Distortion

Jessica Simson, the most recent (celebrity) woman to be attacked and accused of hiding her mortal, human skeleton (and soul) behind healthy, beautiful, protective, mortal HUMAN flesh. The names of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Trya Banks (to name a very few) have also appeared on the ongoing and ever growing list of women (particularly celebrity women) who have been accused and attacked for the same dysfunctional society's social crime. I am sure that in this very moment; somewhere in the United States (where our Hollywood standards for women vs what real, healthy women look like are the equivalent to Disney vs the Brothers Grimm . . . worlds apart) a young girl is doing something to ensure she will fit inside the tiny plastic mold of the ideal woman as she grows (but shrinks). And somewhere else in the United States - a young woman is dying or has died from an eating disorder.
And we all must take responsibility for this thinking. Every time a woman strives to live up to these airbrushed, photo-shopped, nutritionally starved, cosmetically altered (NOT enhanced, for enhancing is completely different than altering) . . . every time . . . we give POWER to the image and take the POWER from ourSelves.
Every unnecessary piece of clothing we strip from our bodies in order to expose more and more flesh to the world (for profit and for vanity) - we also strip away at ourSelves and our souls. This may sound prudish to some - but that is only because our standards have bottomed out - we have lost our class and our self-respect. I am not referring to art . . . I am referring to INTENT - the intent behind our actions and our thoughts.
I don't have to say more. Not only because I don't have the words to express my sadness, my anger and my outrage for this modern day 'witch hunt,' but rather because there is nothing more to say. It's preposterous - contrary to nature, reason, and common sense. It is absurd.
I don't want to partake in a society that thinks this way.
I don't want to live in a society that thinks this way.
I am ashamed of this society.
If we, as a society, do not collectively shift our thoughts about body image, and return to love, acceptance and GRATITUDE for our outer shells, our God-given flesh and bones . . . the temples of our SOULS - then I wish not to participate in this ill-minded, man made society.

Stop and Hear the Flowers

. . . and smell the music.






For a ticket price of approximately $100.00, one can attend Boston's Symphony Hall to hear world renowned musician-violinist, Joshua Bell, play one of the most intricate classical pieces ever written - Bach - with his handcrafted 1713 Stradivarius violin (worth 3.5 million).
For a price of approximately $100.00, one can transcend the minutus details of daily life and immerse oneself in the beauty and the splendor of the sound of art.
For $100.00, one can STOP to smell the music.
But, apparently, without this price attached, one is blind and deaf and dumb and, well, just too preoccupied and busy to actually see and hear and appreciate Joshua Bell play incognito, on a busy Washington DC metro during rush hour.
He played for 45 minutes. Only about six or seven people stopped to take notice, mostly children. His biggest fan, a six-year-old boy, was quickly whisked away by his mother. Twenty people threw money in a till - a total of $35.00. Only one person recognized him. And when Joshua completed playing the six intricate pieces by Bach . . . the familiar sounds of silence (except for the noises in their heads) comforted the ears of the passengers. No applause. No recognition. Silence.
This was all part of a social and marketing experiment by Gene Weingarten two years ago today; January 12, 2007, proving that people will designate one of two identical items as being distinctly better than the other simply because it is packaged or presented more attractively.
Weingarten set the event as an ,"experiment in context, perception and priorities - as well as an unblinking assesment of public taste: in a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

I'm bringing back the MULLET

I vote to bring back the mullet. Yes, I actually said that. No, I am not remaining anonymous. Yes, you heard me right . . . “Bring back the mullet! Bring back the mullet!” (Must be eighteen or older to participate. I will not be party to the damage which may or may not occur when forcefully cutting and shaping a small child's hair into a mullet - although I do admit subjecting my own children to wearing them, in my defense, I am a professional.)

