why gg is much more than just hot teenagers making out and plotting against each other

I adore Gossip Girl.

Although I usually can't relate to the lifestyles of the privileged, teenaged, Upper East Siders, nor to the drama that unfolds within them, I get a great deal of pleasure out of watching the show. I usually curl up next to my laptop with a sliced apple and some melted peanut butter (for dipping) and enjoy the 40 minutes of fictional drama.

I particularly loved last night's episode, titled Pret-a-Poor-J. One of the plot lines followed 15-year-old Jenny Humphrey as she began to shmooze with models, creepy Cobrasnake-esque photographers, Cory Kennedy look-alikes, and the Nylon extended social circle. Without giving away too much of the plot, I found it really interesting how the show reflected the way our photo-obsessed generation is gradually beginning to function.

The best advertisement—be it for fashion or just the self-promotion of one's party persona—is being visible, whether it be in attendance of parties, or mediated through social networking arenas or the site of one party photographer or another.

Despite being guilty of chronically photographing others, I still believe that there should be limits to how many photos are taken, and in what context. Most importantly, they should be taken with the permission of the subject or, you know, of her parents if she's underage and topless. I think the issues that were raised in yesterday's episode were very relevant for a large part of its viewership: girls in their teens, surrounded by cameras as they are.

I appreciate Gossip Girl's efforts to stay current, and to incorporate witty pop culture references, new and emerging uses of technology, and aspects of contemporary youth culture that are unique to right now. In this way, it's as much a period piece about aspects of our generation as Mad Men is of the advertising world in the '60s . And it's really just fun to watch.

ageless beauty

Last weekend I experienced my first family wedding. Our entire extended family was excited for months leading up to the big day. So much so that we had a big sleepover the night before so that we could all have breakfast and get ready together the day of.

I spent the morning of the wedding doing what I do before every major formal event: everyone else's hair and makeup. For some reason people expect me to be stressed out by this, but I continually tell them that in these moments I am in my glory. Beautifying others is far more exciting than putting the same colours on my same boring face, after all. My aunt Lena (whose house we were at) kept saying, "make sure you leave time for yourself!" and I reminded her that on the day of my own prom I did hair and makeup for 7 other people before my own.

I am so excited for the getting ready part of the day that I drift off to sleep visualizing which colour eye shadows, and which style of updo or curls I will choose for each person. In fact, when I'm at the gym, I distract myself from the tasks at hand (mostly running on the treadmill is when I'm most bored) by carefully visualizing outfits, makeup application techniques etc. Then, when I have an event to dress up for, I am totally, creatively prepared.

A few weeks ago, as a favour for my friend Amy, I did prom makeup for her little sister and a friend. I was shocked to realize that these girls had no idea what kind of look they wanted, what colours they preferred, or even celebrity fashion influences (to give me an idea of their own taste). Amy's sister's friend just stared at me blankly when I asked her any questions about her preferences, or whether she wanted a natural or dramatic look. I guess their nonchalance surprised me because I am SO certain about what I want and love and/or hate, that I would never let someone do my makeup unless we had discussed the look in depth. But I guess not everyone is a psycho when it comes to makeup.

Amy somehow finagled me into going to the pre-prom party to take photos, wherein I was the awkward stranger with the camera, but Amy's family seemed to appreciate it. Apart from being rather uncomfortable, the experience allowed me to check out what "kids" are wearing to prom these days. This was Oakville, so the dresses were all pretty high-end. Almost all of them were cocktail length, which was pretty cute actually. It looked young and fresh and fun.

Standing in the line of parents (beside Amy, who was yelling at girls to put down their coolers and Coronas for the photos: "you just look tacky!"), I began to feel the gulf of 6 years since I graduated high school.

At this past weekend's wedding, however, I looked at age very differently. I had as much fun ordering Shirley Temples at the bar with my 14-year-old cousin as I did drinking rye on the rocks with my brothers, snacking on wedding cake with my parents, and sipping white wine with my grandma and great aunt.

Speaking of the latter two ladies, both of them are so gorgeous and classy. My grammie, with her southern-influenced sassiness and penchant for bright colours; and Joyce ,who has my dream job working for a specialty chocolate company and about the best fashion sense of anyone I know, are both an inspiration to me. I would love to work towards having their sophistication.

We so often associate beauty with youth, with an unlined face and a taut body. At 25, I even feel my own anxiety sneaking up on my sometimes, in regards to my skin or my figure. But instead of worrying about moving away from my youth, I would like to think about what I am moving towards, and what kind of woman I would like to become. With role models like my older family members, it's exciting to realize that personal style only improves with age.

no move so fast

An elderly eastern-European lady slowly pushes her walker and its basket full of groceries down the ramp out of the grocery store. A woman in her mid-twenties who is rushing into the store bumps the lady and nearly knocks over her groceries.

"I am so sorry, Ma'am," says the girl, "I really didn't mean to do that. I lost my balance."

The older lady just laughs and says, "Oh you don't worry. You vill get in there in time. You no move so fast to get there. Belief me, you vill be there before you know!"
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Homecoming weekend approached, was awesome, and passed in the blink of an eye, as did the year in between this weekend and the last time I went "home" to Western. Peoples' haircuts are different or exactly the same, peoples' careers are starting or are eluding them, and peoples' flip-cup skills are still up to par.

Whatever people may say about Western, it certainly has fostered a sense of community that endures far beyond graduation day.

parallel lives

One of my closest childhood friends is now a mama. She just had a baby girl. A baby. I haven't seen this friend in years, but a new baby (and her new state as a mom) seems to be a damn good reason to plan a visit.

