decade and a half ago. It wasn't architecturally inspiring (sadly it was built in the 70s, which says it all), but oh my, the atmosphere, the memories! The Comm department was sort of a "twin" one to mine (Literary Studies), actually, and has always been one of the most dynamic/fruitful within this university.

You may or may not like the Black Eye Peas song, and yes, it's kind of glorifying a frat house party atmosphere, but believe me, the feel-good vibes are infectious! Impressive teamwork, creativity, talent, sheer relief that someone has finally found Waldo, and lots of fun local references (after watching it tons of times, I just realized that the bicycle at the very beginning is a Bixi (the city's recent -and praised- public biking system), which you can just rent self-service then leave a couple hours later at a different station, all rolled into one. Well done!

Coming back to the 'hood

Over the summer my office moved locations. We went from a quiet, primarily residential and posh area, to a VERY different one closer to downtown. I already described our really cool, beautifully renovated cookie factory building here.

The thing is, this neighborhood is very familiar to me, since I've lived there from 1998 to the end of 2000, from the end of my undergraduate degree to right when I left for my long European stay. Going back there every day is very, very peculiar, all at once like I've never been there and like I never left. When I first moved in, it was just beginning a big transformation, from a poor, rundown place to one that people with money were rediscovering, because of its proximity to downtown, to the wonderful Atwater Market, to the canal with all its abandoned factories and water views, exactly those who make such a great transition into fantastic lofts and condos. People in the know were saying that it was the next big thing, a hidden gem, and this made me feel so proud and ahead of my time.

Ten years later, both the neighborhood and my perspective have changed (funny how passing by my old apartment every day, as much as I used to like it, makes me realize I'd never live in such a hole again! And I didn't understand then why the BFs of some of my friends didn't like them coming to my place at night, but I kinda do, now). Everything is indeed a little more gentrified, vacant lots have virtually disappeared, and you see people wearing suits, expensive cars, and shops to tend to them. But I'm surprised that it remains a fundamentally mixed neighborhood, and that the negative effect people were fearing (that the original -read, poor, non-condo crowd- inhabitants would be ousted after being priced out) has not really happened. Most of the humble shops are still there, and so are the colorful characters. It's gritty, it refuses to be categorized, it's both naive and blasé, and it makes it all very interesting and even endearing.

Succession of windows on the main commercial artery: sad-looking dollar store, 50s-style greasy spoon dinner complete with big jars of pickles and marinated red peppers as decor, money transfer place, fine wine shop, hair salon that looks as inspiring as a dentist's waiting room, irresistible cupcake shop I patronized for my wedding, antique store, sleazy massage parlor, fancy, pricey pizza place, old key-making place, super hip Thai takeout restaurant, another retro antique store, tired, faded place where they sell work uniforms, really cool and authentic British pub where we always go for happy hour...

Signs: "Bakery. Pastries. The best chicken in town!" "We're the true dreads experts." "Handmade soaps. Just so you know, we keep no cash in premises." "Caribbean drinks. We deliver!"

Sights: humongous crates of overflowing pumpkins at the Market. Panhandlers lining up in front of McDonalds. Elderly people working in a community garden. Group of people from Haitian community standing on porch in front of church, all dressed up to the nines in hats, gloves and colorful, colorful outfits... Teenage lovebirds loudly fighting like it is the end of the world by the metro station, then ostensibly making up.

Smells: it has changed so much... Ten years ago it smelled like tobacco and flour, since two huge plants edged each side of the neighborhood. The tobacco plant has been transformed into condos, and the Robin Hood flour plant is still there, but appears largely inactive. Nowadays it smells mostly like restaurant grease, and perhaps a little mold coming from the old-school shops.

Fashion inspiration: girl in cropped leather jacket, white mini-skirt, mustard yellow tights, and slouchy boots. Other girl with stylish bob in retro navy full skirt, 70s-style workshirt, and exquisite red peep-toe wedges with black polka dots on them... Chic woman with sequined leggings and purple platform shoes, blond pony tail without a hair out of place...