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Sunday, April 15, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Portrait of A Lady
There are better ways I can think of to spend a weekend than sorting through my mother's belongings trying to decide what to give away, what to keep and who would get what. But it had to be done, and I couldn't leave my sister to do it alone. Nor could I bear the thought of my father having to do it.
Two solid days of bending and folding, laughing and crying. We fondly remembered when she wore certain things and wondered about some of the other much more random items we found like a collection of frilly cocktail aprons (which of course came home with me). I quickly discovered that my hoarding instinct - particularly with regard to carrier bags and scraps of paper - is a hereditary condition. My sister, who is adopted, argues that it's more of a nurture vs nature issue. We found clothing or jewellery that were representative of almost every decade of her life. All eight of them.
In its own odd way, it was better than Christmas. My sister said it best when she remarked that she felt like Mom was 'there' more this past weekend than she was over the holidays.
I won't type much more, because in this case it's true what they say: a picture is worth a thousand words.
I will never wear the Chantilly, but I took it for two reasons: because for as long as I can remember this powder container sat on my mother's dresser, and it smells like her.
In the end, we packed up a lifetime of belongings into five large plastic bags to be donated to the local Salvation Army. Fitting for a woman who spent much of her life helping others in one way or another. There are still a few things to go through, more jewellery and some of her dresses, but we couldn't do it anymore.
And that's fine. Perhaps it's better that way.
Two solid days of bending and folding, laughing and crying. We fondly remembered when she wore certain things and wondered about some of the other much more random items we found like a collection of frilly cocktail aprons (which of course came home with me). I quickly discovered that my hoarding instinct - particularly with regard to carrier bags and scraps of paper - is a hereditary condition. My sister, who is adopted, argues that it's more of a nurture vs nature issue. We found clothing or jewellery that were representative of almost every decade of her life. All eight of them.
In its own odd way, it was better than Christmas. My sister said it best when she remarked that she felt like Mom was 'there' more this past weekend than she was over the holidays.
I won't type much more, because in this case it's true what they say: a picture is worth a thousand words.
I will never wear the Chantilly, but I took it for two reasons: because for as long as I can remember this powder container sat on my mother's dresser, and it smells like her.
In the end, we packed up a lifetime of belongings into five large plastic bags to be donated to the local Salvation Army. Fitting for a woman who spent much of her life helping others in one way or another. There are still a few things to go through, more jewellery and some of her dresses, but we couldn't do it anymore.
And that's fine. Perhaps it's better that way.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Mutton Dressed as Lamb: The Musings of a Birthday Girl
Such an awful phrase, considering that certain ages are no longer represent what they once did when our parents were young, and yet at times it just seems it's so fitting. And seeing as my birthday has just passed (yesterday), it's a topic that's kind of on my mind. Especially as I creep ever closer to that dreaded 4-0.
You can find examples of it all over the city, at least I can: mature women who are either raiding their teenaged daughters' closet when they clearly should not be, or still desperately clinging to the same look they had a decade or two ago as an attempt to relive those glory days. This is by no means of condemnation - I myself often look in the mirror and wonder 'am I too old to pull this off?'. Fortunately I happen to be blessed with good genes (oily skin in your youth can be a good thing, as it turns out) that makes me look younger than I am, and a particularly vocal nine year old who will be the first to question what's going on with my makeup or clothing. Because he's far more critical and conservative than I am, there are some instances when I'll dismiss him as a Puritan.
But most of the time, much as I'm loathe to admit it, he's spot-on.
If you aren't as 'lucky' to have something similar in your life, there are ways that you can do your own self evaluation. A word of warning: it involves complete honesty, bright light and a hand held mirror, preferably with a magnification side.
1. Take a good, hard look at yourself in natural light: This isn't an easy thing to do, believe me. But every now and then it must be done. It's the only way you can determine if your foundation is still the right shade and texture for your face. If it's patchy and powdery spots, that's an indicator that you need something with more moisture. That's an easy fix - simply blend equal parts moisturizer and liquid foundation in your hand before applying to your face. This will also thin out the texture of the foundation, which can cause other issues as one's skin ages. You don't want to look like you're wearing a mask. Foundation that is slightly sheer is less likely to cling to fine lines that can form around the nose and lips, and on the forehead. It's also easier to blend if it so happens that it's a bit too dark for your skin in the winter months - a quick check of the jawline will give you the answer. If your face is a different colour than your neck, it's not the one.
