I'm beyond the point of allowing 'the news' to get the better of me these days; however, one hot item that hit the press this week really fired me up:
Country Music Consultant Says Female Artists are Merely Tomatoes in the Country Music Salad.
In a nutshell, this man claims that female artists don't get as much airplay because, according to 'research', they simply don't 'sell'.
I suppose this hit a nerve because back in my radio days/daze (late 1980's through mid-90's), a corporate program director for a country music station for which I worked essentially said the same thing: 'We don't play female artists back to back, and we usually don't play more than three female artists per hour.'
As a twenty-something with very little sense of self, I thought it was kind of dumb. As a forty-something with perhaps an overly-inflated sense of self, I think it's complete and utter hogwash.
As a young child, I harbored what may have been a strange fascination with radio - who were these people, and how did they have access to all the tunes? There was an element of mystery that appealed to my young soul. Add to it my love affair with the TV show WKRP in Cincinnati and it's no wonder that I chose radio as my profession (for a while). But real life was not WKRP (no program director I ever had wore his pants as tight as Andy Travis, and since none of them looked like Andy Travis, that was a very good thing. That's a good example of me being sexist in radio, a fair turn-the-tables, if you will).
By the time I hit the seen in a mid-size market, The Corporate Machine was already rearing it's ugly head. We jocks didn't pick the music - a computer program did, and it typically generated a most generic, depressing, overly watered-down sound. Throw in misogynistic managers and you've got yourself one troublesome situation.
Bah to that, says I. I changed professions. Teaching. I did it for twelve years in a private school before The Corporate Machine bought it. We teachers didn't pick our lesson plans - someone who'd never been in a classroom did, and it typically generated a most generic, depressing, and overly watered-down curriculum. Throw in misogynistic managers and you've got yourself one troublesome situation.
Bah to that, says I.
Bah to all of it, says I.
I don't know about you, Sisters and Brothers, but I'm tired of Men in Suits telling us what to do, what to listen to, what to watch, what to eat, what to feel, and how to present ourselves.
I could go off a full-blown rant, but my focus today is that of radio and the nonsense spewed forth by this consultant. Let me preface it by saying I don't listen to much country radio these days. I like my country organic, which means no pitch-correction, no special collaboration with rappers, and no canned music. So with that being said, what might happen if:
Someone had the sense to switch to an all-female format. All women, all the time. The artists featured would preferably be singers/songwriters who play an instrument. Vocalists are welcome provided they have never depended on electronic slight of hand when recording an album or performing live. Artists who are also positive and empowering role models for young women. All ages and ethnicities welcome.
And it wouldn't strictly have to be a music format. Include current, women-centered events and inspiring women-centered stories. Feature a Women in Business (with no corporate affiliation) segment. In short, a venue for women to speak, to express, and to support one another, run by women for women.
Good Goddess Almighty - when did I become a feminist?
The F word has been bandied about much in recent years, and I still don't really understand its true definition or the tangents it has taken. Equal pay for equal work? Yes. Equal radio air-play for all? Yes. An opportunity to prance around half-naked and express one's sexuality in front of a stadium full of strangers? I don't think so.
All I know is this: I'm officially sick of male domination (there, I said it). Sisters, we owe it to ourselves and to our daughters to cry 'No Mas! We don't want what you're selling because we're smart enough to seek and think for ourselves.'
Now that I'm on a roll, I'd really like to get back into radio - on my terms (see 'all female format'). It must be commercial-free and a safe place for women to express themselves. As much as I hate Go Fund Me, I'd take it just to get such a station on the air. I wouldn't need anything fancy - a few watts of power, a couple of old-school turntables (because that's how I learned to run a board) and a microphone. KLHS (K (because all stations begin their call letters with a K down here) Let Her Speak). I like it.
I'm too shy to start it myself, but I'm certainly not too proud to have someone else kick start it for me. I'll do the all the grunt work gladly for those willing to pony up a few shekels.
And with that, Dear Hearts, I leave you with a number by Elizabeth Cook, who never gets any airplay on regular radio but hosts a dandy of a show on Sirius FM's Outlaw Country. Something to think about....
Nothing steals our elegance more, Dear Hearts, than poorly groomed, perspiration-infused attempts at looking and feeling chic. With the unofficial start of summer upon us, I'd like to offer you my personal jack-pot, tried and true ways to stay cool - both literally and figuratively: 1. Stay indoors 2. Make moist towelettes your best friend. Keep a few in your handbag, back pocket, or hidden away in your socks (which I hope to Heaven you're not wearing with your sandals). Utilize them only in the most private of venues (powder room - yes, cafeteria - no) 3. Some so-called experts suggest we go with a lighter touch when it comes to applying our make-up. I disagree, especially if you're skin, like mine, is not as vibrant as it used to be. If you can get away with nothing more than a tinted moisturizer and a bit of lip gloss, I salute you. 4. Lightly spray your feet with antiperspirant. Sure, aerosol cans full of harsh chemicals aren't good for the environment, but neither is foot odor. Think about it. 5. Forgo your heavier perfume for a body spray or lotion. I bought this as a room spray, but the back of the label says it can be used on the body plus it's all about attracting good mojo and I'll take all the help I can get.
