Guest Post at Savvy Selections: Urban Decay Review

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Urban Decay Sustainable

Shadow Pallette 04/13/11

First a little introduction: I don’t wear make-up everyday. Somedays I leave the apartment with nothing on my face except maybe Clinique Line Smoothing Concealer on the under eye and red areas. But I think of makeup as fun, and playful. And apply “the face” when I’m in the mood. My aim is to make my usual rolled out of bed look more polished.

I had been lusting after the Book of Shadows palette over the holidays at Sephora and the Urban Decay site, but it was always sold out. Another palette caught my eye, the Sustainable Shadow Box. It’s a sweet palette with 10 shades. The packaging is made of bamboo and has an artistic design on the cover that swings over to cover the palette. Did I mention I love purple! So I’m officially in love with the interior of this pack. However, I wouldn’t recommend this as a palette to travel with because the cover can easily get dislodged open. I tend to leave it at home instead of being in my makeup bag. But a solution to this problem would be a smaller tightly packed makeup bag.

It comes with Eyeshadow Primer Potion. I’ve never used primer before. It looks a lot like a light concealer and using it before you put the shadow on makes the colour appear bolder. I do recommend it for the sparkly shadows, otherwise you can end up with sparkles migrating to your cheeks. Although, if you’re dancing the night away you might not mind that.

Overall this palette is very glittery. The shades in the pack are: YDK, Flipside, Grifter, Uzi, Twice Baked, Midnight Cowboy Rides Again, Flash, Oil Slick, Kiddie Pool, and Half Baked. The warmer shades are the ones I use more often. YDK is very glittery bronze with a little bit of gold. Twiced Baked is a rich brown with glitter. Midnight Cowboy Rides Again is a nice sparkly light gold. It is great for a base with Twiced Baked in the crease to define and YDK to highlight. Half Baked is one of only shades sans glitter, but is still bright bronze shimmer. It can be toned down with Midnight Cowboy. Flash is a very pigmented purple. I have eyes that can’t make up their mind between being blue, grey, and green. Purple brings out the green. Uzi and Oil Slick are respectively glittery white and black. Uzi works as a highlighter, but don’t use too much. Whereas I find Oil Slick works best applied with a brush to create smokey lines. I’m undecided how I feel about Flipside, I’ve tried using this bright pine green on my light fair skin, and it looked trashy. I think it would look better with darker skin tones. Grifter and Kiddie Pool remain on the fence. Maybe in the summer I will be drawn to the pink and blue shades… but not yet.
It cost $36 American, I think it came to about $45-50 Canadian including shipping from Sephora. Urban Decay is only available online at Sephora (at least in Montreal).

Rated: 4/5
Verdict: Mostly wearable. But not travel friendly. Would buy another palette.

Lisa de Grandpre

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Move over Twilight

Vampires are back in a big way. Not since Buffy, Angel, and Blade has bloodsucker-mania been so big. Much of the thanks-or blame-must go to Twilight. Twilight is the hit book-to-movie explosion that has the tween-to-teen set buying everything related.

But credit is long due to Dead Until Dark, the first book in the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris, which has spawned the hit HBO series True Blood. Small town. Girl meets boy. Boy is a vampire. Love ensues. Some people don’t approve. Love conquers all?

Luckily this series isn’t that simple. The series is set in the fictional town of Bon Temps, Louisiana. It’s erotic, and violent. If you thought Twilight was too tame, this might be for you.

In this world vampires are out of the coffin, so to speak, drinking synthetic blood made in Japan, and un-living among … the living. Sookie is a sassy waitress who is also a mind reader. Bill is the new vampire in town. They court in old fashion Southern style—and local murders are the only complication.

Just be warned: the first book is the entire plot for the first season of True Blood.

3.5/5

This article was published March 24th 2009 from the Link and can be found in their archive.

What’s in a name?

Multidisciplinary artist goes beyond the pages of Don Quixote in the Canadian premiere of Dulcinea’s Lament

by ELISABETH DE GRANDPRE

What happens when you are named after an idealized female character from one of the greatest books of all-time? If you’re Dulcinea Langfelder, you create theatre—or something that looks kind-of like it.

A native New Yorker, Langfelder’s company is anchored in Montreal and showcased around the world before landing in front of a Montreal audience. Dulcinea’s Lament, running this week at the D.B. Clarke theatre, is an innovative piece using film, projection, dance, puppetry and song (to name a few).

A self-proclaimed multidisciplinary personality, Langfelder doesn’t let the guidelines of what theatre should be, determine what she does and how she tells her story. “My work is very personal [and] often autobiographical. Kind of like opening up your diary on stage,” she shared during our phone interview.

Named after the unseen love interest Dulcinea del Toboso in Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote, Langfelder has always made references to her literary namesake. However, this is the first time it has been her vehicle in storytelling; if Dulcinea del Toboso had a voice, what would she say?

The piece had a long creative process that started in 2001, as the world was changing in the wake of 9/11 and she began to discover the Internet for herself; finding knowledge at her fingertips.

Dulcinea’s Lament grew through discovery and research, becoming a personal quest for Langfelder through the lens of Cevantes’ fictional del Toboso.

The piece asks poignant questions; what happens after righteousness fails? Who is underneath the ideal woman? Can she have a voice? These hard questions are explored in a whimsical fashion, often having Langfelder adorned in sequence, or just simply a sheet.

Although it may be more enjoyable for those who have read Don Quixote, it isn’t a prerequisite for appreciating the journey that is Dulcinea’s Lament.

Dulcinea’s Lament starts tomorrow and runs until Nov. 19 at the D.B. Clarke Theatre (1455 de Maisonneuve W.) at 8 p.m. with a matinee on Nov. 16 at 3 p.m. Tickets are $28, $22 for students, (514) 790-1245.

This article was published November 11th 2008 from the Link and can be found in their archive.

Imaging Astrology

Rob Brezsney’s Freewill astrology for Pisces this week says:

The uterus of a pregnant sand tiger shark is not exactly a peaceful sanctuary. Her eggs hatch in there well before she gives birth. Soon the multiple embryos begin a fight to the death. By the time the mother goes into labor, there’s just one pup remaining. I suspect there’s now a similar kind of survival-of-the-fittest struggle going on within the metaphorical womb of your imagination, Pisces. Several pretty good brainchildren are tussling for supremacy. Which one will defeat and eat the others and grow into maturity? I bet we’ll find out soon. 

  The body of the fallen lay Lover crumpled on the ground, a seemingly lifeless corpse, sprawled out. She was beautiful, full of dreams, hopes, and ambitions of great Love and Happiness. She is a tragic figure, with her wavy locks, spread out encircling her form like a rusted golden halo. She is an angel who has lost her wings. The Others sit around the space- in mourning? Not really- mostly wondering which one is next. They didn’t execute the Lover, she was broken down by something else. But regardless, another one bites the dust, pardon the cruel irony of the expression. She had united them- made them all believe they could each have moments, that they could all be one. Like something trite as the Spice Girls. That they could be a unity, an Actor-Writer-Singer-Pragmatist-Lover, a quintet of power. But now that she had fallen, they sat-paced-hid-stood waiting for the next one to make the move. Pragmatist stood tall by the body, she knew she would win in the end. Making money. Making money. She repeated with a firm belief that her logic would seep through, and she would stay standing while all the creative fools killed each other. They’d have to bury the body- the Lover couldn’t possibly be awaken anytime soon. Logically speaking it was improbable. It’s a fact.  Actor sat- posed- postulated, wondering what words could be used to express the Pain and Joy. Love alters not- bears it out to edge of dooooooom. Wise words- Doooooom! She let the words roll around her mouth, felt the vibrations the ‘O’ sound created in her mouth. Mouth. Mouth. The ‘th’ was intoxicating. Taking it apart like Stanislavsky’s turkey- or was it a chicken? Actor would take them all apart with the words of others flowing like super powers through herself, through her body, her instrument. What did the Actor know about words- other then speaking them with manufactured meaning? The Writer, paced around the space, avoiding the elephant in the room.  Writer knew you could agonize other a sentence, or word, or paragraph- but mostly you have to be bold, and keep it writing. Just keep writing. Be bold or die. One was already dead. 4 more to go. How would a great envision them? What would Austen write? Would they all be drinking tea with empire waists? Would the Lover still lie at their feet? What about the body? Would it be realistic, naturalistic- or a horse of a different color? What-why-who-where-how-mostly why? Ever so softly in the corner the Singer bid her time. She hummed a tune. She hated the Lover. While she reigned for the past two years, Singer was in the dark, locked in a small cage only to be poked and prodded and never good enough. Only once- when she sang a love song. Blah! So she ignored the gravity of death and smiled. A lifeless form- inspiration for a melody. Broken hearts make the best songs. She smiled to herself. She would soon have the power to pierce the ears of all around her until their brains bled out of their noses. What rhymes with noses?

