Je Ne Sais Quoi: Beauty Begets Beauty

Hello friends, and Happy Monday! I hope you all had a great weekend! I did some shopping and gardening and baking, and feel fairly refreshed for this week, which is good because I have a lot in store for us (including another FREE GIVEAWAY and a NEW COLUMNIST!). But before all of that, I was thinking this weekend about one of my favorite all time movies, Strictly Ballroom. Have you seen it? It is quirky and absurd and full of color and romance. The story centers on the frumpy Francesca who transforms into a beautiful and graceful lady floating across the screen. Naturally there is an evil step-mother, some fancy ball-gowns, and a prince charming.

Apart from the dancing, which I LOVE with my whole heart...and dream of someday gliding my own slippers across a ballroom floor wearing diamonds and pink chiffon on the arm of a gentleman...

Ahem--as an aside, this will never happen because a) I don’t have the time or the physical stamina to learn ballroom dancing, and b) there’s NO WAY I could convince my husband to dance with me and there’s little chance he’d let me tango with another man...so I will have to continue living vicariously through Francesca...sigh.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes--apart from the dancing, the thing I love about the movie is Francesca’s transformation. Of course it is incredibly cliche to have a makeover scene in a movie (I can instantly think of at least another dozen films that have an ugly-duckling-turned-swan-story), but I just can’t resist the appeal. There is something so timelessly enticing about a woman who finds her strength, and then watching as that strength slowly transforms her appearance. Because it reminds me that beauty begets more beauty.

We all hear a lot about the value of inner beauty, and so I won’t delve too deeply into that here. But what I will say is that a woman blossoms when she discovers her special talents, or awakens to love, or overcomes fear. Her physical body actually comes alive. This, naturally, leads her to want to care more for her appearance, which just perpetuates her confidence. And the cycle continues, gaining momentum, until she’s too radiant even to look at (okay, maybe I’m going a little overboard here. That could get scary...).

The trouble, of course, is that we know this principle and yet don’t always apply it--especially in the reverse. The other day, for instance, when I was writing this, I was wearing a hideous combination of shiny acrylic pajama pants in a lime green, a threadbare purple shirt, thick wool socks, and my hair knotted messily on top of my head. It was four in the afternoon and I hadn’t even taken a shower yet. Why? Because no one was likely to see me that day. And perhaps because I was also hormonal and not “feeling very pretty.” And, if I’m honest, I was also a little frustrated that some of my plans weren’t working out the way I wanted, which might have been impacting my self-esteem a bit.

In other words, my appearance was reflecting my emotions. Now, I’m not too worried about having one shower-free-p.j.-day every once in awhile, but I know that I can’t make it into a habit. But the truth is that keeping up my outward appearance will help me to resist the lure of low confidence and hormonal tyranny--like an unlikely weapon to ward off unwanted enemies. Messy hair and shiny pants, however, have little effect on making me feel better. Because if beauty begets beauty, than you can be sure that blah begets blah. And I certainly don’t want blah taking over my life!

So what I’m trying to say in a roundabout way is that our emotions and our looks are intricately linked whether we admit to it or not. And though this link isn’t exact science, I’d rather just acknowledge the principle and invest in beauty--both inside and out.

Starting with throwing out those lime green pants.

What do you do to ward off the blahs? Share by posting your comment below!

Je Ne Sais Quoi: Don't Quit Your Day Job

For a special Friday treat, I thought that I would do some experiments in looking sultry using Eva Mendes as my tutor.

Lesson One: "the sexy mouth." Lips parted, teeth showing. Eyes with that "come hither" look.

...I'm pretty sure that if I looked at anyone with this expression, they'd get very uncomfortable and suddenly find an intriguing spot on the floor to gaze at until I left the room.

Eva--you have your work cut out for you.

Lesson Two: "the romantic, windblown gaze." This is the look you need when standing beside the ocean watching your prince charming approach on a white horse. Epic, sweeping music would be playing the background. Things would be in slow motion.

Or...in my case, this would be the part in the scene when my mother appears and tells me to get my hair out of my face and to close my mouth because I look like a moron.

Lesson Three: "the vixen."

Oh my. There aren't even words. Evidently I need more practice. WAY more practice.

Eva--is it a bad sign when my husband starts laughing so hard he has to brace himself with the chair just to stay standing?

And here is my sultry collage. Every glamorous shot, all lined up in rows.

Ahem...I think I better keep my day job and leave the sultry for Eva.

And I can stick to more appropriate, authentic poses. Crinkled eyes, gummy smile, dimples.

Authentic is more je ne sais quoi than sultry, anyway.

Happy Friday!
--steph

Je Ne Sais Quoi: Strong

Could you imagine if someone had the audacity to suggest in this day and age that having je ne sais quoi was about a woman’s body? As if presence was all about a nice figure, or a seductive walk, or a thin stature, and not about inner confidence and strength and character. Could someone be so foolish?

