BrandHabit

Fashion at Music Festivals

With all of the tie-dye, ikat and tribal prints hitting the runways over the last several seasons, I’ve been itching to do a report on hippy fashion from the source and breeding ground for this style:  hippy music festivals.

 

You might think that hippies don’t care about fashion but think again.  Some of the most creative forms of self-expression can be found at these events.

 

The last several years have shown a huge shift in style.  Gone are the days of tie-dye t-shirts and twirl skirts, the hippies of today have a much more urban and edgy style.  Granted: one will still catch a waft of burning sage and everything else you might expect at a music festival but don’t think you will be walking though a shuffling crowd of smelly, unshowered, strung out, long haired kids.

 

Quite the opposite, in fact.  This weekend, I went to one of the more traditionally “crunchy” of the Northern California Music Festivals:  The Harmony Festival where I saw classic reggae band, Steel Pulse and a more contemporary Reggae band called Slightly Stoopid. 

 

There were very few longhaired hippies and tie-dye was far and few between.  You are more likely to see clean shaved skaters on a skate board ramp than a writhing mass of sweaty bodies in a drum circle.

 

Clearly there is a trend towards Burning Man style (An event I have yet to go to but have on my bucket list) and I can only describe as “Mad Max” meets “Dangerous Liaisons”. 

 

Several vendors peddled their wears of neutral colored canvas clothing, tailored in boudoir renaissance details.  So, If you can imagine:  A bustier made of olive drab cloth, worn with combat boots and yet polished off with a decidedly goddess-like feminine vibe.

 

I’d also describe the style as playful-fantastical-fantasy, where Technicolor dreams one only sees in movies are played out in reality.

 

While we may think that Paris and Milan inspire US fashion, I wonder if some of these free thinking hippies are more on the leading edge of fashion than we might guess?

 

 

My Left Foot

By Carla Morton

Some of you may have read about my daughter surfing last summer at Big Dog Surf Camp. 
This summer, I decided to join in on the fun. 

Hell, I used to windsurf!  How hard could it be? 

After just one lesson with a coach at the Camp, I was riding those waves to the shore.  My board, “BIG RED” is a big floating sidewalk that any bozo can look like a pro on. 

So, last week I am at my third lesson this summer. 

The waves are small but I am having a blast.  I’ve been chatting with Jessu, the coach’s darling girlfriend.  We laugh and support one another as we paddle out to Coach Bryce who positions us just perfect for the oncoming wave. He pushes us into it and then shouts, “Cobra, Cobra, Cobra!”  Weeee.  This is fun!  Jessu and I have a blast even if we fall off before standing up.   

How will I ever surf for real?  I will need a personal wave pusher forever.

After about 5 rides, Jessu and I are taking an itty-bitty wave all the way in to the shore. 
I jump off the board (ta-da!) ready to turn the board around and paddle back out for more fun. 

The sand is MUCH more shallow than I thought and my left ankle rolls to the outside. No: not a normal roll where the bottom of your foot turns in.. but an ABNORMAL roll where the bottom of your foot turns out. Searing pain shoots up the side of my leg.    Jessu asks if I need help as I groan in pain.
 “No, I got it.  I’m cool.”  (Jeeze, I’m not cool at all. How am I going to deal with this?)

Luckily I am in shallow water because I can’t stand up.  I sit on the sand yet still in the water, for a few moments assessing my ability to get up on dry beach. 
When I finally force myself to stand up, I feel like I am going to throw up. 
I make my way to the sea wall where I plant myself and raise my injured leg on top of the other. I don’t feel any pain in this position but when the class is over and I need to hobble down the beach back to the cars, the urge to throw up returns.

“Shit”, I’m thinking.. “Here I am surfing, looking like a cool, hot mom and now with a little ankle twist, I can barely walk down the beach.  What a loser these coaches must think I am!  Leave the surfing to the kids, Mamma!” 

Do I moan and ask for help or a piggyback ride from one of the coaches?
No Way! 
God forbid my injury ends up being just little bruise!
Plus, I’ve gained 7 lbs over the summer and there is no way I am launching my body on the back of some svelte 24 yr old!

Back at the ranch: (i.e., back to my home life), I spend the next 48 hours watching my ankle and foot in amazement as it turns into a purple Elephant Seal.  I send photos to the coach to prove in some way that I am NOT a loser (and that I’m still cool of course)

Some friends advise me to get an x-ray.  Others say I wouldn’t be able to walk (limp) if there was something really wrong. 

I call the doctor and I can’t get in for another 5 days.

“Maybe it will be better by then,” I think to myself.  I continue my routine of R.I.C.E. 
I learned RICE in a Sports Physiology class in college.  (Yeah!  I remember something!)

Here is my routine:

• Rest (Uh, sorry.. Don’t feel like resting) 

• Ice (okay I did that once or twice)

• Compression (It makes the Elephant Seal Foot feel like it’s going to explode)

• Elevation (Only when I can’t stand the throbbing any longer) 

I feel fabulous from the ankle up!  “Let’s chop it off and put it out of its misery” I think to myself.  

Two nights after my injury, I wear platforms and run (limp fast) between restaurants and bars with some girlfriends in the city. Hey, a few cocktails lessen the severity of my limp, and a maxi dress hides my hideous example of an appendage!

Finally, a week after the injury I am sitting in the waiting room at the orthopedics office.  The tech brings me right to x-ray.

“I’m sure it’s just some torn ligaments,” I say to him.

A minute later the doctor comes into the room and without looking at my ankle or asking me any questions says, “Your ankle is broken.”  I am aghast.  “Luckily we don’t’ need to do surgery but it needs 6 weeks to heal. I can either put you in a boot with crutches… OR if you don’t COMPLY I will have to cast you.” 

Comply? What?  What? What does he mean by that?
And instantly I feel a guilty sense of knowing.. Miss running-around-the-city-in-platforms-girl.  He probably took one look at me, and my Prada bag, and knew I was going to be as LEAST compliant as I could.

So, he orders me a boot, walks the order down the hall to the tech and I over hear the tech saying,  “She was surprised, wasn’t she?”  They both have me pegged.  Damn.

So, here I am in a big black boot without the ability to wear heels for 6 weeks. No running, no surfing, no mountain biking,  no swimming.. ( I found out I can do the rowing machine!  Shhhh, don’t tell the Doctor)  Thank god it’s still hot and flip-flops are in fashion.

Sigh…

If only they could make a boot look fashionable.  Wouldn’t it be great if you could get a variety of colors?  Gold Lame would be HOT!

What about surfing?  I may be down but I am NOT done! I’m calling Big Dog to book another surf lesson in 6 weeks and I’m counting the days. 

Back to Boot Camp

by Carla Morton

 

I just started back at a morning boot camp after taking almost 4 years off.  Gasp!  4 Years??

 

Yes, 4 years ago I met with 6 women at 6:15 AM two days a week, outdoors for a 75 minute Boot Camp with a personal trainer. 2 Days a week, I’d get up when it was still dark, drive down to the local school and muscle through a mess of sprints, lunges, chin ups, push ups and jump squats, all while watching the sun rise on the beautiful San Geronimo Valley in West Marin. 

 

At one point in the program, I heard the gals chatting about a personal chef they were thinking of working with who would deliver food prepared for a special 2 week program. 

No Coffee, No Sugar, No Carbs, (not even fruit) No Alcohol, No Dairy. 

Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?  No carbs at all? Just protein and veggies? 

 

Miserable at the thought of it all but damned if I was going to watch my work out buddies

turn into super models while I waddled around with them at 6AM (I am exaggerating on both fronts), I decided to join them on the 2 week plan. 

 

Needless to say, by the end of summer and between the Boot Camps and several of those 2 week (weekends off) plans, I was 13 lbs lighter and in the best shape of my life.

 

Then I started my internet company…you know, BrandHabit? 

 

I think I managed to stay on a bit of a workout plan for another year.  But the startup took over my life, Boot Camp was over and the budget for chef-prepared-meals-made-for-a-rabbit was gone.   Miraculously, my muscle tone remained for quite awhile.. but slowly, slowly as I spent more time in meetings, or driving down to silicon valley to pitch to VC’s and endlessly sitting in front of my computer things changed quite a bit. 

 

Recently, my attempts at working out have been pathetic.  I shuffle through 10 minutes running on a treadmill and then 10 minutes on a Stair Master, barely eek out 10 incline push ups (I used to do 2 sets of 20); I’ll push myself through 20 or 30 lunges and call it a day.

 

8 lbs have crept back onto my body and now, when I have NEVER carried weight in my middle, I have what my friends and I endearingly call: A Muffin Top. (shhhh!)

 

So finally, knowing that I have exhausted all personal internal resources to motivate my-SELF to work out on my own (I don’t live near a lively gym), I signed up for another BootCamp through PacWest Athletics.  (blog continued below)

 

Thank GOD my friend Alice was willing to join me this morning or I would have hit the Snooze button at 5AM when the alarm went off.

 

But we made it.  Alice and I were out there jogging and lunging in the dark.  Before the sun created enough light for me to see the 20 other men and women who also braced the cold this morning, we were half way through the class.   

 

Jocelyn the coach couldn’t be a more perfect 6AM motivator.  It takes the right kind of person to get you going at 6AM.  She’s neither sticky sweet nor a barking drill sergeant; either would probably irritate me at that hour. Jocelyn is the picture of beautiful natural health; she's about 5’11 with a model body, model good looks and a warm smile.  She has been a marathon runner for years and makes all of our drills look fun and effortless.

 

6 Weeks till summer... I’ll feel like a million bucks (and the muffin top will be gone)!

Fake Bake: The only tanning product to use!

by Carla Morton

Personally, there is a point in winter where I just can’t STAND to be pale anymore.
I usually manage to scoot off to Mexico or the Virgin Islands around Christmas.   But this year, it just wasn’t in the budget.

Lucky for all of us that share in the misery of pasty-white