2. Focus on the eyes: It's still amazing to me how quickly you can take years off a face that's wearing too much dark, heavy eye makeup and replace it with more flattering matte tones. A common trap that most of us fall into is doing the same thing makeup-wise day after day - partly out of habit, partly because you aren't really sure what else to do. For some, that trap can stretch on for decades. In effort to avoid such a fate, I encourage all of you to take an hour to yourself and just dig through your makeup case. Pull out those colours you never thought you'd use and just give 'em a shot. You never know, right? For best results, invite a friend or two over so that you can have a second opinion. Perspective is key. So too is a matte texture on an eye that's starting to show signs of aging; a product that has too much shimmer will cling to even the finest of lines, and make them all the more noticeable. And I'll go out on a limb and guess that is not the look you're going for.
3. Lip Service: A general rule of thumb when it comes to makeup is the lighter the lipstick, the more youthful the look. Darker lipstick can often lend a pallor to the skin if it's the wrong shade for your skin, while bright lipstick can just scream that you're trying too hard. That last one is an offence of which I'm most guilty of, but I've decided to say screw the rules - my lipstick is my signature. But I am conscious of the need to switch it up from season to season. Feel free to do the same. And by the same token, you may want to give that pink nude shade you got as a gift with purchase and promptly tossed to the back of the vanity drawer a shot. You never know, it could be a new favourite waiting to happen. Just be careful of going too light on the lips - you don't want them to disappear entirely, nor would you want to look like you're single-handedly trying to bring back the Swinging Sixties.
Most women I know have a few random unused makeup items kicking around, either through a promotion or an impulse buy, that they've never used. Why not take a chance and try something new, or better yet - gather a few of your friends with the same problems and surplus cosmetics for a New Year's makeup party? After all, this is a season of self reflection and goal-setting for the year, so why not extend those same principles to your makeup?
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| 2012 |
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| 2007 |
Thursday, January 12, 2012
2012 Update, and An Apology of Sorts
Hi kittens.
I'm sure by now you've figured out that I am not very consistent with my blogging, and hopefully that's okay with you. But if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, both of which are intrinsically linked, then you may also have noticed something else that might not be quite so okay: the lack of attention being paid to apotheKerri beauty. There's a fairly simple explanation for that.
I believe the technical term for it would be a nervous breakdown.
It was coming, has been for quite some time truth be told, but the sudden death of my mother in November kind of hurried the whole process along. I tried to appear as normal as possible for the sake of my son, my partner, my job while on the inside I was slowly deteriorating. Pretending everything is business as usual when inside I really just want to curl up in bed with the covers over my head and never leave is hard work. Soon enough, the cracks started to show, despite the large amount of medication I was taking. Getting caught crying or throwing up in the washroom at home was becoming more and more frequent, likely because I was doing it daily. At least I had sense enough to seek help early on, in the form of my doctor and the social worker at the health clinic I'm registered with, who in the end recommended a leave of absence to deal with my demons. Better that than be let go from my job altogether, something which I'm fairly certain could have happened had I not taken this route. Fortunately, I work for a pretty decent organization, one who could plainly see that I was struggling and agreed that a leave would be best for everyone.
At first, I was relieved at the prospect. I would be able to get back on track emotionally and mentally, maybe even have some time to work on and grow my beauty business - something I had neither the time nor mental energy to do what with the work and the pretending. I started making all these plans of what I would do with this chunk of time I would have after Christmas. It helped me to avoid thinking about the holiday my mother had enjoyed so much, spending so much time preparing for it by baking and decorating the house until her deteriorating health made that almost impossible. But even to the end, although perhaps not able to decorate as fully as she once had, Mom would always still bake up a storm. She baked for an army the same day she had that massive stroke that ultimately took her from us.
And then, all of a sudden, Christmas was upon me.