The Lover lay there as they figured this new situation out. She was half alive but felt mostly dead. Something she once heard in a love song- once upon a something. Lover hoped she would breath once more, she knew she would, the way you know about the sun rising and moon becoming full. Let them kill each other, and let them eat each other’s hearts, but in the end they are all the same. Lover let herself get lost for a while. Dancing on clouds and shooting stars as most lovers do.

Lavarama

The laundromat was almost empty. The front walls were lined with single, double and triple load washers, as well as four rows of washers in the middle of the room. The washers were an assortment of colors, and styles, top loaders, front loaders. The larger ones made the floor vibrate. In the back of the small but well used space were two facing walls lined with industrial dryers. As the washers rumbled and dryers tossed, and ceiling fans swirled one could imagine floating  away on the teal waves that bordered the wall. Soda, snacks, candy, and small packets of detergent were all readily available for a small fee from the vending machine scattered around. Two brown park benches faced the double load front facing washers, with the sun shining at the back from the front window.

There was a brightly dressed smiling woman who was short and solid standing by the long table in the middle of the dryers. The new comer approached her with trepidation holding her linen shopping bag, and two packed laundry bags.

“Any tips for a first timer?” she inquired.

“Avoid the white dryers, they eat your quarters. They are really old,” smiling woman pointed, “The new ones also work fast as they a hot setting.”

The laundromat virgin smiled and went on to the business at hand putting her two loads in. She chose carefully. She decided to put her intimates and tee-shirts in the front facing washer that had warm but no cold setting. She felt it was a sound decision until she spent a good couple of minutes struggling with the door that wouldn’t open. Number 20 didn’t seem to be a lucky number. She jiggled, turned, pulled, shook. Nothing seemed to work. She smiled sheepishly at the cute, scruffy guy who walked by. He was really cute, and she was loosing a battle against a washer. Pathetic. About to give up, she noticed the half faded instructions right in front of her. Push button. Turn Handle. It was sticking, but the door opened. She continued to follow the step-by-step instructions until she could see her striped pink panties tossing around. She decided to use her old standard white, top loader washer was the way to go for her brights load. Cold and color friendly. As she poured the detergent in and put her quarters in a family of four Asians marched in to the laundromat quickly holding at least 3 bags each, and continued in and back out to their van until 20 laundry bags full of linens,and clothes, they continued like an army to take over the place. The father pointed and loaded with the youngest girl, the mother poured in the detergent, and the eldest girl with her baking soda package full of quarters set the washers in motion.

The newbie, looked on wide eyed like a doe in head lights. Oh No. There were less dryers then washers. And that Asian family was quick. She had only started her loads about a minute before they had. She eyed her washers. It was mid cycle. She glanced at them circulating around the place.  She took out her book to appear calm and casual. She would pounce on her wash and claim one of the good dryers as soon as it as done. She wouldn’t be stuck with the quarter eater, or worse, no washer at all.

