image courtesy dailymail.co.uk

In a new interview, Victoria’s Secret ‘Angel’ Adriana Lima reveals the grueling pre-show diet and fitness regime she and her fellow glamazons adhere to. Since those lingerie catalogues jammed our mailboxes in the early nineties, the Victoria’s Secret brand has sky rocketed to household name success on the premise of celebrating women’s natural sensuality, giving us a new and empowering leash on our own sexuality via lacy pushup bras and cute thongs. I can remember thumbing through page after page of the insanely bodacious Laetitia Casta, wistfully hoping my twiggy preteen frame would one day fill out into similarly Venusian proportions. In the intervening years, Victoria Secret models have become rock stars in the fashion world, some (notably the thinest) regularly grace fashion week runways of the top maisons.

However, in the intervening time between sexy underwear retailer to full-on fashion and beauty phenom, the standard of the models’ figures has also switched from buxom to skeletal. The Angels are modern paradigms of beauty, albeit a conventional low-brow variety. I’ve YouTubed countless Victoria’s Secret model makeup tutorials in effort to emulate their uncanny mix of girl-next-door wholesome health and smoldering sexiness. The fact that these women are hot is not in question, to suggest otherwise would be to admit the basest of catty envy. It would also suggest that I find my own (cough) fluffy physique less appealing.

Reading up on Adriana’s pre-game “health” plan was disturbing. She works out her athletic physique twice a day a month in advance. Her trainer explains that this is akin to a professional athlete – and hey, I’m not going to knock an aggressive exercise routine as I sit typing on my laptop, trainers gathering dust in the dark recesses of my closet. The diet is another matter entirely. Not only does her dietician weigh all food consumed to make sure she doesn’t put on an extra milligram, but she stops consuming all fluids 12 hours prior to show time. That’s just flipping crazy. Usually, models are renowned for chugging bottled water like alcoholics at an open bar. To forgo hydration in favor of peeing out the excess “water weight” (aka what 70% of our bodies are made of) is not healthy. Nor is the hyper-vigillance on maintaining an artificially thin frame.

I do assert that dehydration and weighing of all food intake is not part of a healthy fitness plan – don’t care what you say Candice ‘Skeltor’ Swanepoel – it just ‘aint right ladies! Furthermore it sets the bar ever higher for what is considered attractive, leaving normal (sane) women at a loss and yet still feeling the innate urge to compete. The whole point of lingerie and VS by extension is to (let’s not kid ourselves) highlight sexual attractiveness. Read: REPRODUCTIVE APPEAL. Starvation, physical exhaustion and dehydration are not ideal candidates for promoting health, not to mention fertility. It’s a self defeating game that leaves the young women who idolize the Angels without feasible recourse to emulate the bodies they and the media adore.

It’s time for a reality check, take a quick survey of the men in your life. I guarantee if you can get them to focus for five seconds, they will in fact tell you that they don’t give a rat’s ass about cellulite, they like real curves (not size zero “curvy” models with dangerously sharp collar bones ) and really, lingerie is a pointless roadblock on the trip to freaky town. If the whole schtick that VS is schilling is empowering sexuality for women, feeling good about your God-given bod is a logical first step, mental glamazons be damned. On that note, I had banana cookies and pasta in cream sauce for breakfast — never felt sexier.

The antidote to the “look at how pretty I am” plague? Before You Were Hot

The two co-founders of I Heart Daily joined forces to celebrate nerdom in all its glory.

“Every swan was once an ugly duckling, and this is what BEFORE YOU WERE HOT is about. We’re calling upon our hot peers — that’s you! — to send us your not-so-hot photos from before you blossomed into the Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie clone that you are today. Bonus points for bad perms or headgear. PS-”Hot,” in our terms, is a state of mind. If you feel it, we feel it!”

On the site, you’re invited to post your own “ugly duckling” shots ans an accompanying description.  The result is hilarious and humbling.  A healthy reminder that only major tools are too uptight to laugh at themselves.  My nerdiest moment? It’s a tough call… I think Halloween 95, a gawky preteen Carmen Miranda – who no one in my class had ever heard of – is probably the cherry on top of my geek sundae.   What about yours?

The sharp rectangular styles are admittedly chic and are offered in four scents:

Coquette- a youthful floral

Isle of Kisses (rough translation)- a fruity mango concoction

Adriana- a sweet and spicy oriental

Chocolate – (obviously), a sweet gourmand

Sure the concept is cute and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see more and more status symbols embedded with fragrance popping up in the near future… but one has to wonder about the safety of scent emitting plastics on one’s face!  Right next to the eyes no less.  I’m probably just an alarmist, but I’m sticking with my plain old unscented nerd frames thank you very much!  (Bella Sugar)

Someone (usually a girl) who cannot walk out of the house unless they’re wearing makeup. The makeup must be excessive and very noticeable. Though it doesn’t necessarily have to look like a whore’s style of makeup, it can be anything from clown-looking, to goth, to preppy.

