The Year of Covid and Cavill

     Today I am celebrating the one-year anniversary of my affair with Superman.  Yup, it was on this day one year ago that I entered into a deeply committed relationship with dreamy British hunk, Henry Cavill.  It's true I don't actually know Henry Cavill, and he certainly doesn't know who I am, nevertheless, over the past 12 months we have become very close.  In fact, I can say with certainty that Henry Cavill, almost singlehandedly, has gotten me through a year of political angst, social media addiction (sort of), and pandemic isolation.  

     Now, for the record, I'm fully aware that I am one in a legion of Cavill fans, numbering in the millions.  However, it's of interest to note that one year and one day ago, I had never heard of Henry Cavill.  As with most love affairs, it began innocently enough.  I was just a clueless Netflix member who wandered into a new series titled "The Witcher", when our eyes met across my living room rug.  I won't detail what happened next here, but if you are interested, I wrote a somewhat lengthy blog about the early days of our relationship back in February titled "Adventures in Instagram...or How Henry Cavill Ruined My Life".  The abbreviated version of this blog is how my determination to master Instagram collided with the massive social media presence of a Hollywood sex symbol.

     Then came March and Covid, and what had been a fun, brief flirtation with fandom, became a virtual lifeline in the months of isolation that followed.  Oh sure, I had books to read, masks to sew, every television streaming service you can name, hell, I even resorted to puzzles and organizing every closet and cabinet in my house!  But, truth be told, it was Henry's handsome face that got me out of bed every morning.  Before my coffee was brewed, before MSNBC's Morning Joe, before checking my email or taking my blood pressure medication, I scanned the internet for anything Henry.  Had he posted anything new on Instagram?  What was Netflix saying about the filming of Witcher Season Two?  What photos of Henry were the countless fan sites posting?  Over the course of the next seven months, I, occasionally, commented on his posts, wrote blogs about his cooking and home decor, became Facebook friends with a few fellow fans, and even paid tribute to his beloved Kansas City Chiefs with a custom cookie.  I'll stop short of admitting that I was obsessed, but I'm pretty sure I could kick ass in a Henry Cavill trivia contest.

     The real test of the bond between me and Henry came during the presidential election.  My anxiety over the political drama playing out on my TV and, basically, the fate of my country in the balance, had me wondering if my affection for HC could endure as my distraction safety net.  The Netflix movie, "Enola Holmes", with Henry playing the role of Sherlock Holmes. had gotten us over the hump in September, but filming on Witcher's second season had resumed and, presumably because he was busy working, there were no new posts or fan sightings to report.  Just as I had resigned myself to going it alone, there he was on Instagram, jogging around some lake on location, all smiles and muscles and slightly breathless British accent.  And, as if on cue, the sun came out and, somewhere, church bells were ringing (actually, I know where, because I live two blocks from the church). 

     And, that brings us to today, Sweet Henry, our one-year anniversary.  Of course, like all torrid affairs that burn red hot in the beginning, ours was sure to cool off with the passage of time.  Now, instead of my little heart skipping a beat over a photo of a stray curl falling across your forehead, I see recent photos of you and think, "Gee, he looks a little tired, I hope he's getting enough rest", and "For God's sake, Henry, put on a sweater, you'll catch your death!"   Yes, Henry, we've officially moved into the friends zone, but, I'm completely certain I couldn't have made it through this past year without you, and for that, I am your devoted fan.  In the words of our divine goddess, Dolly Parton, I will always love you.

XOXO,

Sally

P.S.  The traditional one year anniversary gift is paper...just sayin'.

P.P.S. All kidding aside, this has been a hard year for us all, Dear Hearts.  I am wishing you all a happy and healthy holiday season and looking forward to a brighter future for us all in the new year.  Much love, SEH.

Read My Lips

 

     To my delight, I found out today that Revlon has kept several of its signature lipstick colors, from as far back as 1951, in their product line.  One of the colors they have continued producing is the color worn by my mother, and maybe your mother or grandmother as well, Cherries In The Snow. 

     My mother did not wear makeup.  By that I mean she did not wear foundation, rouge or eyeliner on a daily basis...but, she never left the house without applying lipstick, and that lipstick was 'Cherries In The Snow'.  Revlon introduced this lipstick color in 1953 as a compliment to its nail polish of the same color.  In fact, apparently Revlon pioneered the concept of matching polish and lipstick colors.  'Cherries' is a lush, saturated pinkish/red color that compliments all skin tones and has been the staple lipstick of women for 60 years.

     Over the years, this popular lipstick color has been worn and touted by many famous, and infamous women, including diverse names such as poet Sylvia Plath, supermodel Dorian Leigh, and burlesque star Dita Von Teese.  Leigh is featured in the Revlon ad above.  As one of the "most photographed" fashion models of her day, she is also credited with being the inspiration for Truman Capote's iconic character from Breakfast At Tiffany's, Holly Golightly.  Today, there is a fascination with all things Mid-Century Modern, fueled by television shows such as Mad Men and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, both most notable for their attention to detail regarding the era.  It's no surprise therefore, that the uber-fashionable Midge Maisel character recommends 'Cherries In The Snow' lipstick to her cosmetics' counter customer in one episode.

     Historians date the practice of lip coloring back to Ancient Mesopotamia and biologists suggest the enhancement of lip color is a way of signaling sexual arousal to potential mates.  I think Revlon's 50's ad copy for 'Cherries In The Snow' says it all:

Does any man really understand you?

Who knows you as you really are?  Does he?

Who knows the secret hopes that warm your heart?

Who knows the dreams you dream, the words you've left unspoken?

Who knows the black-laced thoughts you think while shopping in a gingham frock?

Who knows you sometimes long to sleep in pure-silk sheets?

Who knows you'd love to meet a man who'd hold your hand and listen...while you say nothing at all?

Who knows there was a morning when your orange juice sparkled like champagne?

Who knows the secret, siren side of you that's female as a silken cat?

     Can a lipstick convey all that?  I'm no expert, but I did choose a lipstick color as close to that worn by my mother for my wedding day and I'll be damned if I leave the house without at least a dash of gloss!  You be the judge, Dear Hearts.

XOXO,

Sally

Super Curtains

Superman, Henry Cavill, broke the internet last week with an Instagram video of himself constructing a complicated PC gaming console.  I'm quite sure the video would have gone viral with gamers alone, but the Barry White soundtrack and Henry's trademark, muscle revealing, blue tank top made it a media sensation.  For five minutes we watched him painstakingly read instructions, scratch his head, read more instructions, and install and reinstall what looked like a lot of expensive parts.  Day moved into night, then back to day and finally...success.  And there were those curtains.

@henrycavill/Instagram

While fans and gaming geeks world-wide went ape-shit over Henry and his "equipment", there was also a small contingent of followers who focused on the pretty, floral print curtains behind Henry's desk.  I was squarely in that contingent, mainly because I have no idea what a gaming console is, nor do I care.  I will fully admit to admiring Henry's physique, although I have "issues" regarding tank tops (that's a subject for another day).  So within seconds of watching the video I found myself distracted from the lovely Henry by the lovely curtains in the background.

@henrycavill/Instagram

Now, I was on a mission.  For the next several hours I searched the internet for the curtains and/or fabric.  As you can imagine, a traditional, English, floral print is very popular and a decorative mainstay for probably 200 years.  Predictably, after exhausting all my investigative skills I came up short and although I found many similar prints, the exact print eluded me.  I came to assume the fabric was that of an English manufacturer, but I had no idea how to begin exploring those companies.  I gave up my search and was prepared to turn in my Nancy Drew Girl Detective i.d. badge, when a Reddit post popped up on my screen and the mystery was solved!

Credit: Honeysuckle by Colefax and Fowler

A scrappy young woman named Sarah Woolley had found the curtains!  I wasted no time replying to her Reddit post, commending her on her investigative prowess.  As it turns out, the fabric is a traditional English print from an ages old English manufacturer, Colefax and Fowler.  Sarah is English as well, in fact, she is a writer and researcher based in London, according to her website, sarahwoolley.com.  You can go to linktr.ee/SarahWoolley to find out Were To Buy Henry Cavill's Curtains.  If I had her address I would send her my Nancy Drew badge. 