Film review: Snow Angels

The Concordian, Volume 25, Issue 25, March 25, 2008
Film review: Snow Angels

Dir. by David Gordon Green

By: Elisabeth de Grandpre

Snow angels are defined as depressions in the snow. Snow Angels, directed by David Green and based on the novel by Stewert O’Nan takes a raw look at the tragedy and joy of three intertwining couples’ stories set in a small snowy town.
Arthur (Michael Angarno) connects all the stories, as he deals with his parents separating, flirts with his old babysitter Annie (Kate Beckinsale) while she deals with her broken marriage, and starts his own relationship with Lila (Olivia Thirlby), the new nerdy girl at school.
Arthur’s story is the first focus, as we meet his parents, his friends, his love interest, but once we meet Annie, her story becomes the main plot. Arthur’s subplot is wonderfully woven in and provides light in what could be a much darker film.
Annie has recently separated from her husband Glenn (Sam Rockwell) because they grew apart. She tries to take care of their toddler Tara, while protecting her from Glenn, who has recently tried to kill himself.
Glenn tries to become a better father and husband by getting his life on track, but he continues to drink. Both Glenn and Annie struggle to be parents to Tara, depending on their own parents to pick up the slack.
The tension explodes when Glenn discovers Annie is having an affair with Nate (Nicky Katts), juxtaposed with Arthur’s innocent childhood crush on Annie. At the same time Arthur matures and starts seeing his parents as separate people with their own problems, and learns to stand up and communicate. These events all intertwine until tragedy strikes.
This film is full of strong performances, especially from Kate Beckinsale and Sam Rockwell. There is always an underlying tenderness between them, even in the most violent and tragic situations. Beckinsale is far from her usual blockbuster film and takes Annie on a hard journey, trying to make the right choices for her daughter. Olivia Thrilby from Juno fame as Juno’s best pal stands out as geeky-indie Lila.
The film’s images are poignant with the snow’s glaring white and the bright red of Michael’s band uniform. The snow traps its characters and isolates them along with the audience.
Snow Angels is reminiscent of Ang Lee’s Ice Storm (1997) with its ’70s tone, as well as the infidelity and violence behind closed doors.

Penelope will float your boat… if you like 13 going on 30

The Concordian, Volume 25, Issue 21, February 26th 2008
Penelope will float your boat… if you like 13 going on 30

Penelope will float your boat

. . . if you like 13 going on 30

Once upon a time in the 19th century, the Wilherns, a very wealthy family who wanted to keep their blood as blue as a blueberry, denied the marriage between their son and a lowly servant girl.

Unfortunately, the servant girl’s mother was a witch who cursed the family — the first girl born would have the face of a pig. Like most curses it has only one cure, to be loved by one of her own for who she is. Unluckily for Penelope (Christina Ricci), she is that girl.
She is hidden from the world by her mother Jessica (Catherina O’Hara) who orchestrates a matchmaking attempt by offering a hefty dowry to whomever will marry her daughter, snout and all, in hopes that the curse will be broken and her daughter will finally become the woman she was meant to be. Alas, the matchmaking attempt always results in the would-be-suitors running away at first sight.

The plot feels contrived because the snout is anything but grotesque. It actually comes off as cute, so it’s hard to understand why suitors run so quickly and so far. The film is set in a London populated by mostly Americans, and where one of the main locations is an Irish pub. Adding to the confusion is British actor Richard E. Grant (as Penelope’s father) who puts on an American accent, as does the Scottish James McAvoy, Penelope’s love interest. Although the trailer and many posters feature Reese Witherspoon front and center, she’s in a small role as a female friend. Witherspoon’s production company, Type A, was one of the film’s producers.

The film’s turning point is when a would-be-suitor (Simon Woods) manages to escape without signing a non-disclosure agreement, and goes straight to the press, where the only one to believe him is Lemon (Peter Dinklage), a hard-boiled reporter out for the story of his life. Enter the love interest, as they hire Max Campion (McAvoy), a broke blueblood, to get the scoop and pictures to prove Penelope exists.

Penelope is clearly a gender spin on Beauty and the Beast, as well as a story of girl power. Although charming and well-intentioned, that isn’t enough to keep this film afloat. Its constant positive messages of “beauty is on the inside,” “the world is beautiful” and “different is beautiful” were needlessly forced throughout the film, enough to make most adult viewers nauseated. It felt like it was trying to be a magical tale akin to a Tim Burton film or the television hit Pushing Daisies, but it falls short.

If you liked Ella Enchanted or 13 Going on 30 this might be worth the cost a ticket.

Bring back the Spice. The Concordian

The Concordian, Volume 25, Issue 19, February 5th 2008
Bringing back the spice

Bringing back the spice

The Spice Girls will give Montreal a second taste Feb. 24

The Spice Girls landed in Montreal last Thursday with their Return Of The Spice Girls tour. Armed with a great girl friend, home-made “What’s your Spice” t-shirts (mine was Ginger), and the golden ticket to make my way through the gate, I felt like I was about to time travel.

