The Side Effects of Boyfriends Working Late

or, The Foam Roller Experiment Part I.



Perhaps I need to develop my technique.

In which I explore ways to avoid bathing.

Maybe I'm becoming slovenly. I doubt it, really, but I sure don't feel like washing my hair today. Blame laziness, fading haircolor, and water conservation efforts. So, I'm explored two solutions to the greasy flatness of not shampooing:

1: The Up Do. Yesterday -- post-Crow, pre-ballet -- Melissa and I talked about long hair: growing it, styling it, layers, waves, ponytails, braids, pros and cons. I was mostly complaining about the lack of style, the imperfect layers, and fading color, and she asked if I ever wore it up. Nope. But this morning, since I couldn't think of a good reason why not to, I got out the bobby pins and Air Control.

Not wearing it up doesn't mean I haven't experimented in the privacy of my own home. I know from a traumatic adolescent realization that low ponytails make me look like my aunt Zoe if she were an overweight nun, while pulling my hair high to the crown of my head and giving it a little height hints that I may actually have cheekbones.

But plain ponytails are for the gym, in my opinion, so I pulled the top half high, and teased the right side to even out a cowlick on the left, and pinned in place. Since I hear buns are librarian-chic right now, I swirled the rest around on itself, pinned and hairsprayed furiously, and went in to show Brian. "Look!" I said, and he replied, "Oooh, yes. New jeans?"

The do looked a good mix of polished and careless. It stayed in place while I walked to U Village, picked up ingredients for Vietnamese fresh rolls for tonight, and shopped for under-eye concealer (uug) and my next solution:

2: Dry Shampoo. I usually love the way my hair looks the day after washing -- until about 10 am, when the greasies cross the fine line between keeping frizzies under control to clumping into day-old emo-looking roots. So while I'm skeptical that a white chemically powder can really make my hair look great, I'm also a willing consumer. So when my search for a decent concealer began to bottom out, and I overheard one of the rare helpful Sephora SAs talking to another lady about dry shampoos, I decided to jump on the bandwagon.

In your hand, a powdery drop of Oscar Blandi dry shampoo feels silky, and when rubbed in disappeared except for a slight film -- something like soap residue. It was easier to use than I'd expected. I puffed a spot onto my hand, then rubbed into the roots with my fingertips. It disappeared, taking the greasy shine with it.

Even when I puffed it directly into my roots, it blended in completely. Definitely not as finicky a product as I'd have guessed -- despite being the kind of magical treatment that would be tempting to apply a ton of, I think it'd actually be kinda hard to apply noticeably too much.

The smell is OK. Brian gave it a sniff and seemed uninterested but unoffended, which is just fine for a shampoo, as far as I'm concerned. My hair definitely does not feel clean -- if anything, it feels more gunked up now that I imagine it coated with a greasy-powerdy paste. But it actually looks pretty great -- just like it does in those few magical moments between over-washed frizzy and unwashed-greasy.

I like Who What Wear, and I've been checking it long enough to know they pull out some ridiculous, beyond-trendy recommendations (one-piece neon jump-suit with chest ruffles? Mary Kate and Ashley obsession?) But this collage of jeweled crowns has to be my fave bad idea in a while. Not headbands, of which I am a fan, but crowns. Apparently this means a stripe of spangles strapped around the whole head, over the hair a la cheap '70s hippie costume. I'm not sure if it's more Studio 54 or Sanrio, but I am sure that as much as I like a lazy, unwashed hair solution and sparkles, I won't be who-what-wearing it any time soon.

Vancouver is excellent. I was quite tired of work by the end of last week, and I think the fancy times up here with Brian this weekend, plus the work-related medium-fancy times of the conference the next couple days will be a perfect little break.

Lots of walking around and eating out with Brian. A very disjointed drive up Saturday (stops for UPS, coffee, gas, bagels, lunch with Caitie, waiting at the boarder), then we explored a little, then had excellent tasty dinner + drinks at some bistro between on the cusp of the sketchy neighborhood.

Sunday: breakfast of perfectly almost-over-toasted French toast, then a shoe-buying expedition, then the newly-remodeled aquarium and a drive through the park.