Summertime

     I have always fallen in love in the summertime.  I first fell in love in the summer of  1969.  His name was Ted.  He was from Wichita Falls and only in town for the summer.  We met at the pool, scantly dressed in our swimsuits, bronze from the sun, smelling of Coppertone and chlorine.  Our days were filled with chicken fights, card games, bike rides to 7-eleven for cokes, family barbeques, and homemade ice cream.  When the sun went down we would wander onto to the golf course next door, freshly showered, our skin lightly sunburned, in shorts and halter top, jeans and white t-shirt.  We kicked off our sandals, the grass cool and damp under our feet, the Texas air still hot without a breath of breeze, only the moon and stars to illuminate our path.  Ted held my hand with such a sense of purpose I felt feminine and protected.  It wasn't until the third or fourth night he found the courage to kiss me.  We talked and talked, and kissed and kissed until the sprinklers on the golf course came on and I had to get in before my curfew.  At 14, I was oblivious to the power I wielded over that sweet boy.  I only knew everything we were experiencing was new and we were experiencing it together.  Ted remained my long distance sweetheart until our junior year.  The summer before our senior year we both found new summer romances and willingly set each other free, tucking our love letters in the back of a dresser drawer.

SEH

Remembering Rachel

     When I was 31, I received a package in the mail from my mother.  It wasn't my birthday or any holiday, and I wasn't expecting a package from her.  Sitting cross-legged, on the living room floor of my French Quarter apartment, I tore off the brown paper wrapping, removed the box lid, and pushed aside several layers of tissue paper.  The faint scent of my mother's perfume wafted up to my nose as I pulled my mother's treasured fur stole from the box (Chanel No. 5...only for very special occasions).  Giggling with surprise and delight, I wrapped the stole around my shoulders and was instantly propelled back in time to when I was a little girl, sitting cross-legged on my mother's bed, wrapped in her stole, running my hands over the soft fur, watching her get ready for a nice, night out with Daddy.  I can see her luxurious, black hair pinned high on her head, red lipstick, and her favorite red chiffon cocktail dress with the spaghetti straps and the full skirt, perfect for dancing.  A dab of the Chanel behind each ear and, with that final touch, I had to relinquish the stole.

      The stole had been cut down from a coat of my grandmother's.  The fur is jet black, which complimented my mother's hair, her name was embroidered on the silk lining, and it wraps fully around your body with an Edwardian collar designed to look dramatic when pulled up around the face or drooped off the back (very Audrey Hepburn).  The fur is the softest you can imagine, short with a kind of luster.  I didn't know at the time what kind of fur it was and had never seen any other like it.  Not long after receiving it, I wore it to a Mardi Gras ball.  As I was standing to one side of the dance floor I saw an elderly lady making a beeline for me from across the room.  When she arrived at my side, she ran her hands over the stole and informed me it was beaver.

     My mother's life wasn't an easy one, but her stole reminds me of what was surely some of her happiest times.  Little did I know when I received it, I would lose her just a few, short years later.  Every so often, like today, I will take out the stole, wrap it around my shoulders, hold the soft fur against my cheek, and run my fingers over her name.  I still inhale deeply, longing for a whiff of Chanel, but it's my perfume that I smell in its soft folds now, reminding me of some of my happiest times.  It brings me comfort all the same.

Happy Mother's Day, Dear Hearts


   

Isolation Egg Wisdom

The other day my phone beeped with the Instagram of a famous person posting a photograph of a loaf of bread they had baked.  They captioned the photo, "Isolation Loaf".  A few days later, this same person posted a beautiful photo of a pork roast titled "Isolation Roast".  Coincidently, that same day I had boiled a single egg for tuna salad.  Now, full disclosure, I don't really cook much, but, like every properly brought up Southern girl who is expected to bring a lovely plate of deviled eggs to any gathering, I am well versed in the art of boiling the perfect egg.  This egg was perfect, but this egg was not one of a dozen destined to grace my antique deviled egg plate.  This was an "Isolation Egg".  A metaphor not to be ignored.

