Beauty Icon Wednesday: For My Mother

Name: Eleada Anne (Britton) Thomson, born October 7th 1931

passed suddenly November 5th, 2011

Known for: being a consummate teacher, mother to everyone, and in possession the biggest heart of anyone this world has ever known.

Girls have always seemed to have an interesting relationship with their mothers. When you're just a little girl, your mother is the one person you can always count on. She's always there for you, the main female role model you have. Later on, in those awkward teen-aged years, you start to think of her as annoying, embarassing, old-fashioned, 'uncool'. And you spend as much time trying to distance yourself from her as you had previously done emulating her.

It's not until you get much older, usually after you've had kids of your own, that you start to appreciate your mother again, to respect her for everything she's done in making you who and what you are. You become friends again, even closer than before. What's sad about this is all the time that was wasted while you were busy convincing yourself that she was the enemy determined to ruin your social life and cool factor between the ages fourteen to twenty. Because despite what you may have believed when you were four, your mother is not an invincible superhero who will live forever...anymore than she was your arch nemesis.

I lost my mother this weekend. She had just turned eighty last month, and the only thing she wanted for her birthday was for the whole family to be together. Between my sister and her partner, and my brother's son, all of us are spread over hundreds of kilometers, but we picked a spot somewhere in the middle. And took some family pictures, since the last time we had been together like that was for my parent's fiftieth wedding anniversary. Eight years ago. Yeah...who stays married for 58 years anymore?!

Despite the three and a half hour driving distance, we were able to compromise by meeting in the middle and so I've seen my mother and father more in the past couple of years than I had previously. This was out of necessity, since they had both taken turns scaring the hell out of their three children with a variety of heart attacks, strokes, and other various ailments. As much as she enjoyed spending time with me, her youngest daughter, I realize that I was just as much a vessel for her to see her grandson. One of her biggest regrets was that she wasn't able to spend as much time with him as her first grandson who'd been born about twenty years ago, when she was much less frail and lived far closer than the massive field just south of Owen Sound they had since retired to. Believe me, it's been one of mine too.

I got the call late last Friday night that she had been rushed to hospital, and that it 'didn't look good'. In the morning, my sister called to say that her condition had worsened and she had been air-lifted to another hospital, and that she was flying into Pearson so we could meet and drive down together. Although worried as we drove the two and a half hours to the hospital, my sister and I had been done this road before. And my mother had pulled through. But that was a few years ago, and she was much stronger then. The past few months we'd seen her get smaller and smaller. And as soon as we walked into the ICU and saw her lying slumped on the bed hooked up to a ventilator, we knew that this time was different. The doctors told us that she had zero brain activity due to a massive stroke she'd had the night before, and that a surgical attempt would be futile as so much damage had been done to the brain tissue. The only thing keeping her alive was that machine she was hooked up to, and as a family we had a difficult decision to make. Except that what the doctors didn't know was that it wasn't really up to us, that the decision had already been made long ago, by my mother herself. She had always been adamant that she was not to be kept alive by a machine because, according to her, that wasn't living. And so, it was done.

My mother breathed on her own for almost two hours. Then, at around 9:20pm on Saturday, she took her last breath while I held one hand and my father the other. And she was gone.

Next came the whirlwind of preparations - making phone calls, cancelling appointments, coordinating funeral homes in two different counties, planning a funeral service that would be worthy of such a wonderful woman who had been loved by so many. It was almost enough that you were too busy to cry. But cry I did. I still do.

We buried her today, in the cemetery of the church she'd gone to for a good portion of her life. The reverend there said it best when he commented that it was almost like she was coming home. The church was packed, standing room only. And surprisingly, after already spent two days of visitations in a 'Pam-induced haze, I made it through the service pharmaceutical-free and with far fewer tears. Until the casket was closed, and she was being lowered into the ground. That's where I admit I'm still struggling.

I expect I'll be struggling for quite some time.

Goodbye, Mommy. As much as I will miss you, at least I know that you aren't in any pain anymore. With any luck, as your grandson says, you're up there with Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley.

Beauty Icon Wednesday: Are you a Ginger or a Mary Ann?

Names: Mary Ann Summers (above, left) and Ginger Grant (right, obviously)

Known for: All-American girl-next-door and sultry sex kitten starlet, respectively. Both known for not having much like when it comes to three hour boat cruises 

And the love affair with the Sixties continues with one of the decades most iconic television series, Gilligan's Island. Most of my after-school memories are made up from reruns of this, Happy Days, and Scooby Doo cartoons. The other two programs I will get to in due time, because Pinky Tuscadero and Daphne Blake are each deserving of an Icon Wednesday post of their own, but that's neither here nor there. 

