Smells Like My Childhood

I just tried dry shampoo for the first time yesterday.  Where have you been all my life??  Why did I wait so long to try you??  Actually, I can answer that last question.

Ever since my stylist mentioned dry shampoo (like five years ago), I've had the notion in my head that it was akin to dumping a box of corn starch on your head:  powdery, messy, and ultimately not worth the bother.  And I've had that thought until just last week when I saw a rather hilarious commercial:




As you can see (and hear), it mentions dry shampoo and shows women using -- wait, what's that?  An aerosol can??  I needed to rethink my whole stance on dry shampoo because let's face it:  I don't wash my hair everyday.

Maybe I should have warned you before dropping that bomb.

But I don't.  Many of us don't.  In fact, you shouldn't.  Washing your hair everyday is hard on it and can strip it of the natural oils it needs to be healthy, but sometimes those oils get out of control and your hair looks wet even when it's not (ew).  Dry shampoo is perfect for that.  Or for mornings when you don't have time to shower and simply take a whore's bath (sponging yourself off and/or using a "wipe" of some kind) instead.  Don't lie.  You know you've done it.

Yesterday when running errands, I added "dry shampoo" to my list (yes, I use a list).  But what kind?  What brand?  Trying new things is scary!  Only one of my go-to, recognizable brands had a dry shampoo, which I nearly bought.  But another -- a brand I had never heard of -- had their bottles tagged with "UK's #1 dry shampoo" in several different scents.  Like a total redneck, I took off the cap in the store and sprayed just a tiny bit so I could smell it.  Not bad!  And I bought it.

I used it later in the day at home, a sort of test run before going in public with this.  I hadn't washed my hair since Thursday, so it was a good day to try.

Results:  It's still powdery.  In fact, it's still a powder (which makes sense when trying to absorb oils...because science!).  But it's an aerated powder -- aerated?  Aereolized?  That sounds like something you do to become a redheaded mermaid with nipples.  It's in a spray can, goddammit.

Mermaids are not in the market for dry shampoos.

As such, they're not kidding when they say to hold the can 12" away from your hair and to also brush your hair when done to get rid of any excess.  I did both, and I still may have overdone it a little.  But it was miraculous!  Suddenly, you wouldn't have guessed I hadn't washed my hair in more than 48 hours!

And the scent!  The bottle said "cherry," but it doesn't smell like an actual cherry so much as it smells like a toy from 1980s that was supposed to be cherry-scented.  Something in my childhood smelled just like this (not necessarily a bad thing).  I kept sniffing my hair because I enjoyed it so.

 Batiste Dry Shampoo in Cherry

The cons:  If you're not careful, it will look like you dumped some cornstarch or baby powder on your roots because of the powder.  And wow, it really makes my gray hairs stand out adds to your highlights!  And if you run your fingers through your hair too many times, they will feel all powdery, too.  Clearly, this is not for everyday use, but I may be hooked.  If you catch me sniffing my hair, you can bet it was a dry shampoo day.





News Flash:  Just now, while looking for images, it appears they make a dry shampoo with "a touch of color" for redheads!!!  We may be on to something here, folks.

FOR REDHEADS!
(But still not mermaids)

On Words, Racism, and Musical Theatre

Hoagie. Po' boy. Grinder. Muffuletta. BLT. Grilled cheese. Sub. Reuben. Club. PB&J. No matter what you call 'em, sandwiches are delicious, and yet another thing we Yanks stole from the British (tasty, tasty thievery).

What does this have to do with the above-mentioned subjects, Leonard??
I'm getting there!  Patience, reader.

The other night, several of my cast mates from my current show and I went out after rehearsal for drinks and snacks.  We went to a new place, directly across the street from our "old place."  The old place has become rather bitchy, sloppy, and put-upon when we try to spend money there; the new place has been very accommodating to performers wanting a late-night bite.

The new joint was jumping and quite loud.  We got a table and were perusing menus whilst waiting for our poor harried server.  One section of the menu listed, "Sandbos, Wraps, and Hot Dogs."  At least three of the six of us asked each other independently, "What's a 'sandbo'?"  There was no explanation on the menu of what made this particular delicacy different from other sandwich configurations.  Was it a combination of a sandwich and a hot dog?  Maybe a sandwich and a kebab?