SEH

Adventures in Instagram...or How Henry Cavill Ruined My Life

So how did British actor Henry Cavill ruin my life, you ask?  We'll get to that later, but first, I must tell you about my 2020 new year's resolution.  In addition to my annual resolutions to learn French and take up tarot card reading, this year I made the decision to expand my understanding and utilization of social media.  Lately, I've become disenchanted with Facebook, which has been my lifeline to the world beyond my doorstep for God knows how long.  I knew I had ridden that horse as far as it could go and it was time to graduate from the home school comfort of Facebook and enroll in the scary public school of Instagram.  As many of you know, I am semi-retired and work part-time in the peaceful, solitude of my cozy little apartment.  Sitting daily in front of my laptop, I was painfully aware that I was missing the opportunity to expand my digital world and explore new social media frontiers.  I determined that mastering Instagram would be the vehicle for my maiden voyage into the open sea of the world wide web.

Now up to this point, I had only used my Instagram account to view the photos of the three friends I followed.  Although I was truly intimated by the platform, I was determined to master something most five-year-olds could navigate with ease.  With the help of Google ("how do hashtags work?"), a few YouTube videos and much trial and error, I dove right in.  First, I had to actually learn how to use my smartphone.  It was pretty rough going at first, but soon I was posting photos, videos, and other fun stuff.  I was having a great time and that's when Henry Cavill came into the picture and it all blew up.

But, before we get to Mr. Cavill specifically, let me share my views about celebrities in general.  Now, I get a kick out of seeing someone famous as much as the next person, but I've never really been a "fangirl".  I lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans for many years which was a little like living in a perpetual movie set.  I nearly ran over Clint Eastwood with my bicycle, I've sat on my balcony watching Paul Newman film on the sidewalk below, given Blythe Danner directions to her hotel, and waved to Kevin Kostner and Oliver Stone every morning for months on my walk to work.  The Quarter was and still is, a destination for famous writers, athletes, actors, and, of course, world-class musicians.  In all those years, only once did I initiate an encounter with a celebrity...I regretted it immediately.  When the 1986 Super Bowl was held in New Orleans, I had the good fortune to attend one of the big NFL gala dinners.  When I took my seat at our table I noticed that legendary quarterback, Bart Starr, was sitting at the next table in the seat closest to mine.  I was so excited and I knew my Dad would never forgive me if I didn't take the opportunity to meet him.  I decided that asking for an autograph was the best excuse for approaching him.  As inconspicuously as possible, I slipped out of my chair and sidled up to Bart's chair.  As I should have anticipated, being a gentleman, Bart stood up when I appeared at his side.  He politely introduced himself, shook my hand and then proceeded to introduce me to everyone at his table, who turned out to be his wife and their adult children.  Ashamed of my intrusion, I got my program signed as quickly as possible and scampered back to my own table, but it was too late, the damage was done.  Before my butt could hit the chair, women from all over the room were headed towards him.  I don't think the poor man sat down again for the rest of the evening.  As his steak grew cold on his plate, all I could do was catch his wife's eye and mouth "I'm so sorry", to which she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.  I swore I would never do THAT again.

So, I hear you say, "Sally, that's all very interesting, but where does Henry Cavill fit into this story?  And, how did he ruin your life?"  I'm glad you asked.  During the Christmas holidays, I kept with my tradition of curling up in my comfy jammies with a cup of eggnog and indulging in some serious television binge-watching.  At the top of my binge list was this new Netflix series The Witcher.  OK, don't judge me, but I had never heard of Henry Cavill until I watched Witcher.  I KNOW!  Exactly how big is the rock under which I live?  According to all my friends, under the age of 40, a large, very large rock.  I'm not embarrassed to tell you, I was completely captivated by this man's performance and his ridiculous good looks (not necessarily in that order).  In fact, I had to watch the entire series twice.  I was so distracted by Geralt, I completely lost the plotline during the first go 'round.  So, of course, I googled him.  I'm not really a superhero or action movie fan, so his filmography explained how he had escaped my notice.  Frankly, for women my age there are three unassailable movie pillars...the only James Bond is Sean Connery, the only Batman is Michael Keaton, aaaannnd, the only Superman is Christopher Reeve.  Watching Cavill's Superman did not shift any of those paradigms for me, but he definitely gets an A for effort.  I even girded my loins and watched The Tudors.  Let's be real, the life story of a misogynistic, sexually abusive, toxic narcissist king was hitting just a little too close for comfort, but I focused on Cavill's character and soldiered through.  I took in a couple of his other movies as well  (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. was my favorite...stylish and witty, Cavill and Hammer are a man-Twix bar of deliciousness).  I know this all sounds a little obsessive, but in my defense, I just have way too much time on my hands. I figured I now had the complete 411 on Monsieur Cavill, then I remembered my social media new year's resolution and wondered, "Is he on Instagram?".  And, Dear Hearts, that's when my little, insulated online world exploded and I found myself in an alternate universe.

