~ holiday cheer ~

The leaves have fallen.  The cookies are baked.  The wrapping paper is down from the attic.

The Holidays are here.

 

And with the Holidays come holiday parties, holiday music on the record player, and a sudden desire to not wear what I slept in.  The fake eyelashes come out of their box, stockings out of their drawer, hair is put into pin curls, nailed are painted, and festive clothing rescued from the back of the closet.

 Perhaps it's the Publix commercials that never fail to bring me to tears, or seeing wreaths hung on doors, or stockings over fireplaces, but the holiday season seems especially merry this year.

2015 has done its best to knock me down - and it's going out with a bang - but despite the painful things in this world, the holiday season still comes around, presents are still given, and love is still shared.  There may be days when it's hard to get out of bed, and hard to face the things one must face, but these moments of happiness (however fleeting) make life worth while.

 

So, Happy Holidays.  Hold your loved-ones close, appreciate what you have, and eat lots of cookie dough.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ fire and ice ~

As anyone who knows me well (or has seen the inside of my bathroom cabinet) will tell you, I have a bit of an obsession with  lipstick.  This would also be apparent if you took a peek inside of my purse, inside of my car, or inside of my bedroom.  I don't pretend to have a grasp on this obsession, and I frequently tell myself "it's not a problem unless you dream about Revlon," but let's call a spade a spade: I know my lipstick.


Coralberry, cherries in the snow, siren, etc., etc., so on and so forth.  Reds, pinks, oranges, orangey-reds, reddish-oranges, orangey-pinks, pinkish-oranges.  Each is totally different, and yes, totally necessary.  But my most-used and most-loved is Revlon's Fire and Ice.
 



The name really says it all - a name created by Bea Castle and Kay Daly.  A passionate, bright red shade with just a hint of orange.  Creamy and comfortable, and perfect for a night out or a quick trip to the grocery store. 

I lucked out a few years ago and managed to buy this shade in the sleek tube (a limited edition), seen above.  I've been hooked every since. 

The history of Fire and Ice is just as deep as the shade.  Two years before the introduction of Fire and Ice, Revlon introduced Where's the Fire to the public.  This shade was popular in its own right, but never reached the heights that Fire and Ice did.  Following its release in 1952 with the two page spread featuring Dorian Leigh seen above, Revlon saw 9,000 window displays dedicated to their newest shade, nationwide Fire and Ice beauty contests, and countless mentions in radio shows, television shows, and in the press.  American women were finally being given a shade of lipstick that wasn't submissive, tame, or easily ignorable.  The Fire and Ice woman was bold, elegant, glamorous, and not the least bit afraid of color.  As one ad stated "What is the American girl made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice? Not since the days of the Gibson Girl! There's a new American beauty . . . she's tease and temptress, siren and gamin, dynamic and demure. Men find her slightly, delightfully baffling. Sometimes a little maddening. Yet they admit she's easily the most exciting woman in the world! She's the 1952 American beauty, with a foolproof formula for melting a male! She's the 'Fire and Ice' girl. (Are You?)"

In a time when all eyes were on European beauty and fashion, Revlon wanted a shade that showed the world that American women had the same amount of sex-appeal and passion as the French and the Italian.  If a woman had any doubt about choosing such a daring shade, Revlon's quiz could help them decide.

Have you ever danced with your shoes off?
Did you ever wish on a new moon?
Do you blush when you find yourself flirting?
When a recipe calls for one dash of bitters, do you think it's better with two?

Do you secretly hope the next man you meet will be a psychiatrist?
Do you sometimes feel that other women resent you?
Have you ever wanted to wear an ankle bracelet?
Do sables excite you, even on other women?
Do you love to look up at a man?
Do you face crowded parties with panic -- then wind up having a wonderful time?
Does gypsy music make you sad?Do you think any man really understands you?Would you streak your hair with platinum without consulting your husband?
If tourist flights were running, would you take a trip to Mars?
Do you close your eyes when you're kissed?

So, how do you fare?

xoxo,
Eliza

~ barbie girl ~

When thinking back on my childhood, I see flashes of swimming pools, birthday parties, Hot Wheels, tree climbing, and playing Oregon Trail (not the computer game) in the front yard with a wagon full of Ritz crackers, bundles of grass clippings (for the oxen), a thermos of hot chocolate, stacks of blankets (for fort-building), and all the things one would need for embarking on a day-long journey through the dangerous terrain of rural north Florida.

But most of all, I think of playing dress up with hand-me-downs that floated through the closets of every single kid in my neighborhood, and concocting elaborate plots, acted out by my vast collection of Barbies and Barbie paraphernalia.

I absolutely grew up in the era of Barbie, let me make that clear.  My friend had a hot pink, kid-sized Barbie jeep and was the envy of all she met/nearly ran over.  I had ten Barbies (four stolen from my sister) and dozens and dozens of outfits for every season and occasion, from summertime at the Malibu beach house, to parachuting out of the second-story window.  It was an exciting life.

