Author Archives: Libby Cudmore

02

Jun. ’13

Aunt Libby

“Let your sons see what a glamour girl they have for a mother” Arlene Dahl, Always Ask a Man.

Today I became Aunt Libby for the fourth time.  My sister Laura gave birth to her first child, a boy, Max Vaughn, at 12:03 a.m.  Max joins my nephew Jacob and my nieces Rachel and Lucy.  I went to visit Laura, Max and my brother-in-law Chris at the hospital, and while I held a very sleepy Max, Laura glammed herself up.  Laura has always been very glam, never going out without her hair done and her makeup on from a glitter clutch purse.  The fact that 15 hours ago, she gave birth to an 8 lb, 10 oz human being was not going to turn her into a slob.

My sister Shaun, mother of my nephew Jacob, has that seemingly-effortless glamour that many New York women have.  When I was in high school, all I wanted to do was look like her.  She had long, thick dark hair that fell in beautiful curls down her back and she wore silver glitter platforms to her prom.  She has a mysterious elegance to her, even if she’s wearing jeans and a black tee-shirt to push her kids on the swings.

I’m on the fence about having kids.  Right now my life is to hectic to even consider it, but I’m finally at an age where I can really start appreciating what it means to be an Aunt and how much fun I can have doing so.

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01

Jun. ’13

Girls in Glasses

“Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses” Dorothy Parker

I’ve worn glasses since I was in third grade, except for my mid-teens/early 20’s, when I wore contacts, and then switched back to glasses from about 24 on.  

Lots of babes I know wear glasses.  My friend Rachel is a knockout and she wears wire-rims.  My friend Melissa just got a really sexy new pair of cheaters.  And when I asked the Panel of Gentleman, not one of them said they ever have a problem making a pass at a girl in a pair of spectacles.  In fact, several of them said they prefer it.

But just as a test, I put in a new pair of lenses and . . . nobody noticed.  I take that back–Mike noticed because he complimented my new blue eyeliner, which he might not have seen if I was wearing glasses.

Dorothy Parker is witty and wonderful, but in beauty tips, she couldn’t be more wrong.

 

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29

May. ’13

Ta-Da!

First off, I want to thank everyone for their input on my new ‘do.  I took it all into consideration, and came up with this:

New Hair2

It combines Carla Gugino’s Sin City bob (as recommended by The Kangaroo Muledog Press) with Thom’s suggestion to “leave enough for a handful,” and Pete’s recommendation that it be “punkish but posh.”  My future intent is to take Eeon’s suggestion and grow it out long, and maybe if it’s, say,  Dorito Nacho Night (oh yes) it might get “messy, with food in it” as Dave suggested.

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27

May. ’13

Hothead

“Massage your hair and scalp thoroughly with a vegetable oil, then steam the hair and scalp for half an hour by wrapping your head in a hot, damp terry towel” Arlene Dahl, Always Ask a Man.

Before I go and get my BRAND NEW HAIRCUT (coming soon!), I wanted to give my old hair one last hurrah with a hot oil treatment (also, if it went really badly, it wouldn’t matter because I was getting it professionally shampooed and they could deal with it).  Since we were out of olive oil (except for the rosemary and garlic kind, good on bread, bad on head) I decided to go with coconut oil, because it says on the package that it’s what the beautiful people use for shiny hair.  I want to be both

I melted it down and it didn’t go in quite as easily as I thought it would.  The hot towel posed a whole other set of problems, since we just went through a cold snap and the house isn’t exactly balmy.  It went cold every few minutes, and I kept having to microwave it, which meant pausing the terrible SVU rerun I was watching on Hulu because the new season of Arrested Development made me feel uncomfortable and sad (yeah, I said it).

At the end of all of it, my hair was shiny…in a guido, unwashed hair kind of way.  It took a few shampoos to get all of it out and even then it looked a little weighed down and sticky.  Live and learn, I guess.  Onward to new hair! 

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23

May. ’13

One Day More

Just one more day to vote on what I should do with my hair!  Here are some highlights from the votes thus far:

1) “Leave enough for a good handful” Thom (Fresh!)

2) “Option Four: Aeon Flux” Pete (Eeon responded “Didn’t her hair turn into a sword?”  I would totally get sword hair)

3) “Your Dano-Esq hair looks great and you shouldn’t feel any pressure to change it” Mike (awww!)

One more day!  Leave them in the comments, email geek.girl.goes.glam (at) gmail.com or find me on twitter @libbycudmore

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22

May. ’13

The Best Pot Pie Pretty Much Ever

“Remember to keep plenty of Carnation Evaporated Milk in the cupboard.  No other form of milk has as many uses as Carnation!” Mary Blake, Teen-Time Cooking With Carnation

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And speaking of yummy . . . .

I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve pretty much conquered pot pies.  Yep, got it down.  And this one is 60’s housewife easy, so you can hold your daytime typing gig and still be home in time to get dinner on the table when your man gets home from work, but loose enough where, if you’re so inspired, you can do it all from scratch.  It’s inspired partially by the chicken and bacon jacket pie that Ian had when we were in London to see Ewan McGregor in Guys and Dolls.

