Yipstick and Barbie

 

 

 

Commercials have changed gradually, neither good or bad.  It is hard to explain, but health and beauty are huge on the commercial market. Women + kept home to work or whatever + overeating + looking in the mirror is generally 

unhealthy for all. 

My gr-daughters have taken me to Ulta, a store that is a cornucopia for all sorts of make-up with all its enticement. They had a list and some $$ from Dad. I followed along, mentally tallying how much they needed when Dad's $$ ran out. Not much $$ at all, but it thrilled me.

Lipstick is marked as being an instigator of make-up history. Fruit dyes (no cost) for lips then. Now lipsticks are chemical magic, expensive magic at that. 

Who likes lipstick? Besides teen age girls at ULTA, little girls who have found Mommy's lipstick in her purse really love lipstick. 

Home Depot

If I have discovered this major cuteness by myself, think how many videos there might be of lipstick fans? Or finger nail polish?

Barbies

Just a note, I am not a make-up collector. My gr-daughters do that for me.

This is a repost of 2020,  I know many have read this post from back then. My wrist is a cruel task master.This has been a hard experience. Gotta keep taking care.Gotta plow the row.

Samuel and the First Baptist Church

Source: TACLUDA

With Nana living in the guest room, a heavy handed clamp fell.  Lock-step grated on Samuel, creating a bubble of suppressed creativity.  If something does not free me from this hell hole, I cannot be held responsible.  Samuel steamed.

Destiny intervened.

 Nana’s long-time friend Pastor Beech of the First Baptist Church had recently called, leaving a flyer that boasted of the innovative and structured childcare available. 

On a fateful Sunday with Samuel clutched between them, The Mommy and Nana dragged him to the childcare room, a delightful sunny room with a large painted mural of Jesus and little children. 

Samuel smiled.  So this is Jesus…let the children come unto Me…

Nana perceived a mental warning bell.  She ignored it, leaving Samuel with four smiling women and one sullen teenage Goth girl.

Samuel scoped out the room.  Window—no problem.  Paint—only tempera, but usable.  Jesus—His face within reach.  Goth girl’s purse—open with make-up.  Lipstick—black. 

A boy and his art media.  Oh, God is good, all the time.  This is gonna be epic…

Church service had moved beyond the songs and offering collection.  The Mommy and Daddy were smiling.  But, Nana felt hackles rise.  ‘Samuel.  Oh no, not here.’

When the Head Usher scurried to Nana, she rose without a word.  Seeing a look of horror and a black streak down his left cheek, Nana sighed. ‘He found someone’s lipstick.  Damn.’

She ran to the child care room, where the toddlers were huddled behind Mrs. Beech. 

The other women chased the other screaming three year terrors; they had streaked the walls with rainbows of Crayola markers.  The Noah’s Ark poster was a sodden mess of yellow and red paint, while the window glass had splats of green and black.

Samuel was just putting the finishing touches on Jesus’ face with the lipstick.  A uni-brow and a tattoo, perfect!  Now, just some heavier body hair…

Nana scooped him under one arm and stalked from the room. 

In the seething silent drive home, Samuel hummed, Yes, Jesus loves me!  Yes, Jesus loves me…  “We go again, Nana?”  He asked.

Carl Heinrich Bloch, Luke 18: 16-17

Wednesday Words

My words this week are late again.  Blame it on pumpkin pie.

Allow      horizon    song           cramp        string       feline

From Delores at thefeatherednest:

Ice      jingle             frosty            tingle    moonlight              shadows

She shivered in the frosty air of Dole’s Drugstore.  When the door opened, the bell would jingle.  In the moonlight shadows behind the lipsticks, Madeleine tingled with excitement.  Applying a layer of “Fire and Ice”, she prepared for her rendezvous. 

A is for Avon

A is for…Avon.

No, not the Stratford-on-Avon, although that would also be a good choice for the April 1^st post.

I am talking about Avon, the maker of women’s cosmetics.

At least, it used to sell  only women’s cosmetics. That was back in the 1960s, when I was a

child. Living in a rural community where cornfields surrounded our farm on all sides,

and shopping was something we did on Saturdays at the local grocery store in our small

Thank you, Toulouse!

town, cosmetics were a rarity in our house.

Then the Avon Lady came on the scene. She visited our house, with her catalog of lipsticks, lotions, perfumes, facial cream, and whatever. She carried a sharp briefcase that opened out to display the rainbow selection of everything. I stood behind my mother, looking over her shoulder, and audibly gasped whenever Mom took a minute tube of lipstick and streaked it across the back of her hand. It only took two or three streaks before she selected a color, and placed her order. Mom always chose a vivid red.

Then we kept the sample miniature lipsticks.

To some this may seem a “So what?” But, in 1960 in a remote rural setting, cosmetics

were not widely available or commonly used. Grocery stores sold groceries, meats, and

the personal items like shampoo and Kotex. (The Kotex boxes were wrapped in brown paper bags, for discreet purchases.) Drug stores sold health items and some make-up. 

Cosmetics didn’t have a big following.

The Avon Lady knocked at doors, and transformed the lives of farm women and small town housewives nationwide. They looked forward to the Avon Lady’s visit, and a chance to sit down with someone else besides the farmer husband. With coffee and pie

on the table, ladies of the house (and their daughters) saw how they could look, and it was a touch of glamour.

I salute you, Avon Ladies of the World.

Many thanks to Arlee Bird and your amazing crew, for having such a great idea, and being the instigators!
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