Admittedly, I fall well within the brackets of  that category.  My name is Star, and I’m a Makeup Whore.  I feel uncomfortable without any makeup on in public and my self-consciousness increases depending on the setting.  For example, at my job – although at a fashion magazine, is very casual – I’m wearing a tiny bit of concealer, powder and lip balm and feel mostly at ease.  However, I would never say, go out for drinks with such a scarce amount of cosmetic enhancement.  Truth be told, I don’t  feel like myself without a full face on, and I certainly don’t have the confidence to act like my usual self either.

With carefully applied war-paint, I feel confident, stand up straight, look people in the eye and feel brave enough to share my wacky sense of humor with the unwitting masses.  Barefaced, I retreat behind my over-sized sunglasses and avoid any and all human interaction, save the barrista at the Starbucks drive-through.  My reticence to go au natural isn’t a huge, life-altering problem for me.  I genuinely enjoy the art of makeup and have hoarded enough pots and tubes to last till after the apocalypse.

I do, however, wish that I could feel happy enough in my own skin to face any situation, social or not, just as god made me.  My clutching dependence on makeup makes me feel superficial, petty and vain… not to mention utterly un-feminist – like some cloying relic of Stepford.  And though I’m cozy enough with my (all female) coworkers to reveal pimples, sun damage and dark circles without much reservation when it came time for our annual team photo shoot, I spent a generous 2 hours fussing over my makeup and hair.

Vanity is my vice and I couldn’t even bring myself to take a makeup-free head shot to accompany this post!  When I stumbled across Alexis Wolfer’s post on The Beauty Bean I was both intrigued and horrified by the so-called “Makeup Free Mondays” movement she has initiated.  In the spirit of promoting a better body image to women who are constantly barraged with airbrushed images of stick-figures urging them to shed ten pounds, Wolfer  says, “Self-confidence is more than just showing that your value is not determined by a number on a scale. It is also about showing your Real Beauty, how to healthfully treat your body and how to be comfortable in your own skin.  That’s something I could get behind, in theory.

My hesitation was not alone and Wolfer went on to explain that ” It’s a bit intimidating at first (I’m sure we had the same thoughts you’re having: but I won’t look good, pretty, my best and more…) Well, we got over it, and, once we did, we realized how liberating, inspiring, and, needless to say, time-saving it can be!”

Luckily, you don’t have to take the full plunge to participate.  The Beauty Bean maintains that it’s enough to scale back the routine to say, no blow-drying Mondays, or minimal makeup Mondays.  I’m gonna give it a try, and see if I can’t muster the same confidence I display when primped and preened.  I can’t say that I wont cover up any Vesuvius sized zits with a dab of concealer, but I will from now on devote every Monday to minimal makeup and maximum moxie.  As part of the beauty/fashion industry I certainly don’t want to perpetuate the message that a woman’s worth is tied to her looks.  We women need to send a clear message to the mass-media image powers that be: Beauty is not a consumer product!

Would you go to work without any makeup?
(polls)

A new study, by the Environmental Working Group, found that a whopping %84 of sunscreens on the market are ineffective or unsafe.

Out of 783 FDA approved sunscreen products tested, only 16 were found to effectively block UVA and UVB rays while remaining chemically stable.  The shocking results sent my mind reeling as I wondered how the hell so many sunblocks, from drugstore to upscale specialty retailers, promise upwards of 60 SPF broad spectrum and don’t do jack.  WTF FDA?  It’s no secret that the American byzantine process of approving new skin care products is eons behind its European counterpart.

Bottom line: While those fancy shmancy creative and new formulations might be appealing, don’t judge the sunscreen by its bottle.  To ensure you stay safe this summer, ignore the hype and stick with a Euro Brand (Avene, Bioderma etc.) or one of the following approved by the study:

1. Badger SPF 30

2. Peter Thomas Roth Titanium Dioxide Sunblock (SPF 30)

3. Lavera Sun Screen Neutral SPF 40

4. UV Natural Baby SPF30+ Broad Spectrum Sunscreen

5. Vanicream Sunscreen Sport (formerly Sunscreen SPF 35) (SPF 35)

6. UV Natural SPORT SPF 30& Very Water Resistant (old formulation)

7. California Baby SPF 30+ Sunblock Stick No Fragrance

8. California Baby SPF 30+ Sunblock Stick Everyday/Year-Round

9. Keys Soap Solar RX Sunblock (SPF 30) (old formulation)

10. KINeSYS KIDS Sunscreen Spray with Parsol 1789 (SPF 30+)

11. California Baby SPF 30+ Sunscreen Lotion Everyday/Year-Round

12. California Baby SPF 30+ Sunscreen Lotion Natural Bug Blend

13. California Baby SPF 30+ Sunscreen Lotion No Fragrance

14. Dr. Brandt Body Barrier Gel (SPF 30)

15. Dermalogica Ultra Sensitive FaceBlock (SPF 25)

16. Aubrey Organics Green Tea Sunblock For Children

17. Mustela Moderate Sun Protection Stick (SPF 20)

The Georgian Restaurant at Harrods

Harrods owner, Mohamed Fayed, has sold the landmark emporium for a cool £1.5 billion to Qatari Holdings (i.e. the royal family of Qatar).  Explaining that he wants to spend more time with his children and grandchildren, the larger than life character, Fayed, will no longer storm the aisles twice daily. 

An immigrant magnate that got his start in retail selling oranges in the souks of Alexandria, Egypt managed to build a store/empire that’s as synonymous with the UK as Buckingham’s stoic guards.  His colorful (and sometimes off-color) personality has only added to the colossal legend of the store.  Known for his flock of blonde-clone assistants, being the only man in the 21st century who still rocks a cravat and for his unfortunate vendetta against the Royal family’s alleged “conspiracy” to whack his son, Dodi.

Will Fayed’s morose shrine to Dodi and Princess Diana remain along with the Borocco Tea Room?  Only time can tell how this institution of British luxury will weather the change of ownership.  Harrods has been distinguished not only by its owner’s shrewd business sense, but also the unmatched passion of a self-made man.  I can’t help but worry that something will be lost with the departure of the retailer’s patriarch.

I was lucky enough to visit Harrods, at the age of five, on a family vacation.  My parents took me to high tea at the Georgian Restaurant.  I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, it was utterly luxurious and I can remember thinking that this is what my life had been missing.  As the daughter of a confirmed health zealot, I was only allowed the occasional sweet, but at Harrod’s my travel weary, jet-lagged parents allowed me to gorge on as many cookies and cakes as I pleased.  And I took full advantage.  It was the beginning of my lifelong pursuit of all things fine and I can only hope that it remains unchanged so I can expose my own children to the spectacle that is Harrods some day.

Though the law has been on the books for nearly two centuries, it’s obviously not heavily enforced (otherwise fashion week would be a frenzy of police beat-downs… models being tasered, feathers flying, Lagerfeld biting an officer).  Women won equal legal status to men in France in 1946, thus the no-pants legislation has technically been invalid ever since.  None the less, French MP’s are now calling for the law’s removal.

The Telegraph article points out that ironically the law  ”makes the laissez-faire French capital theoretically more hardline than Islamic states like Sudan in the fashion stakes.”  Well the key word here is theoretically.  Women in the west have fought a long and hard battle against gender discrimination- and we’re still not done. 

Outmoded sans culottes laws may make us giggle nowadays, but I doubt women forced to dress according to male-dominated governmental mandate in countries like Saudi and Sudan find the matter laughable.  It’s a reminder that patriarchal control must still be fought, even today.

Ya Dahling!

 I’ve said before, “fashion is art”, but sometimes, art is stupid.  Like the guy who sculpted a bas-relief of the Virgin Mary using elephant dung, or the very special artiste in Scotland who received an Arts Council grant to put a banana (not a sculpture, a Chiquita) on a gallery’s display pedestal, where lucky witnesses of his “performance art” marveled as… it sat there and rotted.     

 When it comes to the leather shorts trend, seen everywhere from runway to high street, I’m forced to call a spade a spade.  Or a spade of elephant poop, in this case… The first thing this pracitcality-challenged garment brings to mind is that wretched feeling of siting on hot leather car seats in the summer- sweaty thighs stuck to the upholstery the giant band-aid like pain when you get out.  I can’t imagine wearing that around all day, on my own ass no less.     

Then there is the famous “Friends” episode, where Ross’ leather pants shrink due to heavy perspiration, ruining his date and forcing him to return home sans pants and coated in baby powder.  Doesn’t make me want to jump on the leherhosen band wagon either!  Even if one happened to reside in a Scandinavian country, where sweating is hardly an issue unless one is running away from a polar bear,  it’s hard to conceive that the Alpine look would be a. feasible  enough to wear, or b. remotely flattering (especially those lovely pleat-front versions).     

Every season, we never lack a plethora of absurd “hot trends”, but this time around I think something smells fishy, and it isn’t the caviar!  So what could be behind the fashion illuminati’s industry wide backing of ‘lorts‘?     

Answer: Profit with a capital P!     

Sources tell me that the normal markup on women’s retail clothing is about 50%, except for leather goods, whose price can be jacked upwards of 70%.  It’s common knowledge that the garment retail sector has been hit particularly hard by the recession; with consumers spending less on elective purchases.  This may be a sly ploy to drive up lagging profit margins by convincing women that the ‘it’ item of spring/summer 10 is a piece of clothing with the largest spread between cost and profit.       

