Beauty 411

Mascara: Which brand works the best?

I’m a little biased when it comes to mascara. There are essentially only 2 brands that I consistently run to when I want my eyes to take center stage (Clinique High Impact Mascara and Lancôme Definicil High Definition Mascara). But I thought that I would fulfill my blogger duties and try a few other brands to see how they fare.

The Body Shop: Super Volume Mascara
My product savvy sis loves mascara and informed me that The Body Shop had a good, affordable product. Since she is “the connoisseur of beauty products”, I trusted her judgment and went out to buy it.

I wore it a few times and I liked the way it looked. My eyes stood out and I didn’t need to put a lot of product on for it to be noticeable. Since I have short, thin lashes, I looove anything to that gives them an extra boost. The Super Volume Mascara definitely delivered on their promise.

Urban Decay: Big Fatty
With a name like Big Fatty, I expect a lot from this mascara. I expect long, flirty, whimsical lashes that will capture any suitor’s eye. Okay, perhaps they can’t do all that, but I do anticipate having super long lashes.

I wore it one day to work and it didn’t really have a dramatic appearance. It looked like I was wearing my everyday mascara, not anything special. I wore it a few more times and applied tons of product to my lil lashes, just to give it one more chance. It still looked just okay.

This mascara is fine, but promising big fat lashes and not delivering—not good!

Yves Saint Laurent: Volume Mascara Effet Faux Cils
Even though this is a luxury brand, I still had no idea how it would look. Sometimes higher priced items are just that…and not necessarily the better product.

However, with just one teeny, tiny stroke, I was able to see that this was a great product. My lashes were elongated and looked hot! I didn’t have to put much on to have beautiful mysterious eyes.

It didn’t get clumpy and it virtually took seconds to apply. This mascara will be added to my “gotta-have” list.

Hope that helps you find a mascara that meets your needs…I know I did!

michelle

What song reminds you of the summer of ’08?

Summer is practically a distant memory now. No more BBQs, no more tropical drinks, and no more taking time out to soak up the sunshine. Sorry y’all, but fall is upon us!

When I start getting a little down about the impending harsh Canadian winter, I grab my iPod nano and I listen to a song that completely reminds me of my summer of 2008. I listen to Forever from Chris Brown.

Forever is one of the multitude of songs that Chris Brown released this year. However it is the one song that captures all the joy and bliss of summertime.

I love the pop-y techno feel of this song. Its cheerfulness and youthful exuberance makes me feel completely invincible and yearning to live each moment to the fullest. The song is equivalent to a summer fling! Okay, no I didn't have one....but I came real close!

I love this song because it's carefree, fun and incredibly fun to dance to. And that's exactly what I like in a summer anthem.

-Michelle

Hey, check out what Christine loved…

In Toronto, fall arrives early…and it's usually followed by rain, frost, snow, and sometimes, if we're especially blessed, locusts. But this isn't a rant about how crappy the weather in Toronto is, though
we all know it is. What this is really about is what I turn on when I want to hold on to the last dregs of summer sunshine and warmth. After much internal debate and a few hours of staring at the wall, I had a moment of epiphany. If there's anything that's going to remind me of the summer of 2008, it's Usher's "Love in This Club."

I'm sorry to report that other, more notable hits by Rihanna, T.I., Coldplay and Leona Lewis just didn't do it for me. Arguably, "Love in This Club" is standard Usher fare, but that doesn't mean it's not
good. From the lethargic, measured backing beats to Usher's smooth vocals, "Love in This Club" evokes a feel-good mood and sexy vibe synonymous with summer. It's something to listen to whether you're chilling at the pool with friends or hitting a club to find some lovin' of your own.

But as much as I adore "Love in This Club," an honorable mention goes to Ne-Yo's "Closer," simply because Ne-Yo has finally managed to put out a song that I actually like. Not quite R&B, not quite dance, "Closer" incorporates the best of both worlds and throws in a plucky guitar to boot. It's hard to throw this on and not want to hit the dance floor like you're one of the extras in the Pussycat Dolls.

But while there were many choices from this summer, the song that will always stand out as my anti-summer '08 track is Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl." With a bold (and loud) throwback to stomping beats of
yesteryear, "I Kissed A Girl" is not an inherently bad song (have you heard the Jonas Brothers lately?), but its pervasiveness in the pop cultural landscape, not to mention its faux-lesbian posturing – which
would have seemed audacious twenty years ago – renders it completely annoying. As if it weren't bad enough that Tila Tequila was awarded her own show, we now have another bastion of manufactured sexual revolution better left on the production floor.

But just as there are mosquito infestations, bad tans, and ill-advised Speedos in the summer, you gotta take the good with the bad.

-Christine

Okay, you've read which songs remind us of summer. So what was your summer anthem?

First Look: "90210"

Yes, I admit it. Tonight, I hunkered down in front of the television for two hours and watched the premiere of the new “90210.” I cried with glee when the new, showy opening credits flashed across my screen. I wept with joy when Kelly and Brenda had their reunion at the revamped Peach Pit and made amends. I cursed the high heavens when Dixon, the principal’s kid, was wrongfully accused of starting a fight on the lacrosse field and was denied a spot on the team. And I gushed when Ty, the hot morsel of sensitive, feminine hunk, whisked Annie away to dinner in San Francisco.

OK, so none of that happened. But I did surprisingly enjoy the back-to-back episodes of the teen drama. What can I say? I’m a sucker for spoiled teens with unlimited wardrobes and shinier hair than mine.

Here’s a first look at the major players:

Hi, I’m Annie, the anti-Brenda Walsh. How do I know? For starters, I’m really, really nice and have no discernible bitchy side that I’m itching to unleash. And my brother isn’t lame Brandon! But anyway, I love to do the right thing, and I’m probably the nicest teenager you will ever see on your screen. But since I’m from Kansas, you know that makes it harder for me to understand the intricate life of Californians. Like, I would never, ever in a million years think that someone would actually plagiarize an old paper that I gave them because they have to hand it in the next day. The nerve! But really, I’m not stupid, just painfully gullible. But don’t feel sorry for me – you know I’m going to get more action than anyone on this show.

Hi, I’m Dixon, Annie’s adopted brother and confidante, although I’m not a very good one since I’ve managed to blab one of her big secrets by the halfway mark of the first episode. My current role on the show is to make playing the game of lacrosse something cool and desirable to status-hungry teenagers. I have some hang-ups about being adopted and being the principal’s son, but I’m sure that will never come up in future episodes. If you think you’ve seen me in harder edged, more critically acclaimed work like “The Wire” and Half Nelson, you’re mistaken.



Hi, we’re Harry and Debbie Wilson, the hottest parents to ever grace prime time. How did we raise a teenage daughter and manage to tap into the spring of eternal youth? Even we don’t know.




Hi, I’m Naomi, the rich, spoiled bitch who always gets her way. But wait! That’s not the only side of me. Let’s see…everyone thinks I’m an airhead and I have an inferiority complex because my older sister goes to Harvard. My boyfriend can’t stand me and has to cheat with one of my best friends to get the point across. And I’m pretty sure there’s going to be something about my dad being a two-timing dog that will make me more relatable. Just stick around, I’m sure the layers are coming.

Hi, I’m Ethan, probably the blandest, most passive leading man you’ve ever seen on your television screen. I’m supposed to be a hunk, even though most of the time I don’t seem to have a backbone or need other people to tell me right from wrong. I sometimes cheat on my girlfriend, but that’s only because I don’t know how to tell her that I want to break up with her. I’m kind of into Annie, but since I seem to be pretty much of a wuss, that will take another season or two to resolve. But on the bright side, I have awesome teeth. Oh, and I surf sometimes.

Hi, I’m Erin Silver. Yes, that Erin Silver. The one that used to poop on-screen and provide Kelly with an alibi every time she hooked up with Dylan that one summer. Anyway, I’m a teenager now, and only go by Silver (don’t know you know first names are so passé?). I’m generally angry and blog about it, but underneath my stylish emo exterior, I do have a soft, gooey middle. Just don’t try to find it, or I’ll kill you.


Hi, I’m Navid, the cool AV guy (no, it’s not an oxymoron) who will one day go on to become the next Eli Roth. I’m apparently Dixon’s only friend, but that’s because he appreciates the irony of life like I do. I don’t do much at the moment, but my dad is a porn director so that alone makes me much cooler than anyone on this show.


Hi, I’m Ryan Matthews, the young, hip English teacher at West Beverly. I don’t know why I teach…I don’t seem to particularly like children or want to be around them, but what the hey, it does get me an audience when I want to rant against consumerism or the spoiled brats I have to see day in and day out. I’ll tell you one perk that teaching does have: it gets me one step closer to Kelly Taylor, who is one hot guidance counselor.

Hi, I’m Kelly Taylor. Yes, the one and only! I’ve given up my super-fabulous life as a fashion designer to counsel the future leaders of America. I have a four-year-old son and I’m not sure how he got here, but hopefully the producers will tell me when they figre it out. After years and years of Dylan’s brooding and Brandon’s wishy-washiness, can you blame me for wanting to be single?



Hi, I’m Adrianna. I don't know why I’m billed as a secondary character since I’ve got so much going on: I hang out with the cool kids and rule school drama productions even though I’m secretly a drug addict with a deadbeat mom. Sounds like prime material, no? It must be the hair.






Hi, I’m Brenda. I’m trying to be nice, but a small part of me is dying inside.





“90210” is obviously fluff (but a strangely satisfying one), and I’m actually keen on seeing where the producers will take this show. They’ve already given me something to look forward to with these memorable lines:

“Are you breaking up with me?”
“I’m breaking up with us.”

Welcome to the new “90210,” bitch!

Christine

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

You know what they say: there’s no accounting for good taste. And so that’s how I ended up at the Jesse McCartney concert in Toronto last week.

Continuing my McCartney-fueled love fest, I couldn’t pass up the chance to see the man-boy live in person, even if that meant hearing my friends snicker behind my back or openly laugh in my face or lose the minuscule ounce of street cred that I irrationally thought I possessed. All that mattered was that I was going to be in the vicinity of Jesse McCartney, even if that meant being trampled on by teenage girls twice my size.

Of course, even the prospect of seeing Jesse McCartney couldn’t outweigh the sad picture of me at the concert, swaying side to side by myself, so I needed a partner in crime. The opportunity arose when I got a call from my friend T., who wanted to know if I was interested in seeing Maroon 5 with him.

“No,” I said quickly, the thought of Adam Levine gyrating on stage giving me goose bumps. But then I had a better idea. “I’ll go see Maroon 5 with you if you come watch Jesse McCartney with me.” The last part was said in hushed tones, since I was at work and didn’t want more ammunition for my co-workers, who already think I’m already crazy without the Jesse McCartney factor.

“Who’s Jesse McCartney?” T. asked. Aha! The perfect candidate to drag with me to the concert.

Jesse McCartney was sharing a double bill with Jordin Sparks, winner of 2007’s “American Idol,” and was set to perform at the Sound Academy (formerly The Docks), a small, standing-room only venue in the southeast corner of the city, their only stop in Toronto. As we lined up to go inside, I was relieved to find that I was not the only cougar-like woman in attendance (as I like to stress, Jesse McCartney is twenty-one and therefore legal across all states and provinces), and my plan to grab an unsuspecting teen to masquerade as my younger sister was scrapped. Yes, all five of us were unabashed in our love for McCartney.

As we waited for the concert to start, we were chagrined to find that everyone had brought a camera except for us. Damn my instruction following! Because T.’s cell phone camera had been assembled in 1962, we couldn’t get a clear picture of anything except a black blur on stage and someone’s errant head in our way, though our line of sight to the stage was obscured by the lone 6’2” guy in the audience and the two Amazonian women who kept insisting on standing directly in front of us. But if you really want a picture, here you go!

Everything seemed relatively calm, and as I contemplated getting drunk at the bar so I could be escorted out in a blaze of glory, we heard screaming coming from the front of the venue. Indeed, Jesse McCartney had stepped out of his dressing room to sign autographs before the show. How gracious! But alas, the moment passed too soon and all we got was a semi-sighting from T., who thought he saw McCartney’s head poking out of the tween crowd.

After a long day at work, the plan was to watch McCartney and bolt out of there. But as things go, Jordin Sparks opened up the show, so the McCartney fest would have to wait. Her one-hour set was good, as is to be expected from an “American Idol” winner accustomed to singing live, albeit somewhat boring. Unfortunately, I’m not too familiar with her repertoire, but she did perform crowd-pleasers like “Tattoo” and “One Step At A Time” (her opening song), in addition to unreleased songs from her album like “Freeze,” “Permanent Monday,” “Now You Tell Me,” and “God Loves Ugly” (if you’re a fan of “America’s Next Top Model,” you’ll remember contestant Bree disagreeing, though that’s a random aside that serves no purpose to this story). Between songs, Sparks also worked in some Alicia Keys (“Fallin’”), Tracy Chapman (“Give Me One Reason,” which she also performed on “American Idol”), and Stevie Wonder (“Superstition”). The latter was a duet with her back-up singer, who uncannily sounds like a woman and should probably tour on his own.

Sparks has a habit of talking between songs to explain the meaning behind them, which, depending on your mood, may or may not be annoying (but not as annoying at the cheesy screensaver background behind her, which transported me back to “American Idol”). I didn’t find it so much annoying as I did a time zapper that only prolonged my McCartney fix, but it’s nice to know that Sparks had the final laugh when she saw her long-time crush at her concert and brushed him off because she realized that he was a prick, or that she thinks we should all be happy with ourselves. But all the asides were forgotten when she performed “No Air” as her final song (sans Chris Brown), and I was able to writhe in lovelorn agony along with her.

After a half-hour break that felt more like twenty hours, with intermittent screaming from girls chanting “Jesse! Jesse!” in a futile attempt to lure him out of his comfortable dressing room, the second act started. Never in my life have I been so close to mass hysteria as I did standing in the middle of the Sound Academy. It doesn’t help when girls will scream directly in your ear because you happen to be standing in the way between them and the stage.

In a handful of interviews, Jesse has alluded to his admiration for Justin Timberlake, and it shows. From the tailored suit to the too-cool-for-school sunglasses, McCartney is well on his way to becoming something of a Timberlake shadow. What was most amusing to watch was the deliberate way in which McCartney peeled off his sunglasses, after performing two songs back-to-back, just to incite a reaction from the crowd. Yes, it’s true: you’re not a real person until the sunglasses come off.

Poor T. was lost throughout most of the set, but I’m sure my detailed commentary, which comprised mostly of “I like this song!” (“It’s Over,” “Make Up,” How Do You Sleep?”) or “This songs sucks” (“Into Ya,” “Freaky,” “Beautiful Soul”) was helpful. I’m also sure McCartney’s back-up singers lost a little bit of their soul that night when they were forced to sing “Beautiful Soul,” though the “Jessie’s Girl” interlude comes a close second.

After several costume changes and semi-choreographed numbers that consisted of two-stepping and lots of hand signals, it was time for Jesse to pull someone on stage. I’m familiar with his gimmick because of the various concert footage popping up on YouTube, where the consensus is that McCartney is a lecherous old man for singing sexy songs to young girls. “Pick someone your own age, pick someone your own age,” I muttered under my breath. But no, after much hamming and foot dragging and eliciting more mass hysteria from the crowd, McCartney pulled up a young girl on stage. Cue the throngs of euphoric screams and living vicariously through others as he sang to star-struck girl – quite intimately, might I add – before giving her a hug.

Unlike Sparks, McCartney seemed to have enough material culled from his three-album career to fill his hour set, but he did manage to sneak in one cover. As he helpfully explained with a muffled voice (the most he’ll ever speak at the concert), he was approached by Pepsi to perform a song under their “Cover Art” series. As stipulated, the artist must cover an artist completely out of their genre, so Jesse did the natural thing by selecting…T-Pain's "Buy U A Drank (Shawty Snappin').” It would all make sense except for the fact that McCartney is, indeed, veering off into R&B and urban music. But I guess since they’ve asked him to do a cover of someone outside of his genre, instead of a genre he strives to be in, I’ll let it go. What I can’t quite let go of is the jarring image of young ten- and twelve-year-old girls singing along, even replicating the “ooh” sounds, as horrified parents looked on from the sidelines.

What watching ”Buy U A Drank” live showed me is that not only is McCartney a gifted live performer, but also that he makes too many weird faces while singing and that he’s one gene mutation away from Frankie Muniz.

At last, McCartney ended the night with “Leavin’,” which left me very happy. As soon as the last chords were played, T. and I high-tailed it out of there to beat the crowd. McCartney came on to do an encore (a cover of a Michael Jackson classic), but by that time, T. and I had had our fill of screaming pre-pubescent girls, standing-room only venues, and ringing in our ears. And much like a summer love, it was also time for me to bid McCartney good-bye, though we’ll always have our crazy summer at the Sound Academy.

Christine