Lately, given the everyday violence, the ongoing war and the poor economic conditions that have been wiping out an entire class of people, my people - the middle class, I was remembering the finer times of grander decades past – like the decadent eighties - a decade of abundance; prosperity; Dallas; Dynasty; the birth of MTV (when they actually played music); kick-your-ass shoulder pads; bright neon colors and bold eccentric patterns; save-us-looking-at-your-crack parachute pants; cheap gas and heavy metal; sexy exercise apparel without the hard work of actually working out; lots of makeup (on the women too) . . . and of course; big, BIG hair.

I’ve been in the beauty and fashion industries for over thirty years; I have seen many styles and trends come and go; I have experienced the underlying moods and attitudes that came and went with them . . . as art imitates life.

So, I was thinking of the possibility of the process in reverse: ‘life imitating art’ by taking the current depressed times back to a trend that would lift our spirits. And what better time or trend then the light-hearted days of BIG HAIR?

Hair, hair, long and big, beautiful hair has, through history, signified abundance, wealth, power, strength, freedom, sex and fun.

From kings and queens, politicians and barristers to wrestlers and bounty hunters. . . big hair makes a big statement.

One shaves his or her head to rid oneself of materialistic thoughts, to simplify ones existence, to minimize ones ego for spiritual purposes and to ignore the fact that one simply doesn’t have enough of the luscious adornment on top to make a statement. (Exception to the rule: Telly ‘Kojak’ Savalas . . . he was born bald and sexy)

Samson, whose power and strength came from his long hair, loses his strength when Delilah orders a servant to shave his locks.
Now what do you think about my idea of bringing back the big hair of the eighties, namely the mullet, and the philosophy of the mullet which is one we desperately need to re-adopt if we are to regain our sense of play during such sad and serious times . . . the philosophy being of course: “Business in the front; party in the back!”

A side note of history: David Bowie - the epitome of cool, the ultimate pop cult hero - wore the first mullet I can remember back in the seventies, and in all my excitement I cut my sister’s hair just like his (although she wasn’t really going for that much of an extreme and I had to pay for her Slurpies for a long time afterwards). Then, Florence Henderson shagged out the mullet and made it too mom-friendly and almost destroyed it forever.

Until along came our hair hero . . . Billy Ray Cyrus.

Billy Ray is, of course, the most recognized poster boy for the mullet. His poor achy breaky heart was ne’er broke again after he smiled a mischievous smile and turned around. Oh yeah! He wore his secrets down his back. We girls loved the party he had goin’ on and the fact that he was sharing the fun with us.

Now his daughter Mylie Cyrus - aka the mega-sensation Hanna Montana - has brought the Cyrus name back into the spotlight inspiring the younger generation of tweens and teens with her own special talent and style. But where does that leave us? What about us; the generation stuck between braced-teeth youthful optimism and not-yet-exhausted-social-security benefits? We need a hero. We need more laughter in our lives. We need something to occasionally take our minds off of the constant influx of bad news. We need more HAIR. We need a hair hero!

All I’m asking is for Billy Ray to step up to the plate and into my chair; to fulfill his duty as an American citizen; to help boost the economy and the morale of the American people by once again sporting a mullet . . . and wearing it proudly.

So, what do you say, Billy Ray? Don’t break my heart . . .

And while I’m on the subject of big hair, how about them Mall bangs . . . now that would definitely boost mall traffic, retail sales and lift the economy. Plus, it would put a fun, retro-spin on people watching.

God's Living Canvas of Perfection and Beauty

Moon rise over Lake Saint Clair - February 20, 2008 - the night of the lunar eclipse. This was the actual sight; what it really looked like. No editing or special effects. The colors were unbelievable. Gorgeous. Surreal. God truly is the Greatest artist and creator. The beauty of this moon rise made my evening.
Then, of course, there was the amazing lunar eclipse later that night . . . the red glowing veil over the moon . . . my camera could not capture that sight.
During times like these . . . tough times . . . times of transition . . . these glimpses of perfection that I see all around me are the things that keep me breathing, smiling, living, laughing, loving, dancing, writing, believing, hoping, dreaming, knowing . . . it is all good . . . everything is good. Ahhhhhh.

This image is poetry rising . . . and I'll post a poem (when it spills forth onto paper) on my Sacred Footing blog.