Today's is dedicated to that age-old debate: Ginger or Mary Ann? 

I think if you're a regular reader of this blog, you would know my answer to this question. It's modern day equivalent would be Team Aniston or Team Jolie - I think it's fairly clear whose side I'm on in that particular debate. I've never been fond of the saccharin-sweet, wholesome as Mom's apple pie demeanor that 

Mary Ann embodied, even at a young age. I have always preferred the ice queen, man-eater types; they often had the best clothes. And Ginger, swanning around the island in her fur stoles, sequined gowns and kitten heels with her elaborately coiffed hair and flawless makeup, was my hero. Well, it was a more of a cross between her and Miss Piggy...but then again, that is another post entirely. 

What about you? 

Which one would you be, if you had to make the choice?

Beauty Icon Wednesday: The World's First Supermodel

Name: Jean Rosemary Shrimpton, born November 7th, 1942

Known for: being 'The Face of The Sixties', helping launch the mini-skirt, and for bringing Audrey Hepburn's gamine legacy to the Swinging London scene.


There are times, and I'm sure a few of you would be inclined to agree with me, that it feels as though I were born in the wrong era. I don't worship at the altar of the Kardashians or Jersey Shore. I prefer the more refined, almost classic beauties of days gone past. Some may look at this and think it's too dated or old-fashioned but for me, this is what timeless beauty looks like. And when it comes to iconic faces, this is definitely one that tops the list.

But I won't type a novel - so unlike me, I know. I'd rather leave it to these pictures, and more specifically this face, to say everything that needs saying.

Beauty Icon Wednesday: Veronica, The Bad Girl of Riverdale

Name: Veronica Lodge, created April 1942 by Bob Montana for the Archie comic series

Known for: glossy black hair, legs up to her neck, and an inexplicable affection for a freckle-faced ginger named Archie

I'm not gonna lie - this week has not been the best, and as early as this afternoon I was still at a loss as to who to feature for today's Icon. But inspiration can hit at anytime and often where you least expect it, and thanks to a certain idea planted by a simple Tweet from Chick Advisor I found my girl.

I've never been a fan of the goody-two-shoes, girl next door. So far as I'm concerned, evil knows how to dress and therefore automatically wins in my opinion. In the decades-old chick fight between the annoyingly perky, saccharin-sweet Betty and glamorous Veronica, there was no question; it was Team Ronnie all the way. She was beautiful, snobby, an unapologetic shopaholic, always got her way and had absolutely zero interest in such menial tasks as cooking or cleaning - that's what servants (or men) were for. She represented everything my younger self aspired to be when I grew up.

If I'm being honest, I still do.

Incidentally, in case you're curious, I'm also one of those Angie over Aniston-types. Now that I'm thinking about it, one can draw quite a few parallels between the two. Am I right?

Beauty Icon Wednesday: Portrait of A Lady...?

Name: Wallis Spencer the Duchess of Windsor, born Bessie Wallis Warfield June 19th, 1896; died April 24th, 1986

From Madonna's new film, W.E.

Wallis Simpson and her former King

Known for: most recently, the real-life inspiration for Madonna's film contribution to this year's Toronto International Film Festival (she not only directed but also wrote the screenplay); but mainly for being that American woman - twice-divorced - that somehow managed to steal the heart of the King of England.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I am a total Anglophile, as well as an avid fan of the Royal Family from a very young age. When I was seven I got up at 5:30 in the morning, as most people did, to watch Diana walk her 40-foot dress train down the aisle to marry her Prince. But I’m not sure that most people had named their goldfish after the new Royal couple, which was one of my main reasons for watching. It was a fairytale at the time, but one that did not have a happy ending for couple or goldfish. 

But, as usual, I have strayed far from my original point.

I can remember first hearing about Wallis Simpson from a book whose name has long been forgotten. Some fluffy teen novel from the Eighties whose main character was some shy mouse of a girl named for this woman whose powers of seduction were so great as to have caused a King to abandon his throne. Naturally, my preteen self was completely enthralled.

From all accounts, Wallis Simpson was not what one might consider a great beauty. The pictures here seem to attest to that. However, what she may have lacked in 'beauty' she more than made up for in charisma, charm and presence. Personally, I'm a big fan of any woman who can sweep in and make a man worship at her feet. That goes double if that man happens to be royalty. But it would seem that this epic romance was also without its happily ever after - after his royal abdication, Edward married his beloved Wallis without any members of his family to support him, and the couple were treated as social pariahs for much of their lives together. 

Still, you have to admire Wallis for her sheer ambition and ability to claw her way from obscurity to one of history's most infamous women. 

If you're just as intrigued by her story as I am, you might want to check out this little article from our friends over at the BBC.

Beauty Icon Wednesday:The One & Only, Coco

Name: Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel, August 19th 1883 - January 10th, 1971

Otherwise known as 'Coco'

Known for: how about everything we recognize as modern fashion today? Yeah, that should pretty much cover it.

I swear I thought I’d already posted this. As in to the point of searching frantically through the Icon post history to check. I must have just dreamed it. 

Oh well, it was really only a matter of time before my memory went. 

Anyway, without further ado, let's get on with it, shall we?

Although sadly not all of us can afford the luxury of owning a Chanel suit, what we must remember is that Mme Chanel has touched each of us in a number of much more subtle ways. Without her, we might not have the now iconic Little Black Dress. Or the trouser. Or the jersey dress. Opera length pearls worn with a simple shift dress would not be the epitome of chic. I could go on and on about how Chanel forever changed the face of fashion but I think you get the idea…

There are some arguments that she was not the original, that she used men of wealth and position to get where she was. Perhaps there is some truth in that. However when you consider that she started life as an abandoned orphan, started out making clothing from material that no one had ever considered before and paid back every cent of any money she ever borrowed from one of her male lovers, I’m willing to look past that. And if she did indeed use men to her advantage, well then, I’m okay with that too. It’s not like men haven’t been doing the same – not for money, perhaps, but a variety of other things like sex, status, revenge – for centuries.

Instead, I would much prefer to focus on her achievements and contribution to fashion and beauty. And how I can get my hands on a vintage Chanel suit. 

Beauty Icon Wednesday: Model Moments, Then & Now

Name: Karen Elson, born January 14th. 1979


Known for: Red hair, strong bone structure, marrying an equally pale rock star (Jack White)

Name: Mikhaila 'Coco' Rocha, born September 10th, 1988


Known for: Pale skin, high cheekbones, dancing an Irish jig down a Jean Paul Gaultier's runway.




Smart models – which is not an oxymoron by the way - know that they can only trade on their genetically blessed features for so long before losing out to something younger, newer, fresher. But the ‘Slashie’, as in model-slash-actor, has been done to death, so what’s a poor model to do? Well, here's how two of the industry's most successful commodities are coping with this Brave New multi-tasking World.

Karen Elson was my favourite model in the 90s. Coming out hot on the heels of the over-the-top 80's Supermodel, on the tail end of the Heroin Chic that Kate Moss embodied earlier in the decade, she emerged like an alien flower. With her orange-red hair and bleached out eyebrows, she was as freakish as she was beautiful. Karen's look was a refreshing change from what can so often become a revolving door of cookie cutter beauties. But even then, she was smart enough to know that her look would only last so long, and she evolved into an ethereal vintage fairy princess. Fourteen years after her first Steven Miesel-shot Italian Vogue cover, Karen is still modelling but, like any clever businesswoman, she has diversified. She's an accomplished musician, having released her first album last year, and is now launching a vintage-inspired collection of accessories for shoe retailer Nine West.  


Coco Rocha is my favourite of the new breed of model. Not going to lie - it doesn't hurt that she's also a Canadian. But it really wasn't until her flame-tressed campaign for H&M in the fall of 2009 that I truly fell under her spell. Her opposition to the anorexic industry standard and her recent agreement with Canadian retailer Jacob to star in an untouched ad campaign have only made me heart her more. But Coco is not just another pretty face on ridiculously long legs with fabulous hair - like Elson before her, she has also expanded upon her brand. But where Karen turned to the past for inspiration, Coco has fully embraced the future. In addition to her website, Coco also has a Facebook page, a Tumblr account and is very active on Twitter, where she interacts with her followers on a daily basis - just as every good brand should. 

I'm not too proud to say that yes, I follow Coco on Twitter. But I follow a lot of people. It is with some small amount of shame that I admit that as soon as I'm done with this post, I'll be looking to see if Karen Elson is on Twitter as well.  

Out of curiosity, you understand. 

Beauty Icon Wednesday: Who's That (Birthday) Girl?

Name: Madonna Louise Ciccone, born August 16th, 1958

Known for: blonde hair and dark eyebrows, underwear into outerwear and singlehandedly transforming your Nonna's lace doilies and  crucifixes into iconic moments in fashion.






I would be remiss in my Beauty Icon Wednesday duties if I neglected to honour Madonna in this, the week of her birth. I'm fairly certain there are those out there celebrating it as if it were the Holy Week. And why not? Madge deserves it. The woman is fifty three, a trend-maker and taboo-breaker with thirty years of music under her Dolce & Gabbana belt. And while I'm well-aware that it is largely the work of Photoshop and soft focus lensing, you've gotta admit that she looks better than some women half her age.

So with that, I wish you a very happy birthday, Madonna. And I can only hope that I can look as good when I'm your age.