The Bell Centre was packed with 1,400 fans, mostly women and girls who weren’t old enough to talk when the Spice Girls debuted in 1996 with Spice. Security was high as we were admitted through the door around 7 p.m.

The stadium filled with eager fans as club hits boomed the sound system. Signs were being held up “Where is David?” and “Spice up our life!” professing the re-awakening of a fandom. The lights finally went down and the crowd was screaming and welcoming.

With all the pizzazz, glitz and iconic girl power that only they can possess, the Spice Girls rose to the stage looking like statues, adorned in gold costumes. There they stood larger-than-life. Posh, Sporty, Scary, Baby and Ginger. The return of the Spice Girls.
They started singing “Spice Up Your Life” and my inner 12 year-old was doing back flips while waving a glittered, furry pink baton belting, “Colors of the world, Spice up your life.” I was transported to a time when “Girl Power” was my mantra. Everyone was up on their feet.

The costumes were gorgeous and still reflected each girl’s individual personality. Gone were the cheesy, but classic 90′s outfits: Baby’s pink baby doll dresses, Posh’s little black dress, Sporty’s simple track suit, Scary’s skin tight body suit, and Ginger’s underwear-bearing tiny union jack dress and chunky red boots. In were designs by world famous fashion designer, Roberto Cavalli.

Cavalli’s designs updated the classic outfits while respecting each girl’s iconic style. Victoria Beckham was still Posh with a couture runway style. Mel B was a wild force in her skintight costumes. Mel C was sporty but sexy — still in running shoes. Geri Halliwell was still Ginger in a union jack dress that glittered under the lights. Cavalli graduated Emma Bunton from Baby Spice to “Classy Spice” with mod dresses and well fitted mini-shirts.

The music was better than ever and their vocals have matured and seemed to have more muscle. It is obvious that this tour is special to them, as the women beamed with positive energy and joy throughout the entire show. The song that evolved the most was “Mama.” This isn’t surprising since most of the ladies are mamas themselves. The tune being about their mothers and now being mothers themselves brought the song full circle, and transformed it from being a cheesy ditty to a beautiful, emotion-driven song.

Each Spice, except for Posh, delivered a song that highlighted their solo careers. Victoria Beckham instead worked the runway to highlight her role in the fashion world. Most surprising was Emma Bunton who sang her song “Maybe,” from her 1960′s-inspired album Free Me. Baby Spice performed with more power than most may remember her possessing.

The Spice Girls taught me what girl power was before I was old enough to watch Sex and the City. Dancing in place, singing in unison with my gal pal, and watching these idols of my past perform made me smile and beam. I remembered how that innocent perception of girl power was ever so wonderful.

The Spice Girls return to the Bell Centre Sunday, Feb. 24

The Void. kaleidoscope, n.

The Void Magazine.  Volume 6, Issue 3, February 2007
Kaleidoscope, n.
Kaleidoscope, n.

The kaleidoscope was invented in 1816. ‘Kaleidoscope’ was first used as a word in 1817 by Scottish inventor Dr. David Brewster in his patent for the object. He named it for the Greek words for beautiful (kalos) and form (eidos).  The -scope suffix comes from the Greek skopein – to see.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the kaleidoscope is as “an optical instrument, consisting of from two to four reflecting surfaces placed in a tube, at one end of which is a small compartment containing pieces of coloured glass: on looking through the tube, numerous reflections of these are seen, producing brightly-coloured symmetrical figures, which may be constantly altered by rotation of the instrument.”

Brewster originally designed the kaleidoscope as a scientific tool to test light polarization but when he noticed it’s enchanting patterns his instrument produced, he turned it into a toy. Brewster sought his patent expecting to get rich mesmerizing children. The kaleidoscope enjoyed an initial burst of popularity, but, for reasons unknown, the light-toy was soon relegated to the shadows.