Coincidence?     

I think not!      

So maybe I’m a paranoid conspiracy theorist, but the fashion industry is a business, at the end of the day, and thus driven by profiting off our foolish urge to be au courant.  Don’t fall for it!  Do yourself, your wallet and your backside’s perceived size a favor,  just say no to lederhosen. 

Alexander Wang: barely covers butt, for the price of $952.

Thakoons' "Denim Effect" frump chic only $1220... or you could get the same unflattering cut at Goodwill in real denim!

Joie Dempsey: Koolats meet S&M can be yours for the low price of $325!

Meow

Question: What is funnier than a bitchy French model having a cat fight with a bitchy French hair stylist, in the middle of an editorial shoot, when both pronounce “hair” as “air”?

Answer: Nothing!

I witnessed this scene unfold before my scandalized eyes this morning at work, a frenzy of wild arm gestures and raised heavily accented voices caught my attention.  Why two French people would choose to argue in English is a mystery… Apparently, our model didn’t want the stylist to tease her hair as she was afraid it would damage her delicate blonde tresses.  The stylist indignantly responded that he was not “teasing” anything, this isn’t 1983 after all!  He was merely trying to “separate ze curls!” The spat reached such intensity that the Fashion Editor was forced to bring down our Editor in Chief to settle things.

The poor model, on the verge of tears told my boss, “But eeel damage my air! It’s my air!” to which the Editor replied, “It’s not up to you, it’s up to me and I say let him style your hair or leave!”  The model implored for follicle mercy, but to no avail.  Now, the stylist was certainly not doing anything which would lead to hair damage, but the girl’s insistence that it is her hair struck me; trying in vain to assert ownership over her own body and in the end submitting to the authority that controls her career.

I wasn’t impressed with Ms. Air’s general attitude from the moment she set her violet suede sneakered foot into our office, but nevertheless, I did feel for the girl.  I can’t imagine a more humble moment than being forced into doing something with my own body that was against my better judgement.  Sure, we all had a hearty laugh about the episode after she’d left, but I would have been vastly more indignant than she, had tables been turned.  Knowing my hot-headed stubbornness, I probably would have shared a few choice words with the Editor and stylist before storming right out the door.

Strange how we expect women who profit from their beauty to relinquish all control over their very selves.  At a fashion magazine, we tell them how to look, what to wear and which way to stand and tilt their head.  It reminds me of that Native American belief (you may remember the controversy over the unauthorized use of a Native American boy’s photo for an Enigma album) that to possess one’s image is to possess their soul.  A quaint sentiment in the eyes of Westerners, and yet there is real truth to it.

Once a person becomes an image, they cease to be a real person.  Instead, we feel free to poke, prod and scrutinize to our hearts’ content, never thinking of how hard it is for the image in question.  Who among us has not cast criticism at Mischa Barton’s cellulite whilst ignoring the dimples on her own backside? We justify the cruel and degrading comments about models and celebrities by saying, “She’s a model, she gets paid to look good!” or “If I had that much money, I would sure as hell look better than that thing!” We seem to miss that by treating women as two-dimensional extensions of their perceived beauty, we are just as guilty of objectifying women as the worst chauvinist.

I’ve said it a thousand times, everything, any image, item or person published, broadcast or filmed is airbrushed from here to next Tuesday! 

Not even two meters from where I’m typing, our Photo Editor is diligently airbrushing “imperfections” on a picture of a brand new Louis Vuitton bag for the May issue.  If a bag that’ll set you back more than I make in a year needs to be digitally enhanced, you can bet your Louboutins a living breathing person needs some serious Photoshop therapy!

Aren’t you tired of celebrities, many er… cough… on the middle of the age spectrum indignantly claim that their obviously tampered with magazine shoots have not been altered?  (You aren’t fooling anyone sister… Looking at you Demi Moore!)  Even if a celeb didn’t want the cellulite airbrushed off her derriere, those images become the legal property of the publication, advertising company etc. immediately after they’re shot. 

Any alterations made are usually at the magazines’ sole discretion.  And let’s not beat around the bush, the celebs want the photoshoping, how else could they compete with other starlets if they opted not to hide their “flaws”?  Trust me, no one is suing W Magazine for making them look too good!

In a thoroughly refreshing move, Britney Spears released the before and after pics of her Candie’s shoot for Kohls:  A ballsy and benevolent act meant to show women that the “perfect” icons, they struggle in vain, to emulate are just as normal and dimply as the rest of ass us.  I (never thought I’d say this) applaud Spears for her candid display.  If our sense of what an attractive woman looks like wasn’t been so warped by tweaked images, everyone would think the picture on the left looks great!