You Are Beautiful

For all of us who need to be reminded today...

For anyone who needs more than a reminder . . . if you have been brought down by words - abusive words by your partner in a relationship, seek support and get help. You don't have to live in that situation. Visit this blog Dangerous Liasons
Because sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can break your soul. I know, I lost 21 grams somewhere in the last two years. Now, I'm trying to gain it back. Anyone have some "diet" suggestions . . . food for the soul?

Art Met Beauty at the Grand Opening of HB Salon

Due to local popular demand, here are a few more photos (courtesy of Mikey George and Six Degrees Magazine) of the HB Heidi Bashar Salon Grand Opening benefiting the Detroit Institute Of Arts.

The VIP portion of the event, which took place from seven to nine on the evening of Thursday, January 25, 2007, in the newly remodeled third floor salon in Somerset North Collection, Troy Michigan, was shoulder-to-shoulder (or rather Gucci to Prada to Cartier) deep with Detroit's A List crowd. The salon was transformed, for a few hours, into an upscale club with live music and a complete bar. Gorgeous models, including our own Tika, who is also a makeup artist at Bashar Salon Birmingham, greeted the guests upon arrival. Trays of sushi appetizers, courtesy of Kahlil of Crave in Dearborn, were served to the delight of the crowd. (below: me with my friend and co-worker Kennice, stylist, platform artist, educator and makeup artist whose work is featured in many national and local publications including Detroit's Ambassador Magazine; Kennice's assistant,Vincent Sherk)
The event continued from 9:00pm to 1:00 am in the center court of Somerset North. I was told by Nate Forbes that this was the first time that an after hours event like this has ever taken place within the collection. Tents, elegantly draped in white linen, created a summer feel on one of the coldest nights in January. Special appearances by DJ's Mike Anthony, Matt A, Tom T and Captn 20 created the rhythm and kept the elevated dance floor spinning with the sole-full sounds of Manolo Blahniks. A strolling buffet of gourmet delicacies was provided by some of the finest metro Detroit and local area restaurants: Mosaic, Crave, Big Rock, Mon Jin Lau, Lot 1210 and Sweet Georgia Brown.






Bashar (left) definitely knows how to set a mood and create an experience. Rather than just putting on (one of his many) parties or organizing major city events in the usual way, he adds his eclectic style and unique touch - his worldly travels to Paris, Milan, Brazil and Miami are evident in all he does. Bashar's multi-talented abilities - successful hairstylist to local as well as national celebrities; coordinator and contributor for many fashion and cultural city events; architectural designer and interior decorator (he designed both salons) is proof that a boy who came from modest beginnings - but who had a creative vision, a strong desire and much ambition, (along with hard work and plenty of risk taking) - can transform his life's dreams into reality and become the man (an extremely good-looking man at that) with a Midas touch.



(above) Fashion reporter WDIV Local 4 Jon Jordan; The Managing Editor of Clear and Creative Director of Ambassador Magazine; Stylist at Bashar Salon (and Bashar's brother) Ricky Kallabat; and very beautiful friend.


Among the many party goers were my daughter - Alexia Hadjiveloudos of Dawn Owen Design and Nancy Dabish (Bashar Salon's right hand and welcoming smile).

Lights, camera . . . lots of action

So many events, weddings, parties lately. For me, it's either all or nothing . . . feast or famine . . . I love the night life and I love social events, but I also love kicking back back on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a good movie (and a friend, too, when possible). Seems like I have been spending a lot of time putting outfits together, makeup on, blowing out my hair. But, I take what comes my way because it's life in motion. Things are always changing, including my moods! I'm a woman . . . and like a Viper - I can go from zero to sixty in 3.8 seconds!
Although, I think things are beginning to calm down for a time . . . I don't see any more invites laying around on my desk or stuck to the refrigerator door. Soon, I will begin to feel a bit unloved and forgotten about, and I will have forgotten my own wishes for quieter days . . . but until then, I am breaking out the face scrub, moisturizing mask and a good book.
The photo above was taken (with a camera phone) at a DIA fund raiser / grand opening of our new (Bashar) salon, HB, in the Somerset Collection last Thursday evening. I had a great time and the event was a huge success. Last night I attended a friend and co-worker's wedding. Today, I have a a few errands to run and some other catching up to do. I have some popcorn stashed away (my house is a revolving door, so I have to hide the goods sometimes!) I think I will watch an on demand movie . . . maybe "My Super Ex Girlfriend" or some other light-hearted chick flick comedy. I hope my eyes can resist scanning my calendar as a child scans the inside of the refrigerator . . . again and again . . . just in case something should appear that wasn't there before.