Of course, he's on Instagram!  I realize how very naive this sounds, but, I was not prepared for the sheer volume of online engagement that could surround one person!  I was also not prepared for how quickly this cynical, sarcastic, old broad could get swept up into it.  Cavill is a master at keeping his fan base engaged online.  He posts something on Instagram pretty much daily, and the responses to each posting often number over a million.  He is quite accessible online via Instagram, Facebook, various websites, and his fans are crazy in love with him! There must a team keeping this engine going.  It's really impressive.  So, just for fun, I commented on a couple of his posts, in my usual, not so serious, way.  Suddenly, I was being followed by people I did not know, from all over the world, and some sending me messages and requesting to friend me on Facebook.  Then there were all the Henry Cavill fan sites or trolls or bots...I don't know what or who they were, I just knew I was now completely out of my comfort zone, in over my head, and starting to panic!  Yes, for a hot minute, Henry Cavill had ruined my life, but, he had also served to propel me, most unexpectedly, into the social media world I was seeking.  So, thank you, Henry.  I'm going to bravely continue my online journey, but, I'm currently not bothering with any other major movie stars.  I'm all yours, Henry, unless Sean Connery is on Instagram, then we may have to break up.

Cheers,

Sally

Meanwhile, back in Abbeville...

Gosh, I can't believe it's been over a year since my last blog post.  Sorry, Dear Hearts, it's been a busy year and the time has flown by.  I woke this morning to the bells of St. Mary Magdalene church just three blocks away.  The temperature is a crisp 34° and the leaves are all gone from the giant, old pecan tree next to the house, so the ringing is louder than usual without my leafy buffer.  I was reluctant to leave my warm bed, but the bells told me it was time.  Now I have my coffee and the South Louisiana sun is slowing warming up my room, so let me pour you a cup and let's catch up.

Firstly, my health has been much improved this past year and I'm really grateful for that because I have several friends who have had some really tough health challenges in the past months and I have been able to be of some help to them.  I have managed to lose some weight and, with healthy eating, realized some significantly improved health numbers.  Knock on wood!  I intend to stay committed to my game plan in the new year.

Life in Abbeville remains a fun adventure.  My neighbors are still as cool and kooky as always. Neighborhood gatherings have included backyard movies projected on the house next door while the kids ran all over the lawn, a super cool house concert, and Brooke's annual "Femme Fest" where I met some truly bright and beautiful women.  Trust me, the art of meaningful conversation is alive and well on S. Jefferson Street's shady porches and cozy kitchens.

My theater exploits were especially rewarding this past year.  I was in two productions last year, one was a comedy with Acadiana Repertory.  My character was an uptight office manager with a drinking problem (can you say typecasting?).  The other was a revival of a production I was part of two years ago, "Still, Life...Women of the Bold, New Old With Tales to Tell".  I love this production and the women in the cast.  It was an absolute joy to reunite with them to bring the production to the community theater here in Abbeville.  It was even more meaningful that this revival was a benefit for the Council on Aging.  The last three productions I have had the privilege to be a part of were all original works, performed for the first time.  Two of the playwrights are local women.  It is incredibly rewarding to be a part of bringing life to the works of these talented playwrights.  Joining Acadiana Repertory Theater has been a life changing experience.  Working and playing with all these talented people has brought so much into my life.  A couple of weeks ago I was asked to join their board of directors.  Hopefully, my marketing and fundraising experience will make up for what I lack in acting talent!

Well, I guess that brings me up to date.   As for the tumultuous days ahead of us in these divisive times, I am keeping the words of Maya Angelou in mind, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." 

Happy New Year, Dear Hearts,

Sally