I really have no title for this, except Allyson Redford is ugly. What's with the pearls and the man-suits? And her hair, forget about it.
I don't think she knows if she is a man or a woman.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Banff and Marilyn Monroe
Thought of her today. Spent the day in Banff and had lunch at the Banff Springs Hotel, where she and Robert Mitchum stayed while filming "River of No Return". Saw it again the other day on TCM. A pretty dumb movie, but it was filmed in Banff. (Who knew Tommy Retig -- who played the child -- had died years earlier at age 54?)
Driving out there today, I marvelled at what a gorgeous country Canada is. The Canadian Rockies cannot be beat. I absolutely love Canada!
Of course, lunch was marred by ulgy Americans. There they sat, tractor hats on heads, bursting jeans, fat, yapping with heavy, southern accents. Why do southern accents make me think "redneck"? Two couples were sitting at separate tables, talking across to each other and annoying the rest of us who had to listen to them. Canadians are so tolerant.
But I thought of Marilyn all day. What a fabulous star she was. I remember exactly where I was when I heard she had been found dead. I was in Maine, on holiday with my family. I was 15 years old. It was shocking.
She is still the most beautiful star ever. As for Robert Mitchum, well, enough said. Gorgeous. Not sure who was more beautiful: Mitchum, William Holden or Cary Grant. No one holds a candle these days.
Driving out there today, I marvelled at what a gorgeous country Canada is. The Canadian Rockies cannot be beat. I absolutely love Canada!
Of course, lunch was marred by ulgy Americans. There they sat, tractor hats on heads, bursting jeans, fat, yapping with heavy, southern accents. Why do southern accents make me think "redneck"? Two couples were sitting at separate tables, talking across to each other and annoying the rest of us who had to listen to them. Canadians are so tolerant.
But I thought of Marilyn all day. What a fabulous star she was. I remember exactly where I was when I heard she had been found dead. I was in Maine, on holiday with my family. I was 15 years old. It was shocking.
She is still the most beautiful star ever. As for Robert Mitchum, well, enough said. Gorgeous. Not sure who was more beautiful: Mitchum, William Holden or Cary Grant. No one holds a candle these days.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Mad Women
I'm not sure which I prefer, 'Rescue me' or 'Mad Men'. But tonight, the latter is returning. I actually lived the 'Mad Men' life (or Mad Women life) when I worked for a Toronto magazine publishing empire, Maclean-Hunter, back in the late sixties/early seventies. It wasn't an ad agency per se, but it had all the elements -- advertising, copy writing, art department, publishing and "goings-on". Man, what a place!
My publisher was a wild man. Every Monday morning he would hold an editorial meeting in his large, smoke-filled office. Invariably, he had a hangover, so always brought out the scotch to get him through and bring him around. I didn't imbibe, but others did. No one cared, as long as he brought in the advertising dollars. Hell, he could have done anything he wanted; the money was there. Every Friday afternoon, after we had put the magazine "to bed", as they called it, he would drag us off to the sleaziest Yonge Street dive imaginable, where we would drink draft all afternoon and evening. It was just like 'Mad Men' -- everyone smoking and drinking all the time. And the affairs! My dear, scandalous.
But I loved it. It was a very exciting life for a young woman just out of university. Ah, memory lane, what a lovely trip.
My publisher was a wild man. Every Monday morning he would hold an editorial meeting in his large, smoke-filled office. Invariably, he had a hangover, so always brought out the scotch to get him through and bring him around. I didn't imbibe, but others did. No one cared, as long as he brought in the advertising dollars. Hell, he could have done anything he wanted; the money was there. Every Friday afternoon, after we had put the magazine "to bed", as they called it, he would drag us off to the sleaziest Yonge Street dive imaginable, where we would drink draft all afternoon and evening. It was just like 'Mad Men' -- everyone smoking and drinking all the time. And the affairs! My dear, scandalous.
But I loved it. It was a very exciting life for a young woman just out of university. Ah, memory lane, what a lovely trip.
Dinner at Tiffany's
I'm no Adurey Hepburn, but yesterday we ventured to the Chinook Centre, where there is a Tiffany's. Who wudda thunk it? A Tiffany's in Calgary? But there is a lot of money here, so there Tiffany's is. We were there at B's insistence because I am fast approaching my blank-5th birthday. How can I be blank-5!!?? Yesterday I was 35.
Tiffany's was packed. I mean, when is Tiffany's ever packed? Even in Chicago, the Tiffany's we visited had one or two people browsing. And these Chinook customers were buying VERY EXPENSIVE STUFF. I am not a believer in paying a lot for a piece of jewellery that doesn't pack a wallop. I mean, paying $15,000 for a pair of diamond, chandelier earrings I would never, ever do. I have a fake pair that cost me $25, yet have the same jazzy impact. No, that's just dumb. But if I find something unique, I will splurge.
