older man candy

"Hands!" the sous chef Mike says as he drops a dish into the window. This is how the kitchen staff informs us they've got a hot plate of food ready.

"Table?" I say.

"Table 13, Bar. Thanks, Kitty."

I squeeze between guests who are packed two-deep at the bar. It's difficult to discern bar seat numbers when it's busy like this, so I count each bar patron's head until I reach the number 13, two older gentleman in suits, talking intently over glasses of red wine.

"Skirt steak?" I say, hesitantly, hoping I've made it to the right spot. The dark haired gentleman on the right gives a slight nod, but I'm not certain he's nodding at me, so I repeat myself as I begin to lower the dish onto the bar between them. "This is the skirt steak, medium rare?"

"Yes," the dark-haired man says gruffly as though I am a bother. Then he turns around, we lock eyes, and he smiles. "Yes, thank you very much."

"You're very welcome," I say, and turn to leave. He stares at me as I walk away.

Yeesh, I think, that guy is totally old enough to be my father. But then, this is a trend I've noticed since I cut my hair short and started curling it 1950's style with rollers. This hair-do is like older man candy.

Maybe it's because the hair-do reminds these gents of the girls they chased in their youth? Or of the way their first wives looked when they fell in love? In any event, for any of you girls out there looking to snag an older man, I'd highly recommend copying my current 'do, designed to imitate this inimitable lady right here.

BLONDE DISPATCHES: The Anti-Marilyn and the Pitfalls of Being Blonde

by TommyGirl

Sometimes I forget that I have blonde hair. That's because I've spent most of my pre-adult and adult life trying to make others ignore that fact. I've always been aware that people pre-judge me based on how I look. And every time I meet a new person I know I have to overcome their unfair expectations. No, I'm not high maintenance; I live in jeans and Chucks. No, I don't work out all the time and eat celery and rice cakes; in fact I hate the gym and eat lots of meat. No, I never cheered for sports other than when I watch my favorite football team. No thank you, I don't want a cocktail, I want a beer (and I don't want a glass for it).

I had college professors who were guilty of assigning me some societal role based on how I look. One told me that he was sure I had been a cheerleader in high school. Another said to me that I "looked like the girl who dates the quarterback." Who were they to say these things to me without knowing anything but my name and student ID number? Should I have said to them, "you look like the guy who jacks off to pre-teen internet porn every night?" Or, "you look like someone who used to be thin and now your self-loathing causes you to be unfair to the pretty girls in your class?"

The fact is, I went to a super nerdy high school that didn't even have a football team. I had an appropriate level of angst, loved rock music, played sports, and generally didn't pay much attention to my hair. Unfortunately, when I got to college I discovered I was woefully unprepared to navigate the complex social hierarchy. The girls were so unfriendly to me and I had no idea why. My mom's words echoed in my head, "They're just jealous." But I couldn't believe that they would be jealous of me. I had no style. I was clumsy, loud, and socially retarded. Truly, big boobs and blonde hair will make girls come to some stupid conclusions.

As I've gotten older, I have come to embrace my blonde hair. I don't fight it anymore. When girls meet me now, I am aware the wheels in their heads are already turning. I greet them with a big smile and a loud hello. And I burp and cuss and let my Tommy Boy sense of humor show through until they know I am not just a bubbly babe masking a cruel penchant for gossip. I think Cameron Diaz kind of saved me. When she burst onto the movie scene and became a sex symbol for embodying the anti-Marilyn, I knew I was going to be OK. I love Marilyn. I'm just so not her. Cameron briefly abandoned me for a brunette phase. I'm so thankful she came back.

Living in a society that values blondes as sex symbols and not much else forced me to rebel against the stereotype. I'm glad I have blonde hair. I think it's made me develop my personality and figure out who I am. And it has most definitely gotten me into a few concerts and out of a few speeding tickets.

TommyGirl lives, works, and defies blonde stereotypes by drinking beer and cussing in the Northeast.

are you a jackie or a marilyn?

