Finger Food--Delicious Nails

Lately, I'm into nail polish. It's fabulous. You wouldn't believe the colors, unless you've checked. Because I'm a color person, I've become imbued. Or imhued as you prefer. I'm only using Revlon products for a few reasons: Reliable label, been around forever, terrific colors, inexpensive, my choices are automatically limited by brand. Whew.

It started with an ad in a fashion magazine. Purple. Well, I thought, who knows... I can try. (You have to understand that at this juncture, I hadn't worn polish in say, 30 years or so.) Nevertheless, I went for it--Impulsive, they called it. EEEEEEEEK!!!!! That was the first response. It gradually softened to Yikes!, mellowed to a Hmmmmmm..., and settled with a Gee! Try it. You'll like it.

The first trick is to buy stock in cotton balls and polish remover. Because you use more of those than anything. Trust me. That and practicing to be ambidextrous in order to do both hands with minimal mess, are the trickiest parts.

From there, it's just plain fun. Most of all, because I'm using my nails to outfit myself! Instead of jeans and turtleneck in whatever is clean, suddenly it's the polish of the week, with a palette of colors that I have to match. It is absolutely Cool. I have gotten out Mother's and Gram's jewelry from the 30's and the '40's--the big brooches especially--and I'm going for marvelous color. I'm In! I'm 35 again!

So, I started with Impulsive, as I say. From there, I went to Foxy, which is a classy housepaint brown. Mischievous, a sort of greyed violette and elegant, came next. (Impulsive and Foxy are more for sport). I was off and painting. Bewitching, Vixen, Raven Red, Valentine, Plum Seduction... I'm on my 13th color. This week is Revlon Red. Miss Scarlet. Flash and Dash. I've tried reds, deep magentas, and I've tried purples. All are scrumptious.  

Beware however: Some hues are just not good with everyone's skin tones. Skin is first in all things, remember, if you're doing fashion; your own coloring comes before that of what you choose to wear.

This weekend, I attempted a lovely shade: Spanish Moss. I want to tell you, it was more than charming in the bottle; the color, I swear, spoke with a Southern accent, it was such a deliciously mellow and creamy green. Yes, indeed. Thing is, alas, I am not a Southern Belle. My olive-with-yellow-undertones skin, surrounding what was actually more like "General MacArthur Olive Drab," was less than I had hoped. As a salesclerk said, when I went to Macy's, "Honey, I'm from Looziana, so I know about Spanish moss. And this ain't it. Not on you, Girl. It just ain't workin' for ya." And that.was.that.

My Prince Charming said that the Spanish Moss made my hands look old and gnarled, like a withering tree, with dying green buds at the end of each twig. Sigh... Would that I were a lovely blonde or redhead, instead of a sallowed old broad...

That was the end of the Spanish Moss. But take heart! Every shade but that, has been a giggle and an inspiration for great outfits. You can't believe what ensembles I've dug out of drawers and closets to make this stuff work! What is happening is that the polish is not only decorating my nails, but is re-designing my entire attitude!  A new wardrobe without the purchase of a single new garment.  I'm telling you, again: Try it.  

Go with any brand or color you like. Makes no difference to me. Just give yourself a lift, and dare to be daring. It's amazing how few people have a sense of humor when it comes to themselves. What about You? What about Me? Break out of the mold.  It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys--no kidding!

We're going into holiday. So the Revlon Red is perfect. As is the silver glittered Stunning. Next week, however, just between us, I'm going to try Rain Forest. Yes. Another green. But this time it's like a group of tall, dark trees on a chilly, dewy morning, deep into the Amazon's undergrowth... Doesn't it sound exciting???

I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, try it yourself!

Syndicate: The Mob, Publishers, Columnists, and Me

So here I am on Skype, Twitter, Facebook, Linked-in, with a blog [TheGrownUpsTable.com], a website [CustomUniformCompany.com], and emails. I'm a Syndicate.  I'm told that this is what I have to do in order to "participate."  If I want to write, hobnob, "connect with people;" blow my own horn, introduce myself to the world. Tra la. What ever happened to the "Coming Out Party?"  I thought people were supposed to come to meet me (invitation, only, of course), rather than I having to extend and meet them...  I guess social media is just that.  Only I give my own party and introduce me to you. Hello, out there!  

Once, the Syndicate was about Al Capone and the Mob.  The big boys in the killer "zoot suit with a drape shape and a reep pleat;" fedora pulled down low over the eyes, wide lapels, pinstripes; a machine gun hidden in the violin case, and cement shoes to be worn in the East River if one didn't pay up on time.  Yes.  "Da boyz" who were stationed here and there with their icy fingers reaching across the nation, creeping in to folks' pockets for the murderously desperate payola.  Drugs, booze, prostitution, and dough--bigtime. The Syndicate.

Or, there are the monolithic publishing houses:  Remember Citizen Kane? Great movie.  Yes.  William Randolph Hearst, San Simeon, and the Hearst Corporation: Harper's Bazaar, Seventeen, Esquire, Town & Country, Cosmopolitan + books, TV, newspapers. Conde Nast, and the vast empire of New Yorker, Architectural Digest, Wired, Vogue and more.  Today's world is about technological delivery via APPs instead of a stamp and bulk mail. But syndicated is still syndicated.  In this newsstand, or that grocery store. Fashion, food, computers, news, entertainment; what's posh or smashing, new and different, in this world.    Multiple mags, multiple pages and layouts, appeal to multiple types. Syndicated.

Columnists were published along with their periodicals when the newspaper was king.  Remember Art Buchwald, Dave Barry, Erma Bombeck?  Louella Parsons, Drew Pearson, H.L. Mencken? Syndicated in every paper that was worth reading.  Today, some of the greats include Dennis Prager, Charles Krauthammer, Thomas Friedman, Robert Samuelson. The comics, of course. A ubiquitous name across the country's printed page that means "quality, reliable, familiar and famous."  Syndicated:  Income, fame, speaking engagements, opinions worth discussing at the dinner table.  Can I look forward to this?  Gee...

Yes, at last, I'm my own syndicate.  Only not by choice so much as necessity. Splattered all over the place.  Instead of fame and fortune, however, I'm struggling like mad to keep up with contacts, sites, and responses.   A desperate attempt to appear interesting, clued and tuned in, infinitely wise, witty, and without another thing to do but connect & communicate.  I don't get paid, don't get recognition, don't get someone to do my editing, layout, or P.R.  I can never remember where I put my book of passwords.  The only thing that's "coming out"  is my waistline from sitting so much in front of the computer.  But yes, I'm it.  The new syndication.  Me, myself, and I: The Syndicate.