I had, and still have, a kick-ass kitchen set - complete with a frying pan that would flip pancakes, an ice maker that had tiny plastic pieces of ice that were just small enough to settle into the carpet and give you a rude awakening when you walked across the room an hour later, an oven that would make a sizzling noise when you put in the fake turkey and ding when it was fully-cooked, and cabinets and drawers FULL of plates, bowls, serving dishes, breakfast cereal, canned goods, cake mixes, drinking glasses, and a vast array of cutlery.  It was 90s-child heaven.

To fuel our obsession, in between the time we spent getting stuck in trees and fantasizing about Chad Michael Murray, my collection of friends and I would spy on my sister and her friends who spent hours choreographing and rehearsing a dance to Barbie Girl (that I still remember to this day and will perform in exchange for a crisp fifty dollar bill).  It wasn't until a decade later that I googled the lyrics and realized that what once flew right over my head was now as clear as day, but c'est la vie!  The damage was already done.

Now, let's be honest here.  My Barbie collection is in a plastic box, either shoved under my bed, or somewhere in my closet.  I'm no longer in love with Barbie or envious of her waist.  I've been made aware of the over-sexualization of young girls, the ridiculous gender stereotypes present in the toy aisle, and my feminist self cringes at the recent onslaught of "girl toys" that, yet again, put the emphasis on outward appearance rather than inward growth.  But even I have to admit; vintage Barbie rocks.

The hair!  The makeup!  The clothes!  The picnic sets!  She makes my heart flutter.

And until someone makes Barbie dolls without funky feet, a wasp waist, and permanent makeup, she'll have to do.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ the nineteen twenties ~

I'm often struck by a feeling of homesickness when listening to music or watching a movie from the 1920s.  Perhaps this connection I feel to the past is due to the fact that I was brought up on old black and whites and jazz records.  Or perhaps it's due to the multitude of stories that my grandparents would tell me when I was little.  Or perhaps it's due to the fact that I've been reincarnated and I was once a teenaged showgirl living in Paris (I'm only slightly joking).  But despite the reason, I find myself undeniably drawn to the past as though I'm attached to it by a string.  I watch old movies, I collect old clothes, I listen to old music, and I listen intently to stories from the past.  And I count myself very lucky to live in a time when my fascination is not only allowed, but accepted.

Some days I feel more homesick than others, and on those days I drop everything and play dress up (that's what adults do, right?).

Personally, I think there's no better way to spend a morning than in a velvet opera cape from the 20s and ten pounds of beads.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ betty grable ~

Ohhhh Betty.  The queen of pin up.  The quintessential renaissance woman.  The envy of all.
(the reason why I wanted to dye my hair blonde when I was 12).

How I love you.

Years ago, after my obsession began, I couldn't pass a mirror without practicing the classic Betty pose seen above.  I'm pretty sure I can attribute many sore muscles and hurt necks to her.

But since then I've moved on from posing and into the territory of hair styling.  It's a lot less taxing on the back.

{pardon the terrible quality of these photos.  It was 10 pm and I was too lazy to get out my photography lamps}

Although I'm quite proud of my curls, considering this was the day after I washed my hair and the humidity was off the charts, I'm not quite on Betty's level.  

Clearly I have a lot to learn.  Luckily spring break is right around the corner, so I'll have plenty of time to practice!

xoxo,

Eliza

~ baby it's cold outside ~

Merry Christmas to all you lovely people!

Today I celebrated with a big breakfast (and my grandfather's famous oven toast recipe), a long walk with my mom, and seeing Into The Woods with one of my best friends.  It was a great day!

Today was all about being thankful for what I have instead of wishing for more and appreciating the little things.  I snuggled with my mom, danced around my room to holiday music, wore high heels for no reason, and talked to my neighbors.  It was a good day.

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday and a great rest of 2014.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ swing time ~

Last night was the annual swing dance in the streets.  I've waited for this since last year's event, counting down the days!  It lived up to its expectations.

{I might have picked out my outfit a month in advance}

This is one of my favorite 1940s dresses and after a little repairing and altering it fits like a glove.  I paired it with a vintage velvet 40s hat and vintage silk flower that belonged to my grandmother.  

It was a perfect night of dancing with strangers, listening to great music, and meeting new friends!  Let's do it again next year.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ bow down to the brows ~

All my life I've had what I like to call "baby brows."  Teeny tiny, not a hair out of place, and perfectly boring. So a couple years ago I decided to start training my brows (i.e. plucking a few hairs every month and hoping I'd plucked the right ones) so I could easily achieve a 1940s and 50s look with just a bit of pencil and some patience.

My perfect eyebrow would be somewhere between Joan Crawford and Lauren Bacall with a little bit of Carmen Miranda thrown in there for added fun.

And to those of you who are thinking "does she really put that much thought into her eyebrows?"  Yes.  Yes I do.

Who knows - maybe one day I'll join the ranks of Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe.  But first I need to get braver with my tweezers!

Happy plucking.

xoxo,

Eliza

~ lovely rita ~

If you haven't seen the 1944 musical "Cover Girl" with Rita Hayworth and Gene Kelly, do yourself a favor and watch it ASAP.

Colorful, upbeat, wonderfully predictable, and wonderfully costumed.  

Seriously though.  THE COSTUMES.  

{major hair inspiration}

Seriously, go watch it now!  I'm gonna go dig some vintage silk flowers out of my closet and set my hair.

xoxo,

Eliza