mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'm Gonna Be A Super(hair)Model" I visited my stylist Megan today at the salon for my monthly cut and color (boy this entry already reeks of pretension, hold on and I promise it will get better). I am overall not a high-maintenance girl but I take hair care kind of seriously and Megan is by far the best stylist I've ever had. The only problem with going to see her is that despite making an appointment, there is always a wait. And of course, I never plan for the wait. Every single month, I fail to remember to bring a book and so I have to choose between staring at the walls or reading the mind-numbing material available to me at the salon. So after tackling the one issue of Outside Magazine (go ahead, ask me a question about river rafting in Tibet), I was left to sort through piles of crap filled with glossy pictures of sixteen year old anorexics dressed in completely nonfunctional clothing in the hopes of finding something to fill my time. Since I abhor Cosmo, vehemently hate Elle, and am about eleven years to old to enjoy Seventeen, I resorted to selecting a magazine I'd never heard of called Lucky. In case you too missed the press conference, this rag is described as "the magazine for people who love to shop," and in case I have failed to mention it before, I hate to shop. I am still wearing my Ghostbusters T-shirt from 1984 and not because I have a strong feeling that they will be remaking the movie anyday now (starring Freddie Prinze Jr. of course). I have all of my 80's/90's clothes. I salvage everything in the hopes that it will get me through another decade and I won't be forced to enter a mall or worse, a Banana Republic. The few "newer" items in my wardrobe are actually someone else's old castoffs. I can tolerate Value Village and the Salvation Army and even a few of the ritzier consignment shops about town but the Bon Marche is a scary place for me. Thank god I am a pretty standard size and can order stuff off the internet or else I'd be wearing second hand unmentionables and that's just plain nasty. So what am I getting at here....oh yeah, Lucky is by far the stupidest magazine ever. When the hell did people begin to classify shopping as a hobby? And if it can in fact be considered a hobby, do we really need another magazine dedicated to pure consumerism? Lucky claims it's different from competitors like Vogue and In Style because it leaves out those "annoying stories about celebrities and ridiculous advice columns." For christsakes, that was the only redeeming thing about fashion rags anyway! At least those articles are funny. I mean, nothing is more hilarious than me being down at one end of Steve's Newsstand and Pete being at the other and me yelling out to him (usually over the heads of several geeks perusing the computers and technology section) "Hey cowboy, I'm studying up on the Top Ten Tips to Drive your Man Wild in Bed so you better pop that viagra now" while waving a copy of Marie Claire around. Pete sends me love back by brandishing a copy of Mens Health and letting me know that he's learning to satisfy my strongest desires while simultaneously eating pizza and watching football. Steve's patrons pretend to be engrossed in whatever is in their hands and a good time is had by all. But really, without those articles, what are we left with? Basically a bunch of ads for garbage that will be out of style before you can say "espadrille." ***A small side note: My stylist asked me to be a hair model for her when the salon gets their website up. She does a bang up job on my tresses which are pin straight with Bettie Page bangs and alternately streaked blond and red. I'll let you know when my career as a hair model takes off but for now I'm keeping my day job. 8:39 p.m. - 2002-07-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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