And now a break from our regularly scheduled blogging to pontificate on my eyebrows. What the heck happened to them and when did they become so unruly? Every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror these days, it seems like half of one of them is pointing in some odd direction (particularly down). I'm afraid this is only the beginning. You know those wiry overgrown grey brows that some older gentlemen start sporting perhaps sometime in their 60's? I'm hoping when I see those I'm not looking at my future.
Oh, things used to be delightfully rosy back in the day. I had soft, thick Brooke Shields brows, untouched and in need of no grooming. These brows run in the family. My cousin Guy had what we all called "the Guybrow", a thick unibrow that extended all the way across the top of his nose. I remember the day everything went awry for me. I was 19 and had gotten my first film gig in a short set in the 40's. A few days before shooting began, the director sent me to a hair dresser for a more period cut. When I arrived at the salon, Scott, whose outspoken fondness for all things Joan Crawford should have been my warning, declared, "Oh, no, no, no! Those brows have got to go!" The 40's was a time of thin line eyebrows and my natural garden was a dead give-away of my place in history. I tried to protest, but he pushed me down in the chair with a nonverbal "Pluck you, Girlie! You're mine now!" So, he waxed and plucked the hey hey out of them. And they never grew back to their former splendor.
A sad, sad tale. Armed with my tiny eyebrow brush fashioned out of an old mascara wand, I try to fight the daily battle, but I am losing. Do me a favor. If you ever see my crazy brows pointing every which way, nonchalantly wet your finger and smooth them out for me. This tender act of kindness will earn you much good favor...
Oh, things used to be delightfully rosy back in the day. I had soft, thick Brooke Shields brows, untouched and in need of no grooming. These brows run in the family. My cousin Guy had what we all called "the Guybrow", a thick unibrow that extended all the way across the top of his nose. I remember the day everything went awry for me. I was 19 and had gotten my first film gig in a short set in the 40's. A few days before shooting began, the director sent me to a hair dresser for a more period cut. When I arrived at the salon, Scott, whose outspoken fondness for all things Joan Crawford should have been my warning, declared, "Oh, no, no, no! Those brows have got to go!" The 40's was a time of thin line eyebrows and my natural garden was a dead give-away of my place in history. I tried to protest, but he pushed me down in the chair with a nonverbal "Pluck you, Girlie! You're mine now!" So, he waxed and plucked the hey hey out of them. And they never grew back to their former splendor.
A sad, sad tale. Armed with my tiny eyebrow brush fashioned out of an old mascara wand, I try to fight the daily battle, but I am losing. Do me a favor. If you ever see my crazy brows pointing every which way, nonchalantly wet your finger and smooth them out for me. This tender act of kindness will earn you much good favor...
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1 comment:
Have ye not experienced the wonder that is eyebrow gel? (Or even the emergency hairspray on a toothbrush?) Speaking as a chick BORN with a unibrow--both are miracles. As is a good old-fashion eye-brow pluck and trim if done by the right person. That of course is the rub. You can end up with eyebrows that are waaaay too short and sparse if you are not vigilant. It's daunting. I'm personally so freaked out about brows that I cart in a headshot of myself sporting the 'correct' eyebrow style so the practitioner can match my brows to the photo exactly. Can we say 'control freak?!?!?!' Hey,there's always Anastasia of Beverly Hills --she is famous for brows. FAY-mous.
PV
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