After Tiffany's I ventured into Urban Outfitters and bought two pair of hose for $20. With an all-over floral pattern, these pink and purple stockings are fabulous. I stopped a woman on the street the other day wearing a pair and asked where she had bought them. That's how I got into Urban Outfitters and found them. I often stop strangers and ask where they bought their shoes, for instance; you thus take the short cut to successful shopping.
Then we wandered down the mall to a great restaurant and had dinner. So, that was my "Dinner at Tiffany's" evening.
p.s. The Tiffany's sales woman said to my husband, "You know your wife is a pistol, don't you." "Yes, and I'm the one who gets all the bullets," he retorted. I considered that a compliment.
Tiffany's was packed. I mean, when is Tiffany's ever packed? Even in Chicago, the Tiffany's we visited had one or two people browsing. And these Chinook customers were buying VERY EXPENSIVE STUFF. I am not a believer in paying a lot for a piece of jewellery that doesn't pack a wallop. I mean, paying $15,000 for a pair of diamond, chandelier earrings I would never, ever do. I have a fake pair that cost me $25, yet have the same jazzy impact. No, that's just dumb. But if I find something unique, I will splurge.
After Tiffany's I ventured into Urban Outfitters and bought two pair of hose for $20. With an all-over floral pattern, these pink and purple stockings are fabulous. I stopped a woman on the street the other day wearing a pair and asked where she had bought them. That's how I got into Urban Outfitters and found them. I often stop strangers and ask where they bought their shoes, for instance; you thus take the short cut to successful shopping.
Then we wandered down the mall to a great restaurant and had dinner. So, that was my "Dinner at Tiffany's" evening.
p.s. The Tiffany's sales woman said to my husband, "You know your wife is a pistol, don't you." "Yes, and I'm the one who gets all the bullets," he retorted. I considered that a compliment.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Queen
I am not sure if I have blogged about my meeting Her Majesty? I was reminded of that wondrous occasion, thanks to Denise's sending me an article about another woman who had met her. 'Sovereign Dress Crisis -- Some occasions stump even the pros', was the title of the story.
My moment came in 2006 in London. We had journeyed there for an international meeting of the Royal Commonwealth Society and as Canadian president, B had been invited to meet Elizabeth when she came to open the newly-renovated Commonwealth Club. The evening before, the London head had approached me and said, "Mrs. Marley-Clarke, it appears you and Mr. Marley-Clarke will be representing Canada tomorrow when Her Majesty opens the club." "What," I said! "Yes, indeed. Do you have a proper frock to wear?" he added. Obviously, what I was wearing was not considerer "proper" for the Queen.
"Yes, I have a proper frock," I replied. I had brought the grey silk dress and jacket I had had made by Richard Robinson for my step-daughter's wedding. It was perfect. But this was meeting The Queen. I did not have a hat. So it was off the next morning the high street to buy one.
Buying a hat in London is really an occasion. Wandering through the hat department, I met and overheard many other women trying on hats. Some were for weddings, others for fancy garden parties. "What are you buying a hat for?" one woman asked. "I have to meet The Queen," I said. "Oh my God," she shrieked. "The Queen!" Well, that was it. Ten other women gathered 'round and took charge of my hat purchase. "Darling, what is your dress like?" "Oh this would be perfect!" In the end, after trying on about a dozen, I settled on a spectacular burgundy chapeau, which would perfectly match my burgundy heels.
I didn't know it, but one cannot wear a hat if the Queen is not wearing one. Happily, she was. We had been told to arrive at 9:30 a.m., as she would be arriving at 11. Naturally, I had expected many other women to be wearing hats, but shockingly Her Nibs and I were the only ones so attired. Very strange for London, I thought. But I had to keep the hat on because as everyone knows, when you commit to a hat, you're committed. "Hat head" will not permit its removal.
We took our places in line and along she came. Very short, she has the most beautiful blue eyes and wore very pink lipstick. She was absolutely gorgeous. She stopped and looked at me. I could literally see my fanatically royalist grandma and aunts all dancing above my head as she began to speak. "You're here for the meetings, I gather," she said. "Yes Your Majesty," I replied. "Awfully useful to exchange ideas,don't you think?" she added. "Oh yes, Ma'am," I said (you only call her "Her Majesty" the first time, after that it's "ma'am", pronounced "mom"). I was tempted to say "especially if you are on the receiving end of mine," but I didn't. Instead I said, "I have certainly learned a lot." She smiled and as she moved off I added, "And I thought I knew everything." She turned back and actually guffawed. It was perfect. I had coaxed a real laugh out of her. She noted, "It happens, believe me, it happens." And then she was gone.
I had had a glimpse of the real woman inside The Formal Queen. She knows of what she speaks because, of course, everyone she meets actually does think they know everything. She sees and puts up with it all the time.
Ater she left there was a charming reception, during which an elderly gentleman came up to me and said, "My dear, The Queen's hat was lovely, but yours is a cracker!" What a moment.
When we left, I had to cart this enormous hat box onto the plane. Standing in line at Heathrow, the ticket agent said I would have to check it. I said, "This hat met The Queen and I would hate to have anything happen to it." "Met The Queen," she said. "Girls, look, this hat met the Queen. Take it out and try it on. So there I was, holding up the entire line, while I put on the hat. What a palaver! But it did result in my hat being taken aboard the plane and stored with the crew's belongings.
So that's the story and me, the hat and The Queen.
My moment came in 2006 in London. We had journeyed there for an international meeting of the Royal Commonwealth Society and as Canadian president, B had been invited to meet Elizabeth when she came to open the newly-renovated Commonwealth Club. The evening before, the London head had approached me and said, "Mrs. Marley-Clarke, it appears you and Mr. Marley-Clarke will be representing Canada tomorrow when Her Majesty opens the club." "What," I said! "Yes, indeed. Do you have a proper frock to wear?" he added. Obviously, what I was wearing was not considerer "proper" for the Queen.
"Yes, I have a proper frock," I replied. I had brought the grey silk dress and jacket I had had made by Richard Robinson for my step-daughter's wedding. It was perfect. But this was meeting The Queen. I did not have a hat. So it was off the next morning the high street to buy one.
Buying a hat in London is really an occasion. Wandering through the hat department, I met and overheard many other women trying on hats. Some were for weddings, others for fancy garden parties. "What are you buying a hat for?" one woman asked. "I have to meet The Queen," I said. "Oh my God," she shrieked. "The Queen!" Well, that was it. Ten other women gathered 'round and took charge of my hat purchase. "Darling, what is your dress like?" "Oh this would be perfect!" In the end, after trying on about a dozen, I settled on a spectacular burgundy chapeau, which would perfectly match my burgundy heels.
I didn't know it, but one cannot wear a hat if the Queen is not wearing one. Happily, she was. We had been told to arrive at 9:30 a.m., as she would be arriving at 11. Naturally, I had expected many other women to be wearing hats, but shockingly Her Nibs and I were the only ones so attired. Very strange for London, I thought. But I had to keep the hat on because as everyone knows, when you commit to a hat, you're committed. "Hat head" will not permit its removal.
We took our places in line and along she came. Very short, she has the most beautiful blue eyes and wore very pink lipstick. She was absolutely gorgeous. She stopped and looked at me. I could literally see my fanatically royalist grandma and aunts all dancing above my head as she began to speak. "You're here for the meetings, I gather," she said. "Yes Your Majesty," I replied. "Awfully useful to exchange ideas,don't you think?" she added. "Oh yes, Ma'am," I said (you only call her "Her Majesty" the first time, after that it's "ma'am", pronounced "mom"). I was tempted to say "especially if you are on the receiving end of mine," but I didn't. Instead I said, "I have certainly learned a lot." She smiled and as she moved off I added, "And I thought I knew everything." She turned back and actually guffawed. It was perfect. I had coaxed a real laugh out of her. She noted, "It happens, believe me, it happens." And then she was gone.
I had had a glimpse of the real woman inside The Formal Queen. She knows of what she speaks because, of course, everyone she meets actually does think they know everything. She sees and puts up with it all the time.
Ater she left there was a charming reception, during which an elderly gentleman came up to me and said, "My dear, The Queen's hat was lovely, but yours is a cracker!" What a moment.
When we left, I had to cart this enormous hat box onto the plane. Standing in line at Heathrow, the ticket agent said I would have to check it. I said, "This hat met The Queen and I would hate to have anything happen to it." "Met The Queen," she said. "Girls, look, this hat met the Queen. Take it out and try it on. So there I was, holding up the entire line, while I put on the hat. What a palaver! But it did result in my hat being taken aboard the plane and stored with the crew's belongings.
So that's the story and me, the hat and The Queen.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Some swims are better than others
This morning at the pool, I shared the lane with a man in his forties who was doing his sets, reading his lap requirements after every couple of laps and being very serious indeed. Warming up, I was not that fast, so he made the usual assumption that I was an old broad he would just have to annoyingly swim around. Until I got to my fast laps. I let him go ahead a half-pool length and then started out. But soon on his heels, I overtook him and we finished neck and neck at the other end. But could he bring himself to let me go ahead? Not on your life, just could not give way. Off he shoved and tried to get away from me, but again, I passed him and finished way ahead at the other end.