The Glam Geek’s C&B Pot Pie

1/2 Rotisserie chicken (or leftovers from a previous chicken dinner) shredded

4 strips bacon (get the really good, thick cut, applewood smoked from the butcher–none of this frozen, Oscar Meyer junk)

1/2 sweet onion, roughly chopped

1 bag of frozen veggies (California mix or stir-fry)

1 box frozen pie crust, thawed (you’ll need both pieces)

2 golden potatoes, cooked and mashed to your liking (leftovers or from the grocer’s deli counter may be used)

Really good sharp cheddar (I got some amazing, extra-aged NY sharp cheddar from Sperbeck’s in Cooperstown)

Carnation evaporated milk

Put the veggies on to steam. Fry up the bacon until crisp and drain on paper towels. Using at least half the bacon grease, saute the onions until glossy and mellow.  Reduce heat to low. Tear up the bacon and toss it in there, along with the chicken.  Heat until warm and douse with Carnation Evaporated Milk until covered and then throw the steamed veggies in there too.  Make sure everything is coated with milk, add herbs to your taste (I like sage, thyme, a little tarragon, some parsley and basil, then just enough pepper to taste–no salt, though, the bacon takes care of that) then set aside.

Roll the pie crust out into a deep pie pan (you might need to use a square casserole dish)  Spread the mashed potatoes over the bottom, then grate the cheese over that.  Add the meat and veggie mix, cover with the second crust and bake in a 400 oven until the crust is golden brown.

Enjoy!

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21

May. ’13

Crowdsourcing my ‘do

I think it’s about time I got rid of my accidental, once-called-Paul-Dano-esq flip hairdo, as it has grown to an odd, shaggy length that, while cute, is sort of boring me.

But, like makeup, I am terrible at picking out a haircut, so I thought, why not enlist the help of the internet?  They ALWAYS make good decisions (see also: The return of Arrested Development)

Hair Front

I’ve got three specific choices, but I’m up for suggestions.  I want something cute, but needs minimal maintence, but sexy.  Here’s what I’m thinking:

OPTION ONE: Leave it the way it is and grow it out.  Should be long and even by fall with only a few basic trims.

OPTION TWO: The Sin City “Lucille” bob.  Downside: Have to curl it under every day.

OPTION THREE: The Victoria Beckham/Faye Valentine angled bob.  Downside: I’d have to straighten it every day, and will probably burn my ears

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Option #2

OPTION FOUR: Suggestions?  Tweet them to @libbycudmore or email them (with pics!) to geek.girl.goes.glam (at) gmail (dot) com

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Option #3

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18

May. ’13

A Lover Sings

“You’re the kind of girl who likes to open a bottle of pop too early in the journey” Billy Bragg, “A Lover Sings”

My friend Liz RT a post from a former, older male friend of mine: I could never be the cool dad. Unless tween girls think surliness & drinking & discolored sweatpants with weak elastic are cool. Do they?

I’m not going to go into all the moderately-scandalous details of our friendship (ask me about it at a party sometime) only that at one point he may or may not have referred to me as “his secret girlfriend.” *  But it was my early 20’s, and I was young and eager for affection, and he later broke my heart via a mix CD with Billy Bragg’s “A Lover Sings” (who does that?!?) and quit speaking to me until years later, when we got back in touch, had a too-long and awkward lunch and never spoke again.  

But seeing this tweet made me very, very sad.  He was never quite a fashion plate, although I do confess that I would swoon whenever he wore his yellow button-down and dark blue jeans, and he did have this cute blue scarf he wore clumsily looped around his unshaven neck.  He was a proto-hipster, a mix CD making, pulp reading, Chandler quoting genius.  And now, apparently, he just hangs around drinking gin and wearing gross sweatpants. But he was always surly.  Glad to see some bad habits never die hard.

Arlene and HGB and Dorothy put so much pressure on US, ladies, to stay fit and trim and cordial and pretty.  And there was no one on earth I tried to be as pretty for as him.  I would have DIED before showing up for one of our coffee dates in jeans and a tee-shirt.  Once, I wore cute go-go boots for him and he told me I looked like a streetwalker.  See what I mean about surliness?

But if a man isn’t going to put pride in his appearance, why should the woman he’s trying to woo put any into hers?  And then haven’t we all just given up?  Because it’s not about the clothes–it’s about the effort.  It’s about saying “I respect and care for you enough to put in some time” the same way we put time into our appearance when we go to work.  Looking good is not a crime.

And there is a time for sweatpants, a time for pajamas, a time for baggy jeans and a time for too-big tee-shirts. But it’s as if he’s given up.  It’s as if he’s given in.  The man who used to share his Junior Mints with me at Clive Owen movies and sat so close to me during Rififi that our knees were touching is no more, just one more sarcastic, bitter, middle-aged man loafing around while life goes by.  And those, darlings, are a dime a dozen and not worth a tenth of that.

Maybe that’s not the case, I don’t know.  Maybe I’m reading too much into it, attaching value and meaning that isn’t there.  But what I do know is that the man I knew, the man who gave me vintage crime paperbacks and taught me to love French Roast coffee wouldn’t be caught dead slumming like that. 

 

*Answer: He totally did.

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