I just find it weird and wonderful how two women who grew up together--she and I--can be at such different places in our lives right now. I vividly remember building cardboard maze haunted houses for the neighbourhood, reading Sweet Valley Twins books, and watching YTV's Are You Afraid of the Dark together. Then I moved away from our shared neighbourhood, and we both went through our respective adolescences (very different ones for that matter). Jump to now, maybe 8 years since I've seen her, when she has a baby. And a husband. And a house.

And this is so weird and fantastic. Time shapes things so quickly. I keep wondering how I went so quickly from 16 to 24. How things went from me doing her makeup for her first modelling headshots, and listening to stories of her life that was so different even then from my life, to me wondering how she was getting along, to me having my fingers crossed for her, to me hearing that she giving public speeches to at-risk youth and urging them not to take the same paths she did, to me hearing she was doing so much better than before, to now...when she has a baby.

And I (at least immediately) have reading to do, a disc of episodes of Ghost Whisperer to watch, and more photo shoots lined up. Oh, and a post-grad school future to plan.

Series of events like this certainly stand as gauges for the sneaking passage of time. But what a scary and nerve-wracking and yet fantastic time this is, for both of us.

glorious youth & grumpy old men

The sight of carmelized maple syrup poured over snow instantly reminds me of February at Mill Pond: grabbing handfulls of the sticky, amber-coloured treat out of the snow and skating away gleefully. The taste today, at the Festival Montreal en Lumiere was exactly the same as maple candy of days past. All I was missing today, were the skates...and the fluorescent purple, pink and green snowsuit. Ah, those were the days.

Today didn't start off as well as I would have liked. The morning was bright, and I had big plans to make lasagne for Oscar night. I run to the store, to grab all the last minute ingredients, and realize I've forgotten to put my wallet back in my purse. Since our apartment keys are actually electronic cards, mine is in my forgotten wallet and I am stuck outside without a key. Brian can't get the door to unlock via buzz-engage, so I stand in the foyer, watching a man glare at me scornfully from inside the lobby. I wave to him, smile, and motion to ask if he could walk on the mat to engage the automatic door. He does so, but before I can open my mouth to thank him he snaps,

"Do you live here?"
"Yes I do, I just forgot my key in my wallet upstairs and--"
"You know that door is there for security, right? To keep people out."
"Well yes, and I appreciate that, because I live here. Listen, thanks for letting me in."
"Hah. Well, just so you know, I'm not your doorman!"
"Pardon me?"
"I shouldn't have let you in. If you live here, you should have your key. I'm not the doorman, you know!"
"Sir, no offense, but this is the first time I have ever forgotten my key, and I simply asked you a small favour."
"Hah. Whatever. I'm just saying it's not up to me to let you in."
"Yes and you've made that very clear."
"You might not even live here, and you shouldn't burden other people to open the door."
"Well, I'm sorry to have troubled you so greatly."
I walk over to the elevator and push the button.
"It's not an issue of a favour, it's an issue of security!"
"Are you kidding? I'm going to get my wallet so I can buy groceries!"
I'm still waiting for the elevator. It's moving slowly since only one is in service. This man refuses to drop it.
"Hah, you'll be there for a while. Only one elevator works."
"Yeah,I know. As I mentioned, I live here."
Ding. Finally the elevator arrives.

I get my wallet and my keys, and go back down. He's still sitting in the lobby, glaring at me once again. After I return with my groceries, it's the same special treatment. Both times I wave my key pointedly at him. The second time I shake my grocery bags. Immature? Maybe. The jerk left me no choice! Talk about security-obsessed times. Yes, there is evidence of this at the national level, but waves of security-related anxiety reveal themselves at the micro level as well. Was it the dark circles of sleep deprivation under my eyes that made me seem "threatening" to this man, or did I seem just too average to be trustworthy? After all, enemies and spies can be anywhere, n'est pas? Mini McCarthyism lives in shifty-eyed mizers like my friend in the lobby.

What happened to jolly old men, anyway? Not too long ago my friend Lindsay and I were eating sundaes at McDonalds and an old man threw a quarter at Lindsay and yelled,
"Why don't ya get yourself some new pants?!"
When she slid the quarter back down the counter to him, saying "No thanks," he threw it back at her, bellowing that he meant it, and that she better get some new jeans.
What happened to manners? Is age a priviledge to be disdainful to the young?

Maybe all the kindly old people are too busy lawn bowling or knitting to make it their mission to ruin peoples' days. Ever since I could write, I have always written down notes to myself in the future: A list of things grown-ups say and do that, in the eyes of kids, suck. I wrote/write them down in case I forget, as so many people seem to do as they age, how to connect with those younger than us.

For example:
1) Asking a niece/nephew, friend of the family's child, kid you babysit "So, how's school?" is pretty much the worst/most boring/annoying question to ask a kid. Kids go to school because they have to. They enjoy recess, playtime, the odd art or science project, and their friends. They do not know how to or care to respond when you ask them about "school."

2)Reminiscing about the glory days/hinting at a bleak future. Every single time an older adult has told me "Better enjoy this. These are the best years of your life." This phrase is depressing, vague, and almost always a sequeway into tales of their own youth. Also, a pre-teen who is at the height of her awkward stage does not want to hear that her hormone-dominated existence is the best life will offer her. This would not be fun.

3)Treating anyone younger than you as though they were of a different species. Kids, teens, and young adults all respond to being treated with respect. If you speak to them as though they are less intelligent than you, even if they are 4 years old, they will think you are a douche. If you respect them, they will love ya!

And on that note, off to bed for beauty sleep! Some photos from the festival: