i am pretty nyc a makeup and beauty site by Kim Weinstein

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Welcome Home

kim | 28 June, 2005 21:23

Today, after almost two and a half years of not working on one particular show, I returned. Just to fill in. I was met with such warmth, it was so great to be back. This is a land where freelancers have sort-of job security and some benefits, but through a different channel.You belong, but you don't. Anything can be revoked at any time, but there is a lioness who protects your job, tooth and nail. It had been a long time since I had been met with such with love, true respect and admiration. I left that job to go into something completely different. Although I did so to support my book, it was one of the worst professional experiences of my life.

I am not sad that I left my beloved job, in a way. I was working with one of my favorite people in the world, the crew was the nicest I'd ever worked with and I loved my close co-workers. But I shared a room with a prickly person and the hours sucked ass. Also, I needed to expand my horizons. I felt stuck in a rut and I needed to fly the coop. Most importantly, I got pregnant and could no longer work full time, go to acting school and gestate.

Now, I seem to be in the full swing of things, fielding phone calls twice and three times a day - can I pick up this shift or that one? I had to turn someone down for a job recently that would have me working from 7:00 am one day till 11:00 at night, and then 6:00 the next day. I had to say no and then my hours were modified so I could come in and help.

I am suddenly blessed with an embarrassment of riches in the entertainment business while I had been trying to work with private clients more. Who knows how this Universe works? All's I know is that I am tired and I have to turn around and do it tomorrow.

Pilates is happening. The food is becoming more sane. Now, I am going to have to try to write my novel in the most unconventional way? - one word at a time, perhaps not all those moments strung together cohesively.

In other news, I got spam-spewed tonight. Like, hundreds. Spam people should be ashamed of themselves. I think they must smell really bad and have greasy hair and big pizza faces. You know?


Back in the Reclining Chair Again

kim | 27 June, 2005 09:50

There are a few things more boring than doing certain shows at certain times in certain places. Counting pennies and rolling them up, making patterns out of ceiling tiles while at the dentist. Lifetime Television shows. Yes, there are few things. So why, then, can't I get more done while I'm there? A malaise sets upon me and my limbs get heavy, my mind gets gooey and I end up watching a shamefully bad Arnold Schwartzenegger movies because I can't change the channel to what I really want to watch because they took away the clicker. So I watch it.

This happened before: I ate what they gave me, I watched what they showed me, and I did makeup the way they told me. Boring. I've been trying to do something new and have been really enjoying it, but when the building and the network is so big, they are hard to argue with. So I'll go in and they can plug the module in the back of my head and I will be a smiling robot for the 4-8 hours I am there.

(said with robot arms and monotone voice) How may I help you today?


The Truth About Moms and Models

kim | 24 June, 2005 20:28

Recently I did a casting for a model for an upcoming project. You may or may not see it on my website in the future.

Did I mention that I'm a working mother? It's so heinous how I work - really, really short spurts, housework on top of or under my day and juggling a million errands in between. The kid doesn't even want me to talk on the phone anymore.. I try to get everything in there. It's so horrible. Noah's about to dump me, check that - he already has, but I'm in denial about it - but I think I can make this all work. I mean, aren't we all working mothers now? Isn't the world set up to accomodate the sea of excellent humanity we're ushering in to Save the World? Does is really have to be a 10 hour work day? Why not a 6 hour work day? If you don't frick around too much, you can get it done. I'd rather go home early then wait for my cappucino at 4:00. That's why I don't do commercials, baby, even though the pay is incredible.? I can't spend that much time away from the kid; especially since his babysitter is cutting back her tiny hours that she already barely gives me. Okay, that I barely ask for. But I want to juggle it because I actually have physical pain in my gut if I'm away from him for too long. I mean, some time is nice, but I brought him here, I owe it to him to stick around a little. Plus, he's so cuddly.
?
So if you were a model and you came into a house with toys all over the place, you'd probably walk all over them, too, with your filthy street shoes and get microscopic particles of blood and dog shit all over the playmat of a kid who puts everything in their mouth. And, if you knew, you just knew in your heart that you weren't getting this stupid, crappy job that was casted in some stupid, fat makeup artist's house, I would step on the kid's stuffed animal, too. Just to make a point. Just to make that mom work extra hard and have to mop up the floor when her eyes were searing because they were open and so that she'd have to do a load of laundry the next day at 7:00 am while she's lugging her precious 32 lb. kid around. That'll teach her.

Or maybe she was stereotypically flakey. Either way, models are meeting me in a coffee shop from now on.?


Coach, Put Me Back In

kim | 23 June, 2005 21:07

I'm going back in. To a scary place. To a place I've been before...television. Yes, folks, going back to the professional world for brief periods of time here and there. I've already got two gigs lined up. Never has there been a time that I yearn more for private clients than the thought of going back into television.

I will not name names, so don't think I will. I will not describe scenarios until it's after a grace period and then I will supress recognizable facts.

For example: I worked somewhere the other day. A colleague used an air brush. I (curse word) hate air brushes. They make people look like teddy bears or the doll facsimile of themselves. Yeah, it works for tv, but I don't think that well. Plus. they are so toxic. I think people who paint with air brushes on paper wear masks. Because there are microscopic particles of paint that land happily and easily in the scilia of the air brusher's lungs. But I guess masks a) don't look cool and b) don't inspire confidence in the method and, finally c) the people using them probably haven't thought of it. But the woman's makeup - meaning the way the makeup artist did the makeup was beautiful. She's a really amazing artist; she has done it every, single day for the last 10 years. The thought of that makes me want to choke (the atomized makeup in the air notwithstanding). I realized today that I am a commitmentphobe. How do you do the same thing in and out every day and get better at it; but change at the same time? How do you grow if you're standing in the same place all the time? I guess plants do it.

Writers, too.?


What Lipstick Would Tony Soprano Wear?

kim | 22 June, 2005 20:14

Here is a secret I will share with you: if you feel like you're not having your best day, put on some lipstick, smooth your hair back and pretend that you are Tony Soprano. Don't act like Tony Soprano! But unleash your inner bad ass and ask him to take over for a few minutes while you step out back to lick your kitten paws. I wish someone told me to do that this morning. I was not really at the top of my game. Bummer.

And for those of you who care to know: this is not a site devoted to, a user group designed around nor am I a defender for or against the doodlebops. I do not give a shit about them and now that they've changed their time slot, they are even less relevant. The sad fact of my life is that those two posts get the most comments, and the comments keep pouring in. My search string is all about the Doodlebops. There's even gay bashing comments, which is totally uncool. Like people google the Doodlebops so they can leave anti-gay epithets on my website. My beauty website.? People offended that I said that they are over the top and their makeup is scary. Please, people, do yourself a favor: at Blogger? you can set up a FREE WEBSITE - please do so and then devote your own time, energy and resources creating an online love letter to a children's show. Please. This is a makeup and beauty website run by? a woman who takes private clients. It's also America and I'm allowed to critique a show if I want.

Thank you, and good night.




Gee, My Hair Looks Terrific

kim | 21 June, 2005 22:02

I try to space out my hair color between jobs. Not that I only work once every six weeks, but I try to make it fall right before an important job. Tomorrow, freelance crack of elbow job. Love it. Happy to be doing it. So early, though. I love television. I love the drama. I love the deadline. I love the payoff. I love it.

I also love private clients and I'm going to start booking one a week. Just so you know. That's the plan. So sign up before I'm booked, baby.

The hair would have looked slightly better tomorrow if the kid had not fallen on his face in the middle of an Esther William's style sprinkler system in a playground we never go to. What am I supposed to do, say, "suck it up, kid. Sorry you're less than a year and a half, but mommy's hair looks fabu and she needs to continue to look fabu for tomorrow." My hair curls in unruly ways the nano second it is exposed to water. And Kirsti did such a nice blow out today. Boo hoo. In other news, how cute is the kid that he romps around screaming and laughing in the water? I would definintely walk around with a Jew-fro anywhere for that.

In other, other news, I'm over pink lip gloss. I'm into sheer tawnies and sheer reds for the mouth and cheeks. If anyone knows where I left my girlhood, you can email me at kim@iamprettynyc.com. But I'm not pining for it too much, I am enjoying being a woman.


Mozilla is Pretty and Random, Slightly Boring Beauty News

kim | 20 June, 2005 22:30

My computer was dead and now it is alive, in part because of my tech guy Adam (who should teach math to all math-phobic women and girls - he's my tech god) and the other part because Noah told me about Mozilla Firefox. Now my computer is alive and I love it. I was so scared.

In beauty news, I just found out that the kid is probably allergic to soy. I am so nervous to simply revoke his formula, I was trying to make an easy transition for him but I also want to alleviate his full body rash that he's had for the past six months immediately. So, tomorrow it's almond milk blended with bananas. I'm so sick over this, I might not be able to sleep. I met this groovy nutritionist in the health food store, Natalia Rose, who wrote the book The Raw Food Detox Diet, as I was muttering to strangers that my son won't eat anything any more. She happened to be a nutritionist and I'm all about that kind of nutrition. She's so moderate, though, that her plan sounds palatable. I am going to call her crying tomorrow about the baby. You watch and see. I haven't had that much amazing luck in my life but that was a nice one from the Universe. Thanks, Universe.

Also, today I got blasted with that filthy playground sprinkler water because the kid can't stay out of the sprinklers. He will stand in there with his head cocked until his teeth are chattering and his lips are blue. I had to take off his fancy sandals and let him walk around on the cold, filthy, wet ground. But to see him so happy - who could deny their child this in the summer? It was completely impromptu but I happened to have a change of clothing so that was nice; but I got sprayed and my hair, which was blown out, got messed up. It was a happy accident - the ends got all funked up and now I finally understand my new hair do! I'm glad I do because tomorrow I'm going to get it colored and Kirsti is going to kick my ass for having it cut, not by her. But I will be able to justify the coolness of it now. Sometimes all it takes is an errant romp in the sprinklers to show you where your real beauty lies.


Heat and Art and History

kim | 15 June, 2005 08:19

Yesterday I was taking the kid to a museum because the heat was unbearable and he is sick. Again. My doctor assures me that he is not immuno-compromised; that kids get 10-14 colds a year. We are speeding toward our quota but have not met it yet. On my way to the museum, I saw?my Early Renaissance Art History teacher from college. Art History was my minor and?although I would have really loved it to be my major, you're really nobody in Art History unless you go to Yale, you're of college-going age (as opposed to a "returning student"), being blonde doesn't hurt and your daddy should be somebody. I was older, going to a public college, there is no iteration of blonde that would really suit me and my daddy is nobody. I mean, he's a zero?plus being a?nobody and we're not even in touch - but that's?a different blog entry.

I would have said hello but I forgot her name. Even so, at a public college you get zillions of kids and this was, what - at least a?year or two ago that I finished college,?so I'm sure she wouldn't remember me. But I remembered her: she?did not possess natural beauty nor?was she?able to capitalize on her tall stature with a meager diet so as to maintain a slender silhouette - in a word, she was large and not that good looking. However, she made up for her visual shortcomings with a lovely Italian wardrobe. Nothing fancy, just perfect pieces that hung on her frame and did not skim one roll of fat. Matte jerseys and gaberdines and such. Her shoes were always interesting but?comfortable yet stylish and she wore these great black cashmere shawls, as you would imagine she would. She didn't have that much hair, but she styled it beautifully in a dark blunt cut and wore?a matte red lipstick. And her voice was beautiful - like a comforting but authoritative mother, so it was amazing to listen to her. Not unlike Kathy Bate's voice, if Kathy Bates was teaching Art History in a city-funded college.

In yesterday's heat, she was positively expiring. Simply melting. Her dark hair ,which had gotten gray, was clipped behind her in a sloppy-ish pony tail?and her mouth, nay, her whole face was in a disgusted, upside down yuck of an expression. However, she had the cleverest ochre handbag that was covered with circles in the same leather and color. She walked down the street in a modified sashay, somewhere between a Geisha's small steps and the swishy sexual confidence of a young debutante.?Other than her face, she was the picture of composure. I imagined that her father left her gobs of money and her mother taught her how to make the best of herself with that money. She was quite a regal picture walking by, suffering along with the rest of humanity.

It just goes to show you, it's not what you get - it's what you do with it. Go forth and?create the best you that you can with all the scraps that God, your momma?and your daddy?gave?'ya.?


My Hope for HDTV

kim | 13 June, 2005 12:33

HDTV is coming. Perhaps you?read the small article in the Times Magazine. I've been thinking about writing?on?this subject for some time.?So?here's what I think about it:?good. Bring it.?

HDTV is stupid in many ways: who cares if the football looks more like a football??What's the point of that? Because it's the actors and actresses that are going to have the problems.?Once we realize that everyone is not perfect, that?we all?have lines,?wrinkles, blemishes and some of us actual warts, fans are going to freak?out. We are a society obessed with perfection in unrealistic ways and we cut ourselves open and shove things in or take things out of our bodies; we chemically burn our faces; we add toxic ingredients to our livers and brains via our skin and hair, for what? For more money and power, because that's what it comes down to. What's going to happen to all those celeb magazines??Is the entire entertainment industry going to??be replaced with 12 year olds?What will happen to James?Woods, Edward James?Olmos and Brad Pitt??

So what if HDTV showed us that we are not immune from the human condition? That age, gravity and humanity are all a part of life and we take it easy on the bleaches, the acids and?the scalpels? Instead?of escalating looking good like it was an arms race maybe we could start getting some self acceptance around here rather than working for money to mutilate ourselves.

Or maybe more people would just start going to the theater to get away from being so close to everyone. That would?be really cool, too.?


How Many Hairdressers Does it Take To Get the Right Hair Cut?

kim | 11 June, 2005 21:53

Three. The answer is three.

One to brilliantly color your hair, but not really cut it that much and maybe convince you a little to keep it long even though you're thinking of a change for summer. It's sexier when it's long she might convince you. She should be here every day to hold the kid since he's afraid of the blow drier so you have to hold him in your lap while sitting on the floor, bent over, keeping it on the super-hot setting, but blasting him with the cold air button now and again when he requests it. With no mirror because you are as low to the ground as you can be without laying down.

But then you do really want it shorter, like a piece-y blunt cut that you had years ago cut by someone who was more proficient at cutting hair than she was at being nice. So you moved on from the girl, but then there were kind of shitty cuts after that.

Then you happen to work with someone one day who is willing to cut off the four inches but doesn't really finish the bottom properly but she tries to pretend that it looks good by using the ceramic flat iron to flip it out.

Then, exasperated, after having left a message by hand for your son's haircutter who has blue toenail polish and dots of white bleach oddly placed around her brown hair and not having your call returned, you drop in on her and wait a little while and get a pedicure before you sit down in her chair. Micro manage every strand that she pulls between her index and middle finger. Ask her if she's sure that she knows what you mean. I mean, because we all have language, but how do you know what I'm saying and meaning ends up being what you're hearing? You know? Ever try getting your point across to a guy? You might not be convinced when she's done - ESPECIALLY because of how she is blow drying it, so wrest the loud, hot machine from her hands along with her round brush and blow it out yourself. Convince yourself that it looks okay even if now all of your back fat is really exposed. If only that front piece would grow.

When you get home, investigate beauty schools and do the math for going to school to learn to cut your own goddamned hair.


The Beauty Jungle

kim | 10 June, 2005 11:23

?Makeup artists are sharks, snakes and bitches and I always prided myself on not being predatory. Lord knows, I've been preyed upon. It's so devastating. I've had the job ripped from me like my protective fur and limbs in cruel and gang-like ways as the other animals not directly involved with the links on my?food chain have stood on the sidelines and watched me go down. As my herd separated themselves from me and watched the bloody display, all that dust kicking up and the quick and spectacular tumult of limbs leaves bystanders feeling pierced, it's that brutal. I've?been?eaten?by my own and it's?ugly.?I'm more like a scavenger, happy to pick up the scraps of someone else's kill. Hey, uh, anyone eating this meat? No, you all done? Okay, guess I'll dig in. Thanks! I would not like to benefit from the misfortunes of others. I want nobody to have misfortunes. But if there is a sick and dying animal?on the dusty plain -?can I circle around and see how long it will last before it expires?How ethical is that? Or is it just the law of the jungle?


Beauty Faux Pas - Case Study #1

kim | 09 June, 2005 22:47

Witness the woman: she is blonde, with curly, un-blowdried hair hastily put back in a rubber band. See her pants? They are pressed and her shoes low and sensible.?Her smallish white sleeveless summer sweater?billows ever so?slightly around her?torso, so she seems smart in regard to her food intake. But her makeup is undone and although she may have taken a shower, it doesn't appear that way. She may just be the type of woman that always looks like she has a dirty face. True, it's a million degrees outside, but she has that slimy film on her face. Undereye circles are her problem. They are dark, but more so, they are deeply grooved. She will need a few products. And she TAKES THEM OUT ON THE BUS. First, she applies T. LeClerc powder on her face with her FINGERS from the COMPACT and then rubs it in her face with her FINGERS. If you can believe that. Then, she takes out a brush, did I mention we were on the bus? The express bus? - and dabs what I can only imagine is Laura Mercier Secret Camoflauge cream under her eyes, although she has not mixed it with anything, which is a preferable move. Then, she takes out the Stila concealer and applies that with her finger. This was all before 9:00 am. So what I'm saying here is, lipstick? Fine. Powder? Sure! A quick peek at the parsely in between your teeth? Better for the rest of us. But a full application of heavy duty concealer in 27 steps or less? I don't think Miss Manners would approve. This is just one of the beauty faux pas I saw today. I will keep you updated.

Happy Birthday, Joan Rivers!

kim | 08 June, 2005 21:22

Joan Rivers is the walking, mummified poster party girl for the plastic surgery industry. I am not a fan of plastic surgery. But I am a fan of Joan's and I'll tell you why: she has guts. She's been through millions of iterations in Hollywood and has kept going. Do you know how hard that is? Worse, she's done it antagonizing people all along. And even if she hasn't made a joke of herself out right, there is a certain ridiculousness to how stretched and pulled she has become. She's got to be in on the joke, no?She who made a living off of telling Elizabeth Taylor jokes. She who has made a living scrutinizing every errant underarm hair of every celebrity. Clothing designers, hairstylists, aestheticians and, especially, makeup artists owe a debt of gratitude to that dusty old broad. You know how old she is? 72. And you know how old she looks? 72. Just stretched, pulled and glossed 72, but come now, really Joan. It's obvious. But just like our inappropriate aunt, we'll put up with you. Because you're funny as hell. Or we remember with fondness when you were.