The Beauty - Pain Relationship

When I die, I want to be buried in my Dolce & Gabbana boots, as long as I don't have to climb too many stairs to get to the pearly gates - because, unlike Nancy Sinatra's famous go-go boots - these boots were not made for walking! They are just a small discomfort and only one example of what I endure - the quietly suffering aches and pains - in the name of fashion and beauty. I'll suffer with the most of them, but not with he best of them. For example, I won't go as far a having surgery on my feet, like some of the women I know, in order to continue wearing extreme stilettos. No . . . I put my foot (my God-given foot) down on that one.
Throughout time, and as early as the Egyptians, women have endured discomfort and pain and have even risked death all in the name of beauty. In this twenty-first century, botox injections (a form of botulism to temporarily paralyze expression lines, minimizing wrinkles), starvation diets, breast and buttocks implants, to name a few, almost pale in comparison to the Victorian days when pale skin - the sign of an aristocrat (while the working class were marked with tans) - was achieved by using toxic combinations lead oxide and arsenic in powders to whiten the skin. Leaches were even used to bleed the skin to give it a paler appearance. (Dracula may have been the first doctor of beauty) For that dreamy look, women dropped Belladonna, a poisonous herb, into their eyes to dilate their pupils. Metal-framed corsets that impaired breathing and restricted circulation in the 1870’s (just two of ninety-seven listed corset-induced ailments), gave way to the modern girdles of the 1970’s. The highly flammable, rash inducing horse-hair and straw-filled crinolines were improved upon in the 1860’s by using a cage-like frame of steel or whalebone hoops that measured ten yards around and made it almost impossible for a woman to maneuver in. One hundred years later, women traded up by wearing five inch platform shoes that made walking an activity that should have had its own separate insurance policy.

Getting back to these modern times of today, the desired looks may have changed, but our means of achieving them, and the dangers we knowingly and readily submit ourselves to, have not lessoned with time and experience.

Today, we risk skin cancer to look like we can afford wintering in Palm Springs or at least monthly weekend trips to South Beach. We voluntarily starve ourselves and vacuum out our fat - because unlike the days when plumpness was a sign of abundance, being anything more than skinny today means that one cannot afford a nutritionist or a personal trainer and can only afford a Big Mac and fries.

Who sets these standards of beauty? Is it the collective consciousness of society? The fashion houses of Paris, Milan and New York? The A list pawns who must play the game to be queened in the socialite and Hollywood circles?

Can beauty be achieved without pain? According to some writings, thoughts and research, beauty and pain go hand-in-hand. Pain is a reoccurring theme in the study of beauty, aesthetics and life experience. Pain brings, with it, gifts. The pain of childbirth brings a beautiful life into the world. The pain of a broken heart births poetry and beautiful stories. Pain makes us more receptive to life and more alert to beauty. Pain protects us. Pain brings growth. Pain is a teacher. The hero or heroine must suffer to win the love and respect of the people. Beauty, love, pain . . . are all in inhaled in one breath.

"Beauty and pain are linked," poet David Bergman says. "Sometimes beauty is the compensation for having experienced pain. Sometimes beauty has its own pain because it's not going to last. If we're only willing to experience pain or experience beauty, then we're going to live on only some of our gears."

So, as I was saying earlier, please, when I die, bury me in my boots . . . for the pain I will have endured while wearing them as I walked my path in this life (though, nothing compared to the pain of their price tag)is my ticket straight into heaven without having to stop in purgatory.