I didn't want to go to my parent's house for Christmas. It was the last thing I wanted to do just as I was starting to feel better, seeing as it would be the first time since my mother's death. But I knew that it was the right thing to do, for the sake of my father if nothing else, so up we went. And when we got there, everything was fine. The kid opened some more presents, we had dinner as a family then watched a movie. It all felt just as it should for a Christmas Day. Except for the gaping hole where my mother should have been. I think that's what I found most troubling: that on that of all days, I was certain that I'd be able to feel her there. And no, that's not the meds talking. I don't mean it in a Sixth Sense sort of way, but I was expecting some sense of her to be there with the family. But I felt nothing. And It upset me. I think it still does, because I really haven't been the same since. Any feeling of the hope I'd had before, all the plans I'd had to use the time productively for my business, was gone. Once again, I found myself struggling to get out of bed and throwing up had again become a regular occurrence. I was right back to where I was before the holidays. With one major exception: I baked.
It started before my mother's death as something I would do now and then, mostly for its shock value - I'm known among my friends for the firm belief that things like cooking and cleaning were 'mens work'. But after Mom passed away, the baking took on an entirely different tone. It was almost therapeutic in a way because it forced me to focus on nothing else but the ingredients; it also felt like a way for me to honour her memory. But after Christmas, baking began to be more of a compulsion. Let me give you an example.
In the past two weeks, I have made:
I'm sure by now you've figured out that I am not very consistent with my blogging, and hopefully that's okay with you. But if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, both of which are intrinsically linked, then you may also have noticed something else that might not be quite so okay: the lack of attention being paid to apotheKerri beauty. There's a fairly simple explanation for that.
I believe the technical term for it would be a nervous breakdown.
It was coming, has been for quite some time truth be told, but the sudden death of my mother in November kind of hurried the whole process along. I tried to appear as normal as possible for the sake of my son, my partner, my job while on the inside I was slowly deteriorating. Pretending everything is business as usual when inside I really just want to curl up in bed with the covers over my head and never leave is hard work. Soon enough, the cracks started to show, despite the large amount of medication I was taking. Getting caught crying or throwing up in the washroom at home was becoming more and more frequent, likely because I was doing it daily. At least I had sense enough to seek help early on, in the form of my doctor and the social worker at the health clinic I'm registered with, who in the end recommended a leave of absence to deal with my demons. Better that than be let go from my job altogether, something which I'm fairly certain could have happened had I not taken this route. Fortunately, I work for a pretty decent organization, one who could plainly see that I was struggling and agreed that a leave would be best for everyone.
At first, I was relieved at the prospect. I would be able to get back on track emotionally and mentally, maybe even have some time to work on and grow my beauty business - something I had neither the time nor mental energy to do what with the work and the pretending. I started making all these plans of what I would do with this chunk of time I would have after Christmas. It helped me to avoid thinking about the holiday my mother had enjoyed so much, spending so much time preparing for it by baking and decorating the house until her deteriorating health made that almost impossible. But even to the end, although perhaps not able to decorate as fully as she once had, Mom would always still bake up a storm. She baked for an army the same day she had that massive stroke that ultimately took her from us.
And then, all of a sudden, Christmas was upon me.
I didn't want to go to my parent's house for Christmas. It was the last thing I wanted to do just as I was starting to feel better, seeing as it would be the first time since my mother's death. But I knew that it was the right thing to do, for the sake of my father if nothing else, so up we went. And when we got there, everything was fine. The kid opened some more presents, we had dinner as a family then watched a movie. It all felt just as it should for a Christmas Day. Except for the gaping hole where my mother should have been. I think that's what I found most troubling: that on that of all days, I was certain that I'd be able to feel her there. And no, that's not the meds talking. I don't mean it in a Sixth Sense sort of way, but I was expecting some sense of her to be there with the family. But I felt nothing. And It upset me. I think it still does, because I really haven't been the same since. Any feeling of the hope I'd had before, all the plans I'd had to use the time productively for my business, was gone. Once again, I found myself struggling to get out of bed and throwing up had again become a regular occurrence. I was right back to where I was before the holidays. With one major exception: I baked.