This question has been on my mind ever since this episode of Mad Men ran a few weeks ago (click through and watch the clip and know why this show is so amazing.)

The part of the clip that keeps running through my mind is Don's pitch, when he says, "Jacqueline Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe. Women have feelings about these women because men do. Because we want both, they want to be both. It's about how they want to be seen by us: their husbands, their boyfriends, their friends' husbands."

As a women going about the business of her life in this postmodern, post-Women's Movement era, I bristle at that statement: "I'm sorry, I dress, primp, and coif for me, not for men."

Or do I? My most recent hair color & style choice is decidedly in imitation of you know who. And I completely identified with Blonde Correspondent Tolly M.'s mixed feelings about being oversexualized as a blonde, and undersexualized (but taken seriously) as a brunette. And this makes me feel feminist guilt.


Amy Klein said it well in her recent "Modern Love" piece for the New York Times magazine, describing her slight disappointment when, after several years of harassment, her cyberstalker finally left her alone:

"When you are young and pretty, nothing outrages you more than unwanted, persistent attention. You want to be taken seriously. But as you get older, and people start to ignore your looks and actually do begin to take you seriously as a professional, you feel like yesterday's news."


Then again, I'm the kind of girl who always wants what I haven't got.

(borrowed) blonde wisdom

It’s better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone.
- Marilyn Monroe











Caustic Blonde posted this little pic and quote on her blog last week, and it got me thinking about solitude and independence. I'll be ruminating on and writing about it this week. Check back for this blonde's thoughts on another blonde's wisdom.

summer reading

Yes, just a little light beach reading.

Our girl appears to be reading Ulysses.

***Special thanks to PH for sending this pic my way!***

marilyn moments

What's Marilyn doing in the bathroom at Green Street?

This is one of the only photos I've ever seen of her looking like a real lady, roots and misbehaving hair all.

We all have the moments, I guess.

Happy Birthday Norma Jean!

My favorite blonde would have celebrated her 82nd birthday yesterday and I completely missed it because I was too busy drinking pink wine 'til all hours of the morning at Eastern Standard.

Incidentally, the reason I've been drinking pink wine is because I'm working on a story about it for the Second Glass. But that's just me turning a recent obsession into a productive tax-time write off. I've loved rose since I realized that it's different from blush wine, but for some reason since the weather turned warm this year I've been obsessed.

And every time I reach for a glass of the stuff I imagine that I'm living in a world where the color scheme of this video clip is the backdrop. A pink set. A pink dress. I care less about the 20 or so men in the background sporting tuxedos. I am far more pleased by the idea of feeling as though you are hanging out inside a big pink cupcake.

I'll bake some in memoriam and honor for you tomorrow, Norma Jean. Happy Birthday!

thoughts on other soulless industries...

...from my favorite blonde:

Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.
- Marilyn Monroe

Madonna, maybe, but Lindsay Lohan?

Just last night at Toro I was explaining the New York magazine-Lindsay Lohan situation to my friend/Toro wine director Courtney. She, too, was appalled at NY Mag's horrible choice of a subject for the naked-Marilyn photo-shoot-remake.

"I mean, it would be one thing if they chose Madonna for a shoot like that. But Lindsay Lohan? Please!" Courtney said. I nodded emphatically. We both agreed: only Madonna would be iconic enough to stand in at such a photographic event.

And then just today I came across this article on BBC News. Guess we aren't the only ones who felt that way...

NY Magazine, you should be ashamed...

...for trying to pass off a two-bit celebrity like Lindsay Lohan as Marilyn Monroe.

It just offends me, for the following reasons:

1. Lindsay Lohan is about as far a cry as you can come from the Grand Dame of blonde bombshells. She is famous for starring in lame remakes like The Parent Trap and Herbie: Fully Loaded, being busted for fabulously messy DUI's, and spending more time in rehab than most bonafide adult alcoholics. Marilyn is famous for being indescribably sensual, a comedic genius, and embodying a je ne sais quoi that is leaps and bounds beyond anything Ms. Lohan represents.