The kaleidoscope-fad was re-awakened by American Charles Bush in 1873. Bush received the patent to improve the original model and created a parlor version which was mounted on a wooden stand.  But this optical toy faded into obscurity until it was resurrected once more by Cozy Baker who has been writing books on the subject since 1985, with such titles as Through the Kaleidoscope… and Beyond and Kaleidoscopes: Wonders of Wonder. Baker founded the Brewster Kaleidoscope Society in 1986 for kaleidoscope enthusiasts. The Brewster Society currently lists 133 kaleidoscope artists and boasts over 500 members.

The first kaleidoscope to be used in literature is the one in the second canto of Lord Byron’s poem, “Don Juan”:

“Our shipwreck’d seamen thought it a good omen –
It is as well to think so, now and then;
‘T was an old custom of the Greek and Roman,
And may become of great advantage when
Folks are discouraged; and most surely no men
Had greater need to nerve themselves again
Than these, and so this rainbow look’d like hope –
Quite a celestial kaleidoscope.”

In this article the word kaleidoscope is used 16 times.

–

Take a Walk on the Wildside

These articles can also be found at http://thelink.concordia.ca/view.php?aid=40336 and http://thelink.concordia.ca/view.php?aid=40333 respectively or on Link News stands this week.

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Taken to the land of the tales Grimm

The Girl With No Hands

By Elisabeth De Grandpré

The Girl With No Hands is a wonderfully woven tale based on the Grimm narrative of the same name that explores how stories are told and collected.The story of the girl in question is subtly yet powerfully performed through the movement of author and actress Talya Rubin. But the play isn’t just a simple re-telling: Rubin embodies a multitude of rich characters, ranging from the sometimes brutal comic storyteller to a Grimm brother collecting the stories. As she continues to weave deeper with twists and turns the play will surprise you, whether or not you’ve ever read the Grimm tale before. 

Accordion player Julia Kater accompanies Rubin onstage, creating a vivid score that surrounds the piece with an old European feeling, tugging it back in time. And Rubin’s command on the audience keeps you in that past.

The play has changed since its original debut in 2006. Director Jodie Essery and Rubin worked on refining the production and deepening the characters.

“Because it is such rich, dark, intense and beautiful source material, it took a few versions of refining to get to the story we wanted to tell and it is a wonderful opportunity to be able to do that at the Wildside [Festival],” commented Rubin.

Rubin worked with director Essery and lighting designer Paul Chambers to design the set. It is comprised of branches attached to chairs standing in for trees, along with key prop pieces. The lighting is sparse, allowing darkness to surround the action. The beautiful detail turns the Centaur Theatre into a forest, such as the shapes of what looked like the rounds inside tree trunks shining on the sidewalls.

This piece will move you, and make you laugh. If you enjoy fairy tales and their grim origins, make sure to catch this gem.

Letters from the war

“…and stockings for the ladies.”

By Elisabeth De Grandpré

The one-man show “…and stocking for the ladies,” is based on playwright Attila Clemann’s stepfather’s father Ted Aplin’s letters home during World War II. The story follows Aplin and the people he touched after the war while the Royal Canadian Air Force occupied liberated Celle, Germany.

Aplin’s tale tracks him taking a stand against his own government by helping displaced people at Bergen-Belsen concentration camp recover, instead of just occupying the country.

Actor Brendan McMurtry-Howlett, who is in his final year at the National Theatre School, performs this solo piece with to-the-letter accuracy. He switches characters and accents with such ease at times that one feels like the play is an ensemble piece with a multitude of characters. There are only a couple of instances throughout the play where one can’t be sure of McMurtry-Howlett’s accent, which throws off the actor’s otherwise electric performance. He makes captivating use of sallow-faced puppets—designed by playwright Clemann—to tell the stories of the displaced persons.

Lighting and sets are executed by Paul Chambers, a sculpture major at Concordia University. The set itself is decorated with a mix of crates and opened and closed luggage. The elements of the set weren’t always clear because McMurtry-Howlett generally mimed, even when objects were on the set. He does, however, use a real pipe when embodying Aplin. The old-time music of the ‘40s sets the pace and speed of the hour-long piece.

This WWII drama with bits of comedy spattered all around is sentimental, and although a strong piece of theatre, isn’t exactly wild. It’s a modern take on a period-war-drama. The sentimental genre suited the audience, most of which seemed to have experienced the war first hand.