It started before my mother's death as something I would do now and then, mostly for its shock value - I'm known among my friends for the firm belief that things like cooking and cleaning were 'mens work'. But after Mom passed away, the baking took on an entirely different tone. It was almost therapeutic in a way because it forced me to focus on nothing else but the ingredients; it also felt like a way for me to honour her memory. But after Christmas, baking began to be more of a compulsion. Let me give you an example.
In the past two weeks, I have made:
- red velvet cupcakes with sour cream icing
- red velvet cake, with the same icing
- white bread (twice)
- oatmeal bread
- fondant, from scratch, which I used to make
- dark chocolate violet creams
As you can imagine, there is no shortage of sweets in my fridge. In fact, I'm kind of running out of places to put stuff. And there is some chocolate experimenting in there, which is something I've always longed to do but never thought I could do it. Turns out, despite how horrifically shaped some of the earlier attempts might be, I'm rather good at it. I began to even entertain the notion that I should stop pursuing this silly idea that I can break into the already-saturated cosmetics market before wasting any more of my precious time and money, and I should look into going back to school and do something with this newfound baking or chocolate talent I've discovered. I even sent my resume out to a local baker looking for help.
But then I realized: That's not who I am.
If you're still with me thus far, desperate for me to shut up and make my point already, here it is: I lost my way a little bit, and myself in the process. Somewhere between the throes of unresolved grief and depression and the comfort I found in baking, I convinced myself that I should just abandon my dreams now before I get too invested in it. The old mantra of 'you won't win, so why bother trying?' reared its ugly and oh-so-familiar head, repeating itself in mine over and over again. But I can't let it do that this time. I can't let it win. Makeup is a large part of who I am, and while I am flirting with the baking, that is ultimately the world in which I belong. And so, this is me trying to get back on track.
So to my supporters, I'm truly sorry that I got lost there for awhile. I hope that you'll be able to forgive me, even after this rather long-winded post that may or may not contain way more information than you needed. But I needed to write it, if the tears running down my face are any indication, just as much as you deserve to know where things stand. Speaking of which, where do they stand?
Well, first off, I've not forgotten about the results of Holiday Collective questionnaire or the special offer that applies to those who filled it out. I hope to have pictures and a snappy title for the collection that came out of it before the weekend's done.
I also hope to have a new website, www.akbeauty.ca, which will have an online shopping feature.
The new Winter schedule is up for the BlushPretty makeup workshops which will hopefully book up quick so that I can have the pleasure of teaching again. There's also been rumours of a possible Valentine's Day-related collaboration with some other BlushPretty peeps...more info on that when I have it.
And finally, I'm proud to say that not only have I been able to keep up with my Glamanomics posts for She's So Savvy, I was also invited to do my first guest post for Style Empire that came out earlier this week and featured my favourite subject: Red Lipstick. You can read it here in case you missed it. I have also been contacted by an outside vendor, and as a result Glamanomics will be hosting its first-ever giveaway.
So stay tuned for details - there's apparently a lot coming your way. If you're still with me, that is. If so, then thank you for sticking around and believing in me, even though I didn't have it in me to believe in myself.
As for the baking and candy-making? I think I'll keep doing it as long as it helps relax me. And really, I see no better combination on Heaven or Earth than beauty and sweets, so maybe there's a merging of the two in the future. For now, I will leave you with this image: a montage of the three aprons I got for Christmas, each one adorable in its own right and perhaps a contributing factor in my Bake-a-palooza.
Yours most sincerely, and thank you again.
Kerri
- chili-chocolate truffles
- red velvet cake pops with the leftover cake and icing
- rose creams (with that last remaining bit of fondant)
- lemon-white chocolate truffles topped with chopped pistachios
- oatmeal chocolate chip cookies
- whole wheat molasses raisin bread
- oatmeal-whole wheat raisin bread
- brandy bread and butter pudding, with the leftover oatmeal raisin bread
As you can imagine, there is no shortage of sweets in my fridge. In fact, I'm kind of running out of places to put stuff. And there is some chocolate experimenting in there, which is something I've always longed to do but never thought I could do it. Turns out, despite how horrifically shaped some of the earlier attempts might be, I'm rather good at it. I began to even entertain the notion that I should stop pursuing this silly idea that I can break into the already-saturated cosmetics market before wasting any more of my precious time and money, and I should look into going back to school and do something with this newfound baking or chocolate talent I've discovered. I even sent my resume out to a local baker looking for help.