"Oh, sorry about that," he said. "I didn't see you." Please. You just could not bear to have an older woman beat you. After that he was careful, but clearly irritated. I, on the other hand, was grateful because he made me swim faster than I usually do. One of the cute female lifeguards, who loves to chat, came over and said, "Boy, you really cleaned him, good for you." Score one for the old broads.
As he got out of the pool, he voiced his displeasure by saying, "Well, I'm done, so you can have it all to yourself." "Great, thanks," I smiled in reply. The funniest part is how patronizing he had been when I first joined him in the lane. We exchanged pleasantries and he said, "You're certainly better than 98% of people your age, coming out to swim regularly." "I try," I replied. And off he confidently swam.
I have to admit, it is gratifying to be getting better and giving some of the younger men pause -- however rarely. They take so much for granted and make so many assumptions about women of a certain age. As I said, some swims are better than others.
"Oh, sorry about that," he said. "I didn't see you." Please. You just could not bear to have an older woman beat you. After that he was careful, but clearly irritated. I, on the other hand, was grateful because he made me swim faster than I usually do. One of the cute female lifeguards, who loves to chat, came over and said, "Boy, you really cleaned him, good for you." Score one for the old broads.
As he got out of the pool, he voiced his displeasure by saying, "Well, I'm done, so you can have it all to yourself." "Great, thanks," I smiled in reply. The funniest part is how patronizing he had been when I first joined him in the lane. We exchanged pleasantries and he said, "You're certainly better than 98% of people your age, coming out to swim regularly." "I try," I replied. And off he confidently swam.
I have to admit, it is gratifying to be getting better and giving some of the younger men pause -- however rarely. They take so much for granted and make so many assumptions about women of a certain age. As I said, some swims are better than others.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Yes, we know.....
Why is it that some people who have done a triathlon have to broadcast it via their attire. Swimming beside one such chap this morning, I wanted to say, "Yes, we know, you did a tri, good for you." He was actually in his gear, sporting a red bathing cap, complete with #91 on the side. Gamely, he raced through one lap, but then had to stop, catch his breath, put on his specs and read his next set. It was hilarious. Too bad he also thought wearing a hideous speedo was appropriate. Why do 60-year-old men have to sport speedos? Come to think of it, why does any man wear a speedo? They are grotesque and disconcerting. It would be like me wearing a bikini. Help!
Reminded me of when we went to Hawaii a few years ago for an international meet. Days before the event, participants were seen lounging about in cafes and restaurants...wait for it...in their racing gear! Oh, the "scene" is irrepressible.
Reminded me of when we went to Hawaii a few years ago for an international meet. Days before the event, participants were seen lounging about in cafes and restaurants...wait for it...in their racing gear! Oh, the "scene" is irrepressible.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Corinna, Corinna
As I walked out of the locker room this morning, wearing only my bathing suit under my coat, the custodian said, "Finished already?" "No, "I said, "I forgot my bathing cap and goggles, so I have to go home." I was not about to get all dressed again and had just put on my outerwear. As I flashed this ridiculous outfit, a young woman nearby burst out laughing. "You're going out like that in this snowstorm?" I was, but she said, "Here, you can borrow mine," and handed over her cap and goggles.
How very sweet. I introduced myself and learned her name was "Corinna". I thought of the song and asked if she were old enough to know it; she was. "But a lot of people call me 'Corona'!" On this blustery day, I enjoyed the thought of a warm, Mexican beach the word "Corona" conjured up.
So, that's the second time here in Calgary I have paraded around in the public thoroughfare in a preposterous outfit.
How very sweet. I introduced myself and learned her name was "Corinna". I thought of the song and asked if she were old enough to know it; she was. "But a lot of people call me 'Corona'!" On this blustery day, I enjoyed the thought of a warm, Mexican beach the word "Corona" conjured up.
So, that's the second time here in Calgary I have paraded around in the public thoroughfare in a preposterous outfit.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Cowboy boots
The last time I bought a pair of cowboy boots was in Minot, North Dakota, in 1968. They were Acme boots and very ordinary; suede and leather. I loved and wore them everywhere. Afterall, in Ottawa you could not buy a pair of authentic cowboy boots, so mine were the real deal.
Today at lunch at The Ranchmen's Club I chatted with a guy wearing a pair of brown, python cowboy boots and I drifted back. My step-daughter took over my old Acme boots and I never saw them again. But this guy's boots and Calgary itself have me determined to get another pair. He told me they make a last for your feet and you get custom boots. Perfect.
Alberta Boots on Macleod Trail, here I come.
Today at lunch at The Ranchmen's Club I chatted with a guy wearing a pair of brown, python cowboy boots and I drifted back. My step-daughter took over my old Acme boots and I never saw them again. But this guy's boots and Calgary itself have me determined to get another pair. He told me they make a last for your feet and you get custom boots. Perfect.
Alberta Boots on Macleod Trail, here I come.
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