2. Lohan does not even make a good blonde. She's a much better redhead or sultry brunette. As a blonde? She looks washed out and weird. A hot Ann Margaret look-alike maybe, but Marilyn? Please.

3. The Lohan shoot parodies Monroe's final photo-shoot before her tragic, untimely death at age 36. Show some respect, NY Magazine. I get that you needed to feature someone impossibly young here, so the 21-years-old thing doesn't bother me nearly as much as your choice of such a mediocre subject. At the very least you could have used a blonde worth her artistic salt for such a shoot, like actress Scarlett Johanssen. Instead, you settled for a mediocre actress who hasn't done a single interesting film in her adult life (Mean Girls aside, for it was essential a teen movie), famous simply for being famous.

I repeat, you should be ashamed, NY Magazine. This is false blonde prophecy.

dressing for the wedding

Tonight, one of my closest girlfriends is getting married. It is a black tie affair. It is being held at the Taj. It will undoubtedly be one of the fanciest events I've ever attended. And I am beside myself with excitement.

But who knew gala affairs required so much preparation? Between choosing the perfect dress, getting nails and hair done, figuring out shoes, make-up, jewelry, a purse, and a shawl I feel like I've been mentally preparing for this night for months. I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like to plan the event from soup to nuts! It must have been like taking on a second job. I'm so glad the bride & groom have a nice long honey-moon awaiting them, starting tomorrow morning.

When I first began conceptualizing an outfit for the evening I wanted to go for something different: a fun, lively, evening gown with lots of sequins and shiny stuff on it in some bright, exciting hue, like mauve or cerulean. I ended up with the exact opposite: I walked out of the department store 20 minutes after I walked into it, the proud new owner of a simple, plain, floor-length black gown made of a totally pedestrian fabric, with thick straps and a simple neckline. It was the first dress I tried on and the least expensive dress in the entire evening department. But the fit? It was simply perfect. I learned a very important fashion lesson that evening -- sometimes going with what you know isn't being boring. Sometimes it's simply the only option. There's a reason I'm always drawn to the little black dress -- because it always looks perfect. And if that's the case, well, why fight it?

But the real fashion epiphany came when I decided upon my main accessory for the evening: my hair. It's only fitting, n'est-ce pas? Hair has been such a focus of my thoughts and scholarship the past few years,that it only makes sense that I should make hair the centerpiece of the outfit. I will visit my dear Jason to make this a reality, of course. But since he doesn't do up-do's, my options are limited.

I was stumped about what to request for styling at first, and thought a boring blow out would be my only option. Then, while setting my water glass down on my somewhat disconcerting Marilyn Monroe coasters the other night, it hit me: deep side part, big, soft curling-iron curls, et voila! Simple elegant, old-school glamour, much in the fashion of the Grande Dame of Bombshell Blondes.







I'm leaving for my hair appointment in a few minutes, and can't wait to see what Jason does. I hope it all comes together -- I'm cutting it pretty close with a 3:45 hair appointment.

Then again, if the look isn't perfect, who cares? This isn't my day, it's the brides. My simple goal is to be as pleasing an addition to the backdrop of her photos as possible. Thanks to Spanx, Jason's deft hair stylings, a killer dress, and $100 worth of make-up purchased impulsively at the Chanel counter, think I can make it happen.

But, goddamn! Being fancy is a lot of work.

keeping my hopes up...

So, the Pats lost last night, despite my predictions yesterday. I wonder if I cursed them?

Instead of getting bogged down in the potential "meaning" of that, I am focusing on the positive:

My book proposal went out to publishers today!
I suggest we all take this moment to pour ourselves a cocktail and raise a glass! Champagne as the base, of course. Why not try this recipe for a Marilyn Monroe which I came across in a fabulous little book my boss wrote a few years back?