Well, yes. I could.
It is true. I, indeed, have the audacity to say that an alluring presence is about the body. Or at least partly about it, anyway. This isn’t, I know, a fashionable idea, but before you judge too hastily and swear to never come back, I invite you to hear me out.

You see, I’ve been learning a lot recently about my body. Not in an anatomy-kind of way (by age thirty, I’m pretty well acquainted with all of that!), but in a body-spirit kind of way. Like how they’re connected, with one influencing the other and vice versa. It is a very, very simple concept, and yet somehow I managed to forget it.
Forget it until about a month ago when I felt like I needed to make a change in my life. I needed a different daily routine and a new outlook. And I didn’t know where to start until I was praying for wisdom one day and felt like I needed to move out. Not move out metaphorically, but actually, physically move out. As in take my body out of my chair, away from my desk, and out of my front door.

You mean, I asked, my physical body actually makes a difference? The answer, it seems, is yes. Although the work I do online, and with words and ideas, and in conversations with others, is important, I had overlooked an important truth: my body supports my spirit. And when my body is too stationary, too immobile, too weak, my inner spirit grows stagnant and also weak.
Perhaps this sounds a bit woo-woo, but I assure you it is entirely practical. We express ourselves through our bodies all the time--through our movements, our body language, our appearance. Think, as an example, of a woman you know who exemplifies je ne sais quoi. I’d bet my house that her movements are captivating--that they draw attention.

And so, in our pursuit of this mysterious inner strength and elegance, I want to challenge us to start with our bodies. If you are feeling weak, than pick up some weights and literally build some muscle. If you are feeling dowdy, than try dancing. If you want to feel liberated, find a nearby swing and fly. If you want to feel happy, try skipping. Of course these movements won’t radically alter your circumstances, but they can impact your spirit and the presence you exude in the company of others.

So, yes, je ne sais quoi is about your body. So get moving.

What do You Picture? (defining je ne sais quoi)

By it's very definition, je ne sais quoi is...well...hard to define. It's an elusive quality; difficult to pin down in exact words (hence the reason we use the phrase in the first place).

As such, it often means different things to different people. And so, before continuing any further along with this series, I thought it appropriate to assign a little homework.
The homework is this: I want you to spend some time over the next day or two thinking about what you envision when you hear "je ne sais quoi." Is it the timeless classic attraction of someone like Audrey Hepburn? Or the allure of the vintage female? (Certainly these are my first thoughts, but I'm a mid-century kinda girl...)

Or maybe instead you see someone like Hilary Clinton or Oprah Winfrey. Perhaps even your idea of mysterious appeal is in the form of Rhianna or Beyonce.
Whatever it is, I want you to think about why you are drawn to these women and images. What qualities attract you to them? Is it their look? Their lifestyle? Their career? Their talent?

To help you in this quest, you might consider browsing through a handful of women's magazines to see which people and photos you like most. And then ask yourself why you like them.
And please feel free to share what you find! I'm partial to the bombshell above from Mad Men, but far be it for me to determine what je ne sais quoi means to you! I'd love to know who and what you're picturing during the next several weeks as we dive further into the subject of "the hard to define."

First thoughts? Ideas? Post your comments below!

Je Ne Sais Quoi: not Finished, but Enough

I’m a big fan of the glossies, as most of you already know. Somedays, when I just want to relax, I’ll head to the local bookstore to drink a hot tea and flip through the tabloids and fashion magazines at my leisure. I’m rather ashamed to admit that I take voyeuristic peeks into the lives of celebrities--and I like it. And I scour the fashion pages even though I know they’re exacerbating my urge to consume in excess. And I read the fitness sections as if they’re somehow going to motivate me to actually leave the bookstore and go for a jog (they never do...). I even like the silly quizzes, though I don’t mark them up in the store (because that’s just rude).
But one thing I’ve recently been noticing about all of these glossies is that they’re always trying to get me to improve myself. Whether it’s the 5 simple steps I can take to eat healthier, or the 10 secrets to making me a dynamo in bed, the underlying message is You Can Do Better.

Now, the truth is that I could do better. And I have to admit that part of me appreciates the encouragement and motivation. But once the gloss wears off, it just starts to feel like A.Lot.Of.Work.
And so I wonder--do the women who possess the elusive je ne sais quoi have some kind of secret self-improvement regimen that the rest of us don’t know about? Or are they maybe just more successful at implementing all of these earnest suggestions and check lists that line the pages of women’s magazines?

Somehow I doubt it--on both accounts. My suspicion is that actually the women with je ne sais quoi have mastered something else entirely--rest. They aren’t striving for perfection, but instead are resting right where they are. And this is why we are attracted to them.
I’m learning that there is a great chasm between a spirit at rest and one that is striving. The latter is driven to always improve, always grow, always advance, while the former says "I could improve, but I’ve done enough for now."

...Yes, I could fold the laundry while talking on the phone...but this conversation is enough.
...And Yes I could wake up twenty minutes earlier and squeeze in a workout, but my weekend walk is enough.
...And Yes I could be better in bed, and better at correspondence, and better at cooking, but Damn It! I Am Enough, just as I am.
Not perfect, not finished, but Enough.

Imagine what that would feel like. No wonder there’s just something about a lady like that.

What do you think? Have we gone too far with the self-improvement, or do you find it genuinely helpful? Share your thoughts below!

a Little Sparkle for your Morning...

Not so long ago, when I was in my early twenties, I spent some time in counseling working through the garden variety issues that come with the “coming-of-age” angst. And among the many things that I remember my therapist saying to me, one of them has always stood out. Stood out because it perpetually annoyed me. She used to say--and say often--”now remember, Stephanie, you’re a human Being, not a human Doing.”Now this “human being not doing” saying is fine to ponder on quiet walks and during deep discussions, but as I mentioned, it always annoyed me. Annoyed me because...well...it’s just not that practical. The truth is that what I Do is a big part of who I am. Transcendent self-awareness aside, I can’t very well spend my days just “being.” My husband, for one, would probably not appreciate my “being” when--say--a huge stack of dishes needed some devoted “doing.”

What I’m trying to say, in a nutshell, is that frankly I have too much to do to concentrate on just being.
And so it was with a familiar task-oriented mind that I took another “reflective walk” yesterday morning. The beauty of a clear, chilled, snow-covered prairie had certainly made an impression on me, but not quite enough to press out from my mind the mountain of things waiting for me at home.

And then I came across some tall grasses. I had passed them already on the first leg of the walk without notice, but upon coming back they caught my eye. Caught it because they were dazzling. On top of their generic stalks were these magnificent crystal clusters, sparkling radiantly in the morning sun. It was like the whole prairie was covered in diamonds--decked in splendor for no particular reason on a boring Monday morning.
As I stopped to snap some photos (that regrettably did not turn out), it occurred to me that these shining gems were not practical at all. They were just beautiful. Granted prairie grasses aren’t normally troubled by the mounting to-do lists that we humans lug around from day to day, and therefore have more leisure to be unexpectedly lovely, but still...
...Still they reminded me of those annoying counseling sessions and how my therapist always felt the need to prod me Away from all my earnest doing. And while her attempts, and mine, are generally futile most of the time, every once and awhile I remember that beauty is at least as important as efficiency and to-do lists.

And so, under the influence of my co-conspirators (the therapist and the prairie), I've concluded that a little sparkle is good for me every now and then. It won't make my to-list go away, but it reminds me that efficiency isn't always the healthiest habit for me. Diamonds, however, are healthy indeed.

Now if only I could successfully convince my husband of this fact...

A Reflective Walk

 

In the spirit of yesterday's recentering, I decided that today I would do something I haven't done in a very long time, which was to walk one of my favorite trails.

It was probably the best decision I've made all winter.  The air was so refreshing and the dark gray clouds of a cold front rolling in set an almost magical quality to the skyline.  My soul must have desperately needed the openness--the feel of chilled wind on my face--because I felt like I was drinking in freshness.

 

This feeling of freshness is a bit ironic considering the last time I was on this trail.  The truth is that I haven't walked here in almost exactly a year.  I remember the last time like it was yesterday.  I had just finished up an appointment with my doctor where she explained ever so plainly [I'm paraphrasing now] that my husband and I had better chances of winning the lottery than conceiving a child.  

It was news, you can imagine, that has profoundly impacted the last year of my life.  And it was news that was anything but fresh.

 

I mention this for a number of reasons.  One is that a lady is equal parts elusive and vulnerable.  And today I'm practicing the latter.  And two is that it is an important part of my story.

And that story is one of a long season of dormancy.  Like the grasses and trees from these photos taken on my walk, I have spent the past 2+ years resembling a barren prairie.  Oh yes...I know that this lovely blog has begun to show the pale pink of bloom, but it has taken many, many months to get here.

 

And really what you see now are just the early buds--a hopeful promise of what is to come.  Many of my dreams for this little online space are yet to blossom--still waiting for their figurative spring.

 

And also waiting for figurative spring is my family--my chance to be a mother as well as a wife and writer and creator of pretty things.  This endeavor I'm afraid I have less control over, but it is a piece of my heart nevertheless.  And it encourages me that one year later, on this very trail, I was able to feel freshness and openness instead of the crushing weight of sorrow that I felt when last I tread here.

