If you're new to this blog, then read our guides to the basics: Skin (Part I), Skin (Part II), The Supernatural, Color Theory I, Color Theory II, Eyes, and Brushes.
Also, check out the blogsale.
Into The Gloss
Grain de Musc
Drivel About Frivol The Selfish Seamstress
Bois de Jasmin Glossed In Translation
Jak and Jil
Worship at the House of Blues
I Smell Therefore I Am
The Natural Haven
Moving Image Source
The Emperor's Old Clothes
Colin's Beauty Pages
Barney's jewelry department
loodie loodie loodie
The Straight Dope
Sea of Shoes
London Makeup Girl
Sakecat's Scent Project
Tom & Lorenzo: Mad Style
Beauty and the Bullshit
La Garçonne Flame Warriors Everyday Beauty
Fashion Gone Rogue
Now Smell This
A Fevered Dictation
The Canadian government requires that a certain portion of radio and TV broadcasts be given over to Canadian content, which means that over the years Canadians have had to listen to a lot of Avril Lavigne, Sarah McLachlan, Feist, Barenaked Ladies, etc. And then there are the less, um, internationally viable Canadian acts:
I hear this song and I'm instantly seven again. (It is still playing in drugstore aisles and waiting rooms across the country, by the way.) I think this might actually be the worst music video I've ever seen, but perhaps I'm just overwhelmed by the mullets.
It's tough to determine which Canadian content is truly a "guilty pleasure", by the way. The original Degrassi Junior High (I have not seen the remake, it looks far too clean and zit-free) was ever so earnest and kitschy, but if Kevin Smith vouches for it, can it really be "guilty"? Probably not.
How about some puppy dog eyes and vaguely yearning lyrics? You know you want it.
Seriously, how douchey is this? And yet.
I admit, I am a sucker for any movie with a makeover in it.
My current favourite in the girly fluff genre is Enchanted. Liking Enchanted isn't such a sin against taste; it's cute, if wildly illogical, and Amy Adams is superb in it — hers is one of those performances that turn a one-star movie into a three-star movie. No, what makes this a guilty pleasure is the ball of mush I turn into when watching this scene:
What can I say? The inner twelve-year-old dies hard. I swear, that kind of over-orchestrated, synth-heavy Disney music is designed to produce a Pavlovian response in women my age. Or, um, maybe just me.
I don't drink pop (soda, Coke, whatever you call it) because I find it far too sweet, but other than that, bring it on. I have a special fondness for things involving cheese: poutine, pizza, garlic fingers (imagine a plain cheese pizza with garlic butter in place of tomato sauce), Kraft Dinner. Oh, Kraft Dinner.
During exams I pretty much subsisted on Twizzlers and gummi bears. It helps to gnaw on something.
Including, oh yes, Rock Band. (Guitar Hero is also acceptable, but in my opinion, Rock Band is a better game.) I recently figured out how to handle the little orange button on the toy guitar: I think this gave me only slightly less pleasure than graduating from law school. I was in an auditioned children's choir when I was a kid and never quite got over it, mentally or vocally (I still sing like a little girl). I get very excited when I score over 95% on Expert vocals.
Toronto has karaoke boxes (noree-bang?) in its Korean neighbourhoods; a former boyfriend and I have spent numerous hours embarrassing ourselves in them.
Reading tarot cards (which I do rarely, and not well) invariably tells us what we already know, but sometimes this is helpful. Also, the images are beautiful.
OWNING WAY TOO MUCH LIPSTICK
The Mnemonic Sense
The Beauty Primer
On The Label
The Hit List
Color Me In
The Makeup Artist
& orientals arc