(Note: not all room deodorizers double as a a body spray. Most men aren't aroused by the smell of Lysol. Don't ask me how I know this - I just do). Now let's talk fashion: -Remain super-mindful of the length of your shorts and skirts. Use leg makeup for unsightly veins and blemishes. -No cleavage at work, and double-check with HR to determine just how much arm you're allowed to reveal. Ditto for open-toed shoes - some companies do not allow them. -Don't spend a small fortune on basic t-shirts; most craft stores sell them for around $2 - $5. -You can incorporate fall and winter accessories cleverly this time of year. Watch this:
Remember, soaring temperatures do not mean we get a pass on looking our best. Stay fabulous, Sweeties!
Feelings....nothing more than feelings....
I think the worst thing anyone could say to another human being is, "You shouldn't feel that way." "You shouldn't act that way," "you shouldn't dress that way," and "you should get out of my way" are acceptable suggestions when the appropriate opportunity strikes; however, feelings are highly personal, and I think when you encourage someone to put the kibosh on hers, you could very well be contributing to her emotional downfall.
It boils down to sensitivity - something our society seems to lack these days.
Think about it: when we ask, "how are you?" we don't really expect a response. On the rare occasion we get one, we're caught off guard. Personally, I never tell anyone how I'm really doing, mainly because I so seldom get the chance to do so, and besides I'm not one to open up too much. They don't call me "Close to the Vest Newman" for nothing (nobody calls me that - I'm just making stuff up at this point).
Anyhow, I think the vast majority of us could do with some serious sensitivity training - all the 'do unto others' ideals we were taught in Sunday School yet have forgotten over time. If we really paused before speaking and attempted to place ourselves in another's position, we'd a) avoid hurting someone, and b) avoid making a complete and utter ass out of ourselves. Of course, with that being said, I think many of us have become highly sensitive to things that simply don't matter in the grand scheme of things. They include but are not limited to:
-politics
-religion
-money
-celebrities
-sports
-music
As far as sensitivity goes, the only things we should be sensitive about are:
-family
-children in need
-the ill and the old
-animals
-insuring everyone gets an equal chance no matter his race, culture, gender, or sexual orientation
Put yourself in someone else's shoes, Brother - you've no idea what they may be going through. Think before you speak. Listen more than you speak. And if you're one of the quiet, sensitive ones who feels as if you may absolutely lose your shit at some point, do it and do it in a big way. Get it out. Make it one of the epic events of your life. Make it so that generations to follow will tell stories of 'The time Aunt Sheila lost it and went off on everyone at Christmas'. I personally can't wait to reach the point in which I'll actually throw a drink in someone's face.
All kidding aside, if you are one of the highly sensitive in a world of blundering oblivions, seek an outlet. I recommend some sort of spiritual counseling because it helps cover all the bases (at least it does for me). Go with what works best for you, though, and remember - what goes around comes around.
The meek shall inherit the earth.
I won't say she's the worst person I've ever met, but she definitely falls into my Top Three.
It was through my brief stint working in retail several years ago that we met. Hired as a manager for the store, I naturally assumed she knew what she was doing. If thievery and stirring up trouble were prerequisites for the job, it's no surprise the Powers That Be saw something special in her.
At first, I simply found her annoying: she wouldn't stop talking. I'm not much for chit chat, but her stories of her alleged past as a salon owner, security officer, and being the ex-wife of an NFL player she refused to name intrigued me. I'm pretty good at spotting BS; little did I know the S would get even deeper.
Her sneaky S snuck up on us initially in the form of bullying. A colleague with some serious personal issues was having difficulty doing her job effectively. Rather than reach out, contact HR, cut her a little slack (you know, the things managers are supposed to do) our subject opted to report this woman as 'completely incompetent' and drove her point home by keying the woman's car.
I S you not.
She mocked a wheel-chair bound customer behind said customer's back. She flirted with every man who entered the shop, except the gay ones. She didn't like homosexuals, and made no secret of it. She told a Muslim woman to 'take the curtain' off her head. She forced junior associates to buy her sodas and never paid them back. She parked in front of a neighboring store and threatened legal action when they asked her to stop. She was a horrible speller, and her grammar was no picnic, either.
You can't make this S up, Gentle Reader.
Then merchandise went missing. Small things at first - earrings, stuff like that. And the gossip! She went out of her way to tell any and all about insults from other employees (supposedly) hurled against each of us. Needless to say, morale hit bottom. Some of us were asked by the Powers That Be to keep an eye on her and report back any suspicious or unprofessional behavior. That's not my style, but I did as I was told. My only offering was a report of her spending three hours on the phone with her cable company when she should have been on the sales floor. We were the only two employees working at the time, so she easily figure out that I was the rat. She accused me of being a lying, racist, anti-Christan goody-two-shoes, and promised to make my life miserable. That night I went home, typed up my letter of resignation, and plotted all the different places I could park my car within a two-mile radius of the store. I didn't resign immediately, but I kept the letter in my purse, just in case. After all that, the worst she did was ignore me - a welcome respite from her constant chatter, to be honest.
We then began receiving surprise visits from the Head of Security for this particular store. Big chain stores have those, you know, and they've got all this groovy equipment to not only track inventory but to track transactions as well. I'd heard things about questionable sales and returns while under our subject's watch, but didn't think much about it until the day she broke her vow of silence against me.
"WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM THIS TIME, BETH?" Typed in all caps because she yelled at me as the Security Head and another manager escorted her to the back room.
They were in there for hours, and no one wanted to leave at the end of her shift. Too caught up in the drama, we made excuses to stick around.
Finally, she emerged from the back, purse in hand, and yelling (again). "I WILL OWN THIS COMPANY! I'M CALLING MY LAWYER WHEN I GET HOME! YOU ALL ARE TRYING TO CRUCIFY ME! JUST BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN!" (that one didn't make any sense; the store was predominately female.) And with that, she left.
My shift was long over, so I went to the back to gather my things. The Security Head asked me how to get to the nearest police department. I told him, and he ran out the back door, violating store policy. No one was to enter or exit the back door. I'd learned my lesson about being a tattle-tale, though, and I figured as Security Head he could come and go as he pleased.
We never heard nor saw from her again.
I left the store a couple of months after the incident - nothing to do with her and everything to do with me not being cut out for retail. God bless those who are. It's a tough, thankless gig, and I admire anyone who can stick it out for longer than a few months.
Although it's been years since the incident, she still crosses my mind. Curious, I did a little detective work recently and discovered that she had been punished accordingly for her misdeeds against the store. It's all a matter of public record. Thank you, Internet, for showing me yet again that karma is real.
Now don't get me wrong: I adore vintage, but a fine line exists between retro and wrong-tro. Every decade gone by has brought her fair share of glorious fashions, from the Roaring 20's Flapper to the New Look of the late 1950's/early 1960's (my personal favorite) to the fun frivolity of the 1970's (think Studio 54 and Halston, NOT the Brady Bunch). The Great Gatsby, Mad Men, and even Downton Abbey with its own fabric line, prove that period pieces still turn heads and inspire trends. Yet as far as the 1980's go, the jury's still out.
A number of teens, I've noticed, have adopted the skinny pant and neon colors I wore in my youth, but I don't see many adults following their lead. There's a reason for it: some of those styles, in hindsight, were downright hideous, and what works for youngsters does not translate well for those of us old enough remember Magnum PI and Alexis Carrington.
The inspiration for this little musing stems from a recent reception I attended in which another reveler, approximately my age, sported a full-blown Miami Vice tribute, complete with whisker stubble and sockless shoes. I'll give him credit, though - the lavender t-shirt he wore under his cobalt blue suit worked nicely. Had we been at my senior prom (class of 88), I would have stood in a corner using my Jedi mind-trick powers willing him to dance with me (side note: that never worked on straight boys back in my day, but I didn't care - the best boyfriends were the ones more interested in my wardrobe than in a love connection. The fun we had devouring Seventeen Magazine each month!). Anyhow, I spent the evening wondering what in God's name possessed him to go for it in such a rad and totally tubular way.
Over time, I've lightened up in my role as judge, jury, and executioner when it comes to fashion. From what I've seen in restaurants, airports, and grocery stores, only a handful of people were listening to me anyway. Yet occasions such as running smack dab into Crockett and/or Tubbs in 2015 have me falling back into my old stylish snarkiness. So indulge me, Gentle Reader, for offering the following Gentle Reminders:
1. If you are old enough to have worn a trend when it was trendy, don't wear it now. Opt for modernized nods to your era of choice.
2. You can get away with an era that is older than you, but again, modernization is the key.
3. If your children are wearing it, you really really really shouldn't.
4. If you've never left a particular era, it's time. Cyndi Lauper and Boy George have transitioned nicely into the modern age, and you can, too, Sweetie.
Fashion is a fabulous venue for self-expression. If it feels good, do it, but proceed with caution when it comes to wearing vintage. There's a difference between 'Hello, Darling!' to 'Hell No, Dummy!" so be careful. Seek style gurus that resonate with YOU (loads of them on the Internet), and follow their lead.