So, I suppose my first 24 hours of "freshening up" for a new season have been fresh indeed.  So fresh, in fact, that I've made a decision to return to this trail as often as I can during the next several weeks.  Because I want to witness day-by-day what it is like to come out of dormancy.

And maybe I'll see it happen for me, too.

le boudoir (and le reality)

My husband was giving me grief the other day, threatening to create a "shadow blog" about the "real life" of Stephanie Hillberry. The life where I don't make my bed for days, and where I stay in my pajamas until noon, and where I serve queso and chips for dinner three days in a row.

I threatened to sue him for slander.
But his little joke did get me thinking about Valentines Day and romance and all the hype about being sexy.

Sexy like these ladies above and below in their slinky knickers.

Oh how I wish it was true that I really did live a life in delicate lingerie.
But this, my friends, is the life I really live about 95% of the time. I do not go to sleep and arise in satiny glamor. No...I go to bed in stretch cotton. And white athletic socks. And I wake up with disheveled hair ("disheveled" is putting it nicely) and a splotchy complexion.
Every now and then I try to modify my habits. I put on a pair of frilly shorts and try lacy panties for a few days. But eventually I always end up in the ubiquitous flesh-colored undergarments that women praise for their practicality and men lament for their serious lack of sex appeal.

(as an aside, my thesaurus actually lists "bootylicious" as THE "informal" definition of sexiness. What is the world coming to?)
But oh to be like the woman above. Even her hair is sultry. And her baby doll nightie isn't at all childish. Granted even she probably doesn't look like that when she gets up...but she certainly earns points for trying.
This, however, does not earn points. I mean, even if you could add a couple for the ruffled detail on my tank top (which is admittedly adorable), you'd have to immediately subtract them away for the excessive use of baggy gray flannel. Subtract even more for the threadbare quality of my very dated yoga pants and I'm well into the negative.
Poor, poor husband. If only I secretly wore these under my baggy gray flannel. I can only imagine the frills and the thrills.

After all, it's not like I don't own a few numbers like this, tucked away in my lingerie drawer, buried under piles of cotton panties and sports bras. I could, I suppose, pull them out for use on days that fall outside of February 14th.
It would probably even make me feel good. More ladylike. More demure and alluring. More captivating and feminine.
And less....so, so much less...like this.

Glossary of lovely knickers, courtesy of Etsy sellers:
1. french fancies in the parlour babydoll by gilda pearl
2. sassafras - altered vintage slip (xs) by which goose
3. floral cotton shorts by daileedose
4. same as #1
5. watercolor bralette set by clare bare
6. sandmaiden rayon and organic cotton jersey lacy pantie - made to measure by sandmaiden sleepwear

Gracious

note: all of these lovely images (in pink!) are from online vintage shop owner, Thrush.
Being gracious is certainly one of the attributes that I immediately thought of when I started devising the content for this series on being a lady. The term, of course, refers to kindness, politeness, and esteem.

When I think of graciousness, I immediately picture the women from Jane Austen’s novels--at least the heroines (because goodness knows there were quite a few malevolent vixens in her novels as well). They were always complimentary, seeking to be of service, ready to be kind.
This behavior, fortunately, is not extinct. In fact, I’d wager that you are all highly gracious, or at least try to be that way most of the time.

But there is one area of graciousness that I think we as ladies often do rather poorly, and that is the art of graciously receiving from others. I hadn’t thought of this until an acquaintance and friend of mine recently brought it up. Since then, I’ve noticed this fault on numerous occasions.What do you mean? you ask. Well, I’ll give you a scenario:

girl 1: Oh, I love your outfit today.
girl 2: Ugh...thank you...I just threw it on this morning. I feel so fat today that I hardly even care what I look like.
Sound familiar? If not, consider this scenario:

guy: Babe, you look great today. Did you do something different?
girl: What are you trying to say--that I don’t look good normally?

Is that closer to home? And how about this one:

boss: This project turned out great. You did a wonderful job.
girl: Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. So-and-so did so much of the work....It was really more of a team effort.
Do you see what I mean? We deflect esteem. We dodge favor. We pass off compliments to others. We are often self-deprecating to a fault.

So, if any of those scenarios sounded familiar to you, I’m assigning some homework, which is to practice this:

friend: Hey--you look nice today.
you: Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.
THEN...resist the urge to: a) make a snarky comment about the size of your thighs, b) complain about how much your outfit cost, c) avert attention from yourself by talking about how fabulous someone else looks, or d) saying “well...I’m no Heidi Klum, but...”

Instead take a deep breath, and graciously receive the esteem, because that is what a lady would do.

Glossary of beautiful vintage clothing/jewelry by Thrush:
1. vintage 1970s goldtone necklace
2. pale pink box blouse
3. pale pink mini dress
4. vintage 1950s pink shimmer holiday party dress
5. bowtie secretary blouse
6. vintage 1960s holiday ruffle dress