When our overworked (but still delightfully sweet) server returned, we asked her, practically in unison, "What's a sandbo?"

"It's a sandwich," she said, somewhat deflated.

Nothing special.  Just a sandwich.

We were also disappointed.  "Oh."
"We're going to change it," she said.  "People have been getting offended."
"Offended??  Why?"

What about a sandwich could offend people?  Are those people also offended by fun and tasty goodness?

"Apparently it means something else in other places.  People have, like, thrown down the menus and left."

That is some serious sandwich offensiveness.  We were still puzzled.  What kind of dirty connotation did "sandbo" have elsewhere?  And then it hit me.

"They're thinking of sambo," I said, trying to enunciate clearly to point out the difference (plus, it was still loud).  I even spelled the two words to make my point (again, still loud).  "As in, 'little black Sambo.'  It's a derogatory term for black people."
The waitress looked amazed and then said, "Some of the people who were offended were African-American!"
"They sound similar, so..."
"I'm telling my manager.  He couldn't figure it out either," and off she went.

Now, I could take this moment to say I made this connection because I have a Master's degree in Literature, because I've spent six years teaching English, but that'd be complete and utter bullshit.  I made the connection because of musical theatre -- the musical Hair, to be exact.  The character Hud (who Wikipedia describes as a "militant African-American") sings a song in which he lists nearly all the derogatory terms for people of color out there (at least that were out there around 1967, when Hair was written).  The song's title is actually one of those terms:  "Colored Spade."  I made the connection because I could hear the song in my head when I heard "sandbo" (or "sambo").

Racism is a cultural thing.  It is a learned behavior.  As such, derogatory terms change depending on one's culture, region, language, and geography.  In Indiana, the word "Hoosier" is a good thing if one is a basketball fan.  When I moved to St. Louis, I found that it also meant "white trash" or "redneck," connotations it didn't have growing up in Nebraska and Iowa.  The parents of a high school friend of mine couldn't believe a local news station used the word "spook" when talking about Halloween and "ghosts and goblins."  They were originally from the Pacific Northwest and knew that "spook" was also a derogatory term for black people; my sixteen-year-old self had no idea.  While "sambo" was still prolific in the 1960s, many people today wouldn't recognize it, like our server and her manager.

So thanks, musical theatre and Hair, for the history and language lesson!  By the way, "Colored Spade" is also on my list of "Songs You Can't Sing in Public."  Several songs from Hair are ("Black Boys," "Sodomy") as well as "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" and "My Girlfriend Who Lives in Canada" from Avenue Q.  You can find the full lyrics (and learn more racist terms and several Southern delicacies) for the song here.

Wondering why I don't use the term "African-American" myself?  Read this post.

Today's the Day!

"The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize."

-Clairee Blech (Olympia Dukakis), Steel Magnolias (1989) 

I shouldn't be nervous, but I am.  Today is Day #1 of a two-day photo shoot.  But I'm not the model this time.  I'm the hair and make-up stylist.

Hair, make-up, and costumes (or "playing dress-up") is one of the main things I enjoy about theatre, so let's hope it translates to the camera.  People are counting on me for my esoteric knowledge of victory rolls, red lipstick, and wig caps!  I already had a stress dream about it last night (in which I forgot several key items), so I know I'm right on track.

During a conversation with a co-star about visual arts, I said that I "had no talent" in that area.  I come from a long line of artists, but I can't draw (or paint or sculpt or photograph) for shit.  My co-star disagreed.  She said that I "have an editorial eye."  And that stuck with me.  I'd like to think she was right.  I know what I want in my head when trying to achieve certain looks.

At any rate, we can all thank Leonard's mother for this.  Because of her most of my childhood was spent watching musicals and movies from Hollywood's Golden Age; that has played no small part in my desire to play dress-up all the time.  And like my acting, I have no formal education in hair/make-up.  Just trial and errors, a mother who sold Mary Kay cosmetics for a very long time, and now, YouTube tutorials.

Below is the tutorial I used to teach myself how to do victory rolls:


When this photo shoot is complete, I'm sure the Frogman will have things to post, including (possibly) some "behind the scenes" stuff in which you may see me poking about.