But then I realized: That's not who I am.
If you're still with me thus far, desperate for me to shut up and make my point already, here it is: I lost my way a little bit, and myself in the process. Somewhere between the throes of unresolved grief and depression and the comfort I found in baking, I convinced myself that I should just abandon my dreams now before I get too invested in it. The old mantra of 'you won't win, so why bother trying?' reared its ugly and oh-so-familiar head, repeating itself in mine over and over again. But I can't let it do that this time. I can't let it win. Makeup is a large part of who I am, and while I am flirting with the baking, that is ultimately the world in which I belong. And so, this is me trying to get back on track.
So to my supporters, I'm truly sorry that I got lost there for awhile. I hope that you'll be able to forgive me, even after this rather long-winded post that may or may not contain way more information than you needed. But I needed to write it, if the tears running down my face are any indication, just as much as you deserve to know where things stand. Speaking of which, where do they stand?
Well, first off, I've not forgotten about the results of Holiday Collective questionnaire or the special offer that applies to those who filled it out. I hope to have pictures and a snappy title for the collection that came out of it before the weekend's done.
I also hope to have a new website, www.akbeauty.ca, which will have an online shopping feature.
The new Winter schedule is up for the BlushPretty makeup workshops which will hopefully book up quick so that I can have the pleasure of teaching again. There's also been rumours of a possible Valentine's Day-related collaboration with some other BlushPretty peeps...more info on that when I have it.
And finally, I'm proud to say that not only have I been able to keep up with my Glamanomics posts for She's So Savvy, I was also invited to do my first guest post for Style Empire that came out earlier this week and featured my favourite subject: Red Lipstick. You can read it here in case you missed it. I have also been contacted by an outside vendor, and as a result Glamanomics will be hosting its first-ever giveaway.
So stay tuned for details - there's apparently a lot coming your way. If you're still with me, that is. If so, then thank you for sticking around and believing in me, even though I didn't have it in me to believe in myself.
As for the baking and candy-making? I think I'll keep doing it as long as it helps relax me. And really, I see no better combination on Heaven or Earth than beauty and sweets, so maybe there's a merging of the two in the future. For now, I will leave you with this image: a montage of the three aprons I got for Christmas, each one adorable in its own right and perhaps a contributing factor in my Bake-a-palooza.
Yours most sincerely, and thank you again.
Kerri
Saturday, December 3, 2011
On with The Show, As They Say...
I apologize for being so remiss with my blog posts of late, but given the subject of my last post as well as my weekly Glamanomics contribution over at She's So Savvy and all the plans in the works for the future of apotheKerri beauty, I do hope that you'll forgive me. Will it help if I tell you that one of my resolutions for 2012 is to be a more attentive blogger?
When I say there are plans, it's not a convenient excuse. And while it's not something I can openly talk about just yet, but once I am able to you will be the first to know. But there is one thing that I can talk about...
If you live in the TO and are looking for something to do on a Friday night, why not come out and join us? There will be a prize draw, as well as food to eat and makeup to play with - first you have to fill out this questionnaire which will be entered to be drawn at random. The winner will receive a selection of the items that they've chosen. What could be simpler than that? And as if that's not enough to entice you, here's a sample of one of the limited edition gift sets available for purchase exclusively that evening.
You can RSVP on our Facebook page.
As for the other developments, as they also say - good things come to those who wait.
When I say there are plans, it's not a convenient excuse. And while it's not something I can openly talk about just yet, but once I am able to you will be the first to know. But there is one thing that I can talk about...
If you live in the TO and are looking for something to do on a Friday night, why not come out and join us? There will be a prize draw, as well as food to eat and makeup to play with - first you have to fill out this questionnaire which will be entered to be drawn at random. The winner will receive a selection of the items that they've chosen. What could be simpler than that? And as if that's not enough to entice you, here's a sample of one of the limited edition gift sets available for purchase exclusively that evening.
You can RSVP on our Facebook page.
As for the other developments, as they also say - good things come to those who wait.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
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?
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