And if you have specific questions (limit two per person, please, for I'm very busy and don't have much of an attention span these days), feel free to submit them via the comment box. Cheers, Sweeties!
Had the groom told us beforehand that the dress code was 'sky clad', the guests, along with the bride and the members of the wedding party, most likely wouldn't have shown up. To be honest, I didn't know the couple that well; I'm merely a friend of a friend of a friend. I only went because I'd never been to a Pagan wedding before. Little did I know at the time that lesbian Universal Life ministers would become a trend, so I totally wasted my time with this one. Anyway, we thought he made the request in jest, but when he disrobed and threatened to call the police if others didn't follow suit (pun totally intended), we knew he meant business. The bride cried while her father threatened to punch his new son-in-law in the mouth. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: hard core Pagans and free-flowing champagne are never a good combination.
I'm not comfortable with public nudity; I am, however, comfortable with free cake, so once I helped myself to a slice, I hightailed it out of there. Now you understand why I rarely leave the house. There's always going to be some element of large gatherings that makes me uneasy. Whether it's nudity or just the noise, I can't handle being part of a big group. I play a good game for a while, though, and can find tools to help me cope (see: free cake), but generally speaking, I'd prefer spending time with a small segment of fully-clothed, like-minded individuals. My friends and I gladly own our introvert status, and we've finally reached the age in which we're comfortable telling one another, "It's 8:00, and I need to leave." We, unlike those pesky extroverts, would never insist that you stay for just one more.
We understand and embrace the comfort zone concept - we're only equipped with what we have and we try to make the best of it. No amount of goading or badgering shall change us, so don't bother trying. I guess the point of today's story, boys and girls, is that we've no right to infringe our own way of life upon one another. Your insistence upon nudity is someone else's worst nightmare (for more reasons than one. Have you ever noticed that those who practice nudity are never really the ones you want to see naked?). You've no right to request that everyone get on board with it. I'm not enforcing my fabulous clothes upon you, Streaking Stanley, so leave me alone. Live and let live, friends. That's the elegant way.
On-the-job travels have kept me away for a couple of weeks, so I welcome myself back to this little musing with open arms. Unfortunately, Gentle Reader, I have no specific topic in mind, but since we're here to celebrate elegance, let's reconnoiter. We cannot make strides toward world domination if we don't take pause to review what, specifically, we're here to do. Elegant Musings Mission Statement: to enhance our lives with lovely and loving people, places, and things. To ignore and/or mock those who refuse to measure up to our high standards. To dress appropriately for every occasion and to use the proper fork. To display good will for all except those who don't deserve it (which includes but is not limited to bigots, hate-mongers, narcissists, oblivions, and your basic run-of-the-mill idiots). Requirements for Acceptance: a good sense of humor and a desire to make the world a kinder, more compassionate and spiffier place. Things We Won't Tolerate: whiners, loud-mouths, stinkpots, cat-haters, know-it-alls, and lactose. Things We Will Tolerate: humor, irony, spiritual exploration, art, five-dollar words, and bottles of red wine. How You Can Help: laugh at this blog when appropriate, share this blog if you'd like, and take this and any other advice-offering forum with a grain of salt. Only you know what's best for you. Don't give me that, of course you do - turn off the TV, sit in silence for a minute (or day...or week...) and try to figure yourself out, for crying out loud. Any Other Business?: why, yes, thanks for asking. The only way we can make the world a more elegant place is by doing the best job we can while on this plane. No fighting, demonstrating, petition-signing is going to do it. Pick a couple of causes that resonate with you (in addition to this one), and contribute what you can peacefully. Turn off all gadgets while at the dinner table. Eat good food. Real food. Fresh food. Shop locally if you can, and do visit second-hand and thrift stores often. Limit the amount of stuff in your home. Clean your home, for Heavens' sake. Adopt as many cats and dogs as you can. Limit your attention to Western medicine; seek alternatives when you're ill (if you're gravely ill, see a doctor, though - don't be stupid). Get together with friends on a regular basis. I could go on, but I've got Pineapple Pork (yes, local and organic, Wise Guy) in the crock pot and I must take my leave of you, dear hearts, in order to check on it. If I haven't told you before, let me tell you now: I appreciate you so much for reading my little scribblings, and although we may not change the world, it's nice to know I'm in good company in our efforts.
Is a little elegance too much to ask?
Probably. If you're looking for inspiration or enlightenment, you've come to the wrong place. All entries are intended for entertainment purposes only, and should not be taken internally. Side effects may include, but are not limited to: nausea, dizziness, bloodshot eyes, split-ends, the heebie jeebies, and fleas.
Additionally, I don't want a great big following. I loathe crowds and would prefer to keep the riff-raff out of this mix.
