Showing posts with label 00s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 00s. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Pop Culture Beauty School: The 15 Beauty Lessons We Learned From Sex And The City

Like many pop culture gems worth their salt, Sex and the City had some freaking fantastic beauty moments. Like Carrie's hair. And Carrie's hair. And when Samantha shaved her head after chemo treatments, and that hot bia Smith followed suit. That was a real sacrifice; dude had some magical-ass hair. 

But even beyond that, SATC gave us actual teachable beauty lessons -- times you could say, "Shit, I FEEL that." Here are my favorite 15.

1. It may take a minute to find a good look for yourself. 
(Season 1, Episode 1)


Hopefully, you've already gleaned this nugget of beauty information from me, but if you haven't, I think this photo collage alone allows me to rest my case, Your Honor. Your pilot look usually sucks, even in life.

2. Don't stay up doing shady shit all night when you're shooting a cover story for NEW YORK EFFING MAGAZINE the next day. (Season 2, Episode 4)

In this case, Carrie should have used her own GD advice and taken a Nap(a). And maybe time-traveled to 2015 and used a really hydrating sheet mask? Yes, that's a question mark.

3. Instead of having "the talk" with your (maybe) boyfriend, just leave your tampons and a brush there. (Season 2, Episode 11)

Talking sucks; let your girly shit do the speaking.

4. Hair plugs are scary. (Season 2, Episode 11)

Have these things improved with time? Help me, Bosley Medical.

5. Let your boob flag fly, you total Char. 
(Season 3, Episode 3)

Charlotte was super uptight about showing her bawdy, but once she was actually naked, everyone was like, "Uhh...nice rack." So, quit being all uncool. Okay?

6. Getting your hootenanny waxed is probably horrible. 
(Season 3, Episode 14)

 I, admittedly, have never done this. I attempted to begin an at-home wax once, and it was the worst and I got a shitty rash. HARD PASS on the real thing.

7. Braces are a real bitch. (Season 3, Episode 15)

It doesn't matter if you're 14 or 40, having metal in your mouth is not NEARLY as fun as flattening a paperclip and pretending it's a retainer. Futuristic mouth transplants, where you at?

8. Keep some flip flops, or some type of shit, in your bag. 
(Season 3, Episode 17)

Carrie was foot-mugged on the dirty-ass streets of New York, and we couldn't help but wonder: would you rather a), keep some simple type of footwear in your bag for emergencies; or b), have Britney-barefoot-in-a-Starbucks feet? Choose your own adventure.

9. Heidi Klum ain't all that. (Season 4, Episode 2)

JK, JK; she totally is. And, also, if Dolce & Gabbana tell you to put on bedazzled underwear and get to stepping, you do it?

Then you fall on your a-hole. And it's fine.

10. Fake nips are an actual thing. (Season 4, Episode 6)

I have nothing else to say about this. I just wanted you to know that they exist.

11. Dudes really like deodorant. (Season 4, Episode 13)

Carrie found hoarder-levels of antiperspirant in Aidan's man stuff, and I have found similar things around my own house. This makes me ask -- Dudes, why you so obsessed with deodorant?

12. Sarcasm Report: If you want to look whorey, get some volume in your hair and define your eyebrows. 
(Season 5, Episode 3)

Charlotte went to Atlantic City with the other girls of SATC, and decided to slip into a shiny freakum dress and v, v solid hair and makeup. She was trying to look slutty, and I LIKED IT A LOT. Buy some eyeliner, Charlotte York. It's not just for sluts anymore! (Can that please be a tagline for a cosmetics ad?)

13. Face peels will peel your face. (Season 5, Episode 5)

Samantha got a peel, and looked a hot and bloody mess, as one is wont-ish to look. It is my one great hope that they put raspberry jelly all over Kim Cattrall's face to film these scenes, like they do with pretend newborns in movies, who are actually like 28 months old.

14. If you have a cystic zit, LEAVE IT THE HELL ALONE.
 (Season 5, Episode 7)

Carrie had a big-ass zit. On a dirty-ass train. If you find yourself in that exact situation, just leave it alone and slap a sulfur-y mud mask on your face. Not all zits are meant to be popped. (I know, I know. Don't pop anything. Boring.)

15. Don't dye your pubes with hair dye. Please. 
(Season 6A, Episode 12)

Samantha found a gray pube and decided to try to get the carpet to match the drapes, but ended up with clown wig shrubs. If you REALLY want to dye your bathing suit area, that's cool. Just use that actual dye for that actual area. Or maybe wear a merkin! People don't wear merkins enough these days.

What was your biggest beauty learnin' from Sex and the City? And are you currently wearing a merkin? Plz respond.

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Wednesday, July 8, 2015

I Made Every Single Late '90s/Early '00s Beauty Mistake, Let Us Never Forget These Lessons

What a time to be alive, what a time to be alive. I'm going to keep it real on these blog streets -- coming of age in the '90s and '00s was a hideous experience. I'm not trying to diminish other time periods to get your first period, but these decades were trash. Maybe not even worthy of being called trash. Like, trash juice.

There were so many horrendous beauty things considered acceptable, and even desirable, during this time, that it's almost hard to remember them all. Thankfully for my brain (but not for my pride or my eyeballs), I have photographic evidence of all of these tragic missteps. Let's journey back in time to relive all of the magic bad shit, with the top five things I learned from my late '90s/early '00s beauty mistakes.

Lesson #1: There is such a thing as too blonde.

While living in the era of Pam-Anderson-is-QWEEN, it was hard to grasp the idea that hair can be TOO blonde. That's like saying Baywatch running is TOO slow-motion. Or Tommy Lee steers a boat with his ween TOO well. That can't exist.

But when you're dyeing your hair every two weeks with platinum box dye from Walgreens until it's the color and texture of cotton-flavored cotton candy, it's time to re-evaluate your hair color choices. Life is not a Christina Aguilera "Dirrty" video. I didn't learn this lesson for roughly eight years, but it's still a lesson to be learned.

Lesson #2: There is also such a thing as too big and dangle-y of a belly button ring.

I really tried in earnest to find a picture featuring one of my most giant belly button rings, but I guess that disposable Kodak camera got lost in life's shuffle. Small gifts. We'll just have to use this pretty run-of-the-mill dangler as evidence.

Early ought belly rings were at least the size of a strip of bacon, and sold at a minimum of 27 malls kiosks per every shopping mall in America. This was before you were bombarded with flat iron kiosk employees. This was even before flat irons. Just use your imagination, youngsters.

The variety in the rings was dazzling, literally. Every belly ring was bling-ier and more grandiose than the next. Do you want an actual bedazzled license plate of your home state to be tethered to your abdomen? You got it, dude!

How nubile belly button skin was not ripped apart by these monstrosities on a daily basis has to be at least the 31st wonder of the world. Please don't repeat this trend, youths.

Lesson #3: Wearing a Playboy bunny head sticker in a tanning bed should be avoided at all costs.

Okay, so you can't actually see the Playboy bunny-shaped area of untanned skin on my hip, because my hooded, sleeveless top from Wet Seal is thankfully covering it, BUT IT'S THERE, LURKING.

I recently read that use of tanning beds has dropped dramatically in the past few years, and halleloo for that. Don't eff with that mess. But back in the tanning heyday of '90s/'00s, there was a weird and disturbing phenomenon of people putting stickers on their bodies and tanning to create temporary and usually ridiculously-themed shapes on their sexy parts, like skin Lucky Charms.

Why did humanity take part in such an unnecessary and dangerous activity? I don't know. Maybe I'll donate my brain to science, like a formerly-tanned, tacky, non-serial killer version of John Wayne Gacy.

Lesson #4: Using a drill on natural nails 
probably isn't a great idea.

LORD JESUS, LOOK AT MY NAILS. You would've had to pry the chocolate brown, long-as-hell, square, acrylic nails from my cold, dead fingertips of late '90s me. I loved those bitches almost as much as I loved a festive choker.

Not only did they look atrocious, they were a real dick when it came to my nail health. My nail tech used a nail file attached to an actual drill on my real nails, like we were posted up in aisle three of Home Depot. I am not a medical professional, or really any kind of professional, but that cannot be good for your nails. Why this was so widely practiced and accepted in the nail world at the time remains a mystery bigger than Big Foot's whereabouts.

A big, acrylic thumbs-up to you, too, big guy.

Lesson #5: Eyebrows may never grow back, so be 
conservative with those tweezers.

I look back at pictures of myself from these decades of yore and deeply mourn for my lost eyebrows. Where were they? What had I done to them? Were they crying, and that's why they looked like a teardrop?

I was lucky in that my brow follicles didn't just up and quit my face. I know plenty of people that are completely unable to grow eyebrows now, thanks to tweezer abuse of the '90s and '00s. Kids of today, please know this: eyebrow styles come and go. Leave your GD brow hairs alone for the most part.

Bonus Lesson: Diamonds are forever. So are tramp stamps.

I'm not at all against tattoos. I think they are beautiful. But I happen to hate everything on earth after (at most) two years, so tattoos are a terrible idea for me. Especially when the only one that I have is a circa-'99 butterfly, forever hovering over my aging ass crack. It's like a constant butt billboard that screams, "Life: Proceed with caution because this too shall pass."

Please share your horrendous '90s and '00s beauty mistakes with me, so I don't feel so, so alone.

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Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The "What's It Like?" Chronicles: Boob Job Edition

before: so much early '00s & after: '10, probs the last time I wore a bra
I don't think I've ever mentioned here that I have fake boobs. I mean, I also have real boobs, but underneath those are fake bag ones. It definitely hasn't been an intentional omission, you know that I'm weirdly transparent about my life. Maybe even too transparent, like Crystal Pepsi. I've just had these ol' puppies for ten years, and I don't ever think about them. I also don't ever wear boob-showy stuff anymore, so much so that I had to dig back four years for this current-ish boob picture.