Marilyn Monroe

4 oz Champagne
1 oz apple brandy (Applejack)
1 tsp grenadine
2 maraschino cherries

Combine ingredients in a glass & stir. Serve with two cherries on a stick.

Cin-cin and wish me luck!

From The Daily Cocktail by Dalyn A. Miller and Larry Donovan. Buy the book here.

marilyn monroe as a thing

I decided recently that Marilyn Monroe is one of my all-time favorite blondes.

I know, I know. It seems like a no-brainer. She scored the #9 spot on Forbes' Top Earning Dead Celebrities List in 2007, after all--anyone that lucrative clearly strikes the fancy of many. (She's the only woman on there, too.) But the more I learn about Marilyn, her tragic childhood, her difficult life in the spotlight, and her sad death by her own hand, the more I feel fascinated by her.

In light of this fascination, I decided, on a whim, to purchase these coasters with her image on them from Posh on Tremont Street a few weeks ago. The Mathematician and I were killing time waiting for a table at Aquitaine one Sunday, so we wandered in to look around. Posh is one of those stores that sells expensive nothing: novelties, silly cards, board games with names like "Dog-opoly". "Oooh, they have coasters with Marilyn on them!!!" I exclaimed when I saw the display. "Let's get them!" I guess you could say I got caught up in the moment. $40 and 20 minutes later, there I was eating brunch at Aquitaine, happy as a clam with two boxes full of Marilyn Monroe coasters be my side.

The thing is, part of the reason I bought the coasters because we needed them. I grew up in a coaster house, and have since been trained to use one under all beverages glasses (except those with stems, like wine or martini glasses.) And since I bought them, I've used my Marilyn coasters every day. But last night, while getting up to grab something from the kitchen, I put my glass down on Marilyn's face and it made me feel sad: there was Marilyn's enigmatic smile staring up at me. And there was my pint glass full of l'eau, on top of it. Water swished back and forth in the bottom of the clear glass as the liquid settled; her face swayed back and forth, too, suspended and submarine.

It made me feel sad to commodify Marilyn so because I believe her status as a living, breathing commodity is what drove her nuts. Feeling less a person than a thing, contrived and controlled by other people all the time--it must have been terrible. And I think it's a feeling to which many women can relate. Or at least, I can.

I love those coasters, but now they kind of make me sad.

So, where am I going to put my drinks?

blonde trivia

Tomorrow evening I'll be hosting the December meeting of our local LUPEC chapter Chez Moi. The theme I've chosen for the evening? Blondes, of course.

I spent the better part of the evening making some funny-looking-yet-delicious Butterscotch Blondies from this book, and researching cocktails to serve and blonde forebroads to discuss while we drink them. More on all that tomorrow. For now, I thought I'd share some fun facts about Hollywood's brightest blonde stars of yesteryear.

Did you know that...




When Fox refused to stop casting her as a dumb blonde, Marilyn Monroe moved to New York and started her own production company so she could take on more serious roles.


Marilyn Monroe is rumored to have had an IQ of 168.









Jean Harlow and Mae West were both credited with keeping their respective film companies in the black at different points during their careers through blockbuster ticket sales -- even during the lean years of the Great Depression.


Jean Harlow wrote a novel before her untimely death at age of 26. It pubbed in 1965, almost thirty years later.







Mae West was a life-long advocate for gay and trans-gendered rights. Her early play, The Drag, was about homosexuality and played to sold-out audiences--in New Jersey. The show was banned from Broadway.

Mae West recorded a rock and roll album. (I know.)


I hope you'll raise a glass in absentia tomorrow to these smarter-than-they-may-have-seemed blonde forebroads.

before and after blondes

Before the blonde,
before the Marilyn,
when she was still Norma Jean Mortenson...

No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they are pretty, even if they aren't. - Marilyn Monroe

* * * * *

After the blonde,
after the star was born,
a living icon, candy for any camera lucky enough to spy her...

I knew I belonged to the public and to the world, not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else. - Marilyn Monroe

The fascination continues...