It was chilly, but stayed dry until we found the craft commune of Granville Island -- drizzly is not good for tourism. We forced ourselves to walk through the little village of arts and nicknacks until early dinner. Excellent bread and Canadian peach cider, good crab cake to start, but some kind of weird bits in one of my scallops that I may never get over. If this city has ruined scallops for me, I firmly take back my "Vancouver is excellent."

Today, Pookie left at 8ish, so I got ready for a big day of no plans. Realized I left accidentally sent my umbrella home in the car, so went out and bought a new (and better) one at some drug store. Certainly, in Canada I've heard more sales rep and cashier people with clear recently-immigrated accents than I've ever heard ever in the states.

Tried shopping, but nothing peaked my interest until ... Zara. What a mecca! Everything beautiful! How have I spent years shopping and never seen this place? Everything gorgeous but reasonably priced, trendy but not cheapo, good quality, decent fit. Had to visit the fitting room twice to try everything on. And, wonderfully, went out today thinking of a trench coat, and came back with a perfect one. Love a belted waist and a big collar. Somehow, though, managed moderation and only bought three things: that coat, dark work pants, and a little black casual dress. Has bows at the waist. Possibly I'll be drawn back in for some shoes before I leave -- there were some amazing ones, if only they have my size ...

The Vancouver Art Gallery coat check lady was one of the rudest service people I've ever encountered, and we barely spoke. I can only guess she was jealous of my fabulous hair. The building is lovely -- very nice to see how a piece of classical architecture fits seamlessly in a very modern-architecture city. Some video installation, some tree stuff, much pictorialism that I looked through diligently without being moved. Was worth $15 because I had nothing better to do and it could be considered a donation toward Art.

Finally it was time for some work-related mingling. Flatironed my hair, then went cashless to the foyer on the third floor, where I clinged to the first group of approachable ladies I saw, until I heard the bar was accepting debit cards. Got me a G+T, then clumped with UW advisers till someone suggested we head to the hotel bar. Had another couple rounds and talked about college-related stuff there till someone suggested we go to bed. Now here I am. Typing way past my bedtime.

Success at Vain yesterday!

In the excitement of walking downtown during the middle of the work day, I passed a lot full of trailers that apparently belong to a Jennifer Aniston movie being filmed at the Market. According to the Seattle Times, the movie's "about a self-help guru who comes to Seattle for a workshop and meets a florist played by Aniston." Oooh. Well. I'm sure her hair will look nice.

Maybe as nice as mine!

Melissa's recommendation for Jennifer C at Vain was excellent. The lady was friendly and far less fake than the haircolors going on at that place (apparently spring is the time for neon for Seattle's hipsters). She asked plenty of questions so there was no confusion over what I wanted. Despite Melissa's horror stories of waiting forever multiple times a the salon, my appointment started right on time.

My only real issue is a reoccurring one: how much to tip. If I'm already paying $160 for two hours of (albeit very good) service, and I'm fairly confidant most of that money is going to the stylist, do I really need to tip 20%? I hope not, because I never do. But even 10% boosts my bill almost $20! By the time I'm signing for the total, I could have funded another 6 years of bottle-black dye from Bartells. But every other moment except this, I'm glad I got past that flat black curtain of boring.

Uff. Such a tough life.

The white light of 7am and the spray of pastel blossoms across the south side of the street made this morning look like snow. Fortunately, temperatures were warmer, and I was comfortably warm as I walked up the block to miss my second bus of the morning.

After watching the 6:30 #31 race by at 6:27, I decided to screw my second-to-last spinning class of the quarter (OK because I'm taking it again in Spring) and got ready at home. It's weird to put on makeup alone in a bathroom now -- on weekends and my rare skipped workout day, I vaguely miss my weekday mornings surrounded by gym ladies. And of course the bright fluorescence and big mirrors of the IMA; it's hard to tell what color lipstick I'm putting on in our windowless bathroom with uneven lighting and smudgy mirrors.

Getting a haircut and color today! Very excited to do something darker. These blond splotches are not me. Hopefully Melissa's recommendation of Jennifer Cassidy at Vain will pay off -- her cut turned out well, but she had no experience with her doing color.

It's not 7:48. If I leave now, I may actually make this bus.