But this is a blog about me sharing my experiences about beauty-related shit, and this happened in my life and is semi-beauty-ish, so we might as well talk about it. Especially since I have already done a post about what it's like to get Botox. I'm just going to keep chugging along on this cosmetic alterations train. Choo mf-ing choo.

If you don't have two effs to rub together about boobs, or boob-related surgeries, feel completely free to skip all of this hootenany. (Boobenany?)

When people find out I've had a boob job, I usually get my fair share of questions and curiosities, so I've compiled a few of the regular ones. If you have weirder ones, feel free to ask.

Why did you get them? I've always had my fair share of body issues. I can literally remember the minute they started. I was a Freshman in high school, shopping at 5-7-9 with my mom for a Homecoming dress. I put the first one on: a lace, spaghetti-strapped, long, tight navy dress. It was the first time I had ever noticed that I had recently developed hips. And saddle bags. I told my mom that I wasn't coming out of the dressing room because I was fat. She said something to the effect of, "This is what an adult body looks like, so you better get used to it." And I responded with something along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it."

Fast-forward to almost ten years later, and I've decided that having bigger boobs will "even me out" and take care of all of my lower body worries. So, I did it, without very much thought. (Now you see why I have a butterfly tramp stamp. This is how I make major life decisions.)

Did that work? Please. Absolutely not.

Does it hurt? Kind of, for a few days. And it feels weird as shit when you're getting used to having implants. There's a foreign object under your chest muscle, so the first time you do stuff like vacuum or drive IT FEELS CRAZY.

What do they feel like when you touch them? Straight up round ziploc baggies under a boob. I have felt friends' silicone implants (I have saline, which is just salt water), and those feel less ziploc-y.
How's life different afterward? Here are a few things that will change, for sure:
  • You will never enjoy sleeping on your stomach in the same way again. You can still do it, but it's never, ever the same.
  • Bras just fit weird. Either your nipples hang out, or you have a gap between your skin and the cup. True life.
  • People will ask you a lot of questions about your boobs. I clearly don't mind, but shy people, be aware.
  • You'll have to replace them every 10-ish years. It's past that time for me, but I probably won't swap mine out unless I have problems or it becomes totally necessary. I just don't care enough what they look like anymore. They're saggier now, but what am I, a boob model? (No, I am not.)
  • You might have second (and third and fourth) thoughts on your decision. It's not the early 00's anymore, and fake boobs aren't as popular as they were back in my young buck days. Plus, it didn't make me feel any better about myself, like I anticipated. I've thought about getting my implants taken out, but that's just SO MUCH work. And I'm sure I still wouldn't be happy. And I do enjoy not being married to wearing a bra.

Here's the bottom line: I really wish that I had just been okay with myself enough to not even worry about having plastic surgery in my early twenties. (I know, I know -- what a trite and annoying way to end this.) But seriously, everyone should just enjoy what they've got and work that shit. This is your damn time. On the other hand, it's your body, so just do what you want with it. If you want surgery, modifications, whatever the hell your deal is, that's cool too. Do you, baby.

Okay, I'm so over talking about myself that I can't even stand it one for second. Can we just talk about Justin Bieber? Or at least someone else's boobs?

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Monday, February 10, 2014

GUUUUUURL Of The Day: Paris Hilton's Fetus-Sized Crop Top

via pp face's instagram
Haven't you guys missed P Hilly so much? Of course not, but didn't you almost forget about her ass? Still no? Sorry. I usually treat Paris like I treat my need to go to the gym (pretend it's not there), but when homegirl shows up at a fashion show in a top from the new "Slutty Toddler B*ches Collection" she just started, you can't ignore it. Eff, I probably just gave her a new idea for a clothing line.

I'll be honest -- I really can't fault this b TOO MUCH, because I used to buy Old Navy terry cloth toddler shirts and wear them as crop tops. They were, like, a 4T. In my defense, it was the early 00s. Everything was super-disgusting back then. At least I was.

i miss myspace.
Speaking of the Hilts, I have a little bit of a backstory with her. When I was in Las Vegas one weekend, back in the Hilton sister heyday, I couldn't stop running into Paris' ass. I first saw her in Bebe (SHUT UP, IT WAS 2007), where her bodyguard handed my cousin and me signed postcard-sized head shots of PH, because we were standing within a 10 foot radius of her in her sweatpants, I guess. I then saw her later that night at a club, where she awkwardly danced in the elevated VIP section next to LL Cool J. By the time I saw PP and Nicky walking though the casino carrying cats in their arms the next day like queens of damn Sheba, I was done with that sh*t. I have enough Paris Hilton anecdotal stories to last a f*cking lifetime, thank you very much. It's still too soon for me to see her face.

And really, after writing all of this, I'm starting to question my life choices.

I need a drink. Thanks, Paris.

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