Morning Gig

kim | 02 June, 2005 21:47

This morning I went to my some time morning gig, at the crack of - er, elbow and did a little thing I like to call makeup. I have said before, I love working early and I love working. I?so miss the morning grind of working in tv: the cameraderie, the thrill of seeing your work on?national television, the?free danish.?It's a great organizing principle and to be able to do makeup at the crack of - er, elbow starts my day off right. Additionally, I was lucky enough to?receive a free? hair cut in what was supposed to be a slightly sexy manner but now I look more mom-ish than ever before. Further, I spied a chubby German man giving me the hairy eyeball the other day. To wit: I seem to have left my sex appeal on the delivery table. Oh, well. I have my two men now: my husband is still attracted to me and the kid is over the moon in love with me. Today I feel like a slightly frumpy, but?lucky, chyck. That's feminist for chick.

Mom/Save the World Post - Nothing About Makeup In This One

kim | 01 June, 2005 08:34

Yesterday I took the kid to the playground. I may have mentioned how much I hate the playground. I am no social politician and kids can be mean and although the moms can be nice, where I live, not so much. The sprinklers were on and there's nothing the kid loves more than some water comin' down. So, of course, I let him go under despite the fact we had no change of clothes and his shoes could have gotten ruined and he had a ball. I'm always in favor of fun over propriety. There were, not suprisingly, a bunch of obnoxious older kids controlling the spray, getting it all over me and their friends and loads of screaming. It was really fun for him although some of the older kids screaming was a little startling for him at times. And then there was this one girl who was in her bathing suit, sitting on a full pail and splashing the contents into the area that she was sitting over the pail into. Er, her crotch. I thought, well, I guess that feels good to everyone, trying not to judge, but really being uncomfortable. Then she ran around, and came up behind me and?nestled into?me?and I felt slightly honored. Kids, I wanted to say to whomsoever would listen, they feel safe with me. But then her nanny tapped me on the shoulder. Don't worry about her, she's artistic. Autistic.

And then I saw it, the flapping hands, the focused but far away look, the barrelling through people, the lack of awareness or I should say lack of connection to her surroundings. I was impressed that she could be around all those other kids in a full playground. I was impressed that her mother let her out of her sight. Then I thought of my friend Kyra, whose son has Aspberger's Syndrome, which is on the spectrum of autism?but not as severe. Fluffy can relate to his world and he's verily a genius, but socially, he's not interested. There is something about?not being able to decipher?faces and what they do?that makes them very scary and so he prefers not to socialize with anyone. That's not exactly it, but it's a version of it and there are, of course other aspects - the not sleeping which has had Kyra awake almost around the clock for a lengthy four years. But she loves her son and she's not a depressed person, so she is dealing with it in the most pro-active, positive, hopeful way I could ever imagine anyone dealing with anything. She barely has any?time for herself and yet she manages to write, garden, make jewelry, to crafts projects, stage political?events. I can't imagine it. If I had her circumstances, being who I am, I would be crying non-stop, trying to figure out how this was my mother's fault. She is just a stronger, sunnier person than I am. I wanted to go up to that nanny and ask for her parent's number and see if they were doing all the things Kyra is doing for her son. If they were doing all the research, changing her diet, giving her enzymes and vitamins, taking her for the many different kinds of therapy, putting her in the best possible care. I started crying in the park for her,?fully?understanding the circumstance of having a child that cannot connect to?other kids.?Here I have this kid who, so far, is pretty normal. What am I ever complaining about? I saw her strength, her courage, her beaming love, her brilliance. You just never know what people are going through even though you might be seeing them through it. Empathy can be theoretical or it can be experiential. I have innate empathy, but until I saw this little girl, I really could never understand what my dear friend is going through.

Nobody gets off from this life without any bumps and bruises (except for the kid, who I will be encasing in glass very soon, so nobody can hurt him or I will have to kill them).? I think to some degree or another, we all need comfort. Or maybe not. Perhaps some of us just need more stuff. But I'm more in favor of a human connection. Please, please, don't let people down when they need you most. Reach out to someone else today. Really imagine what it's like to stand in the shoes of someone who is in pain. In Judaism, it's called Tikkun Olam, and it means repairing the world. That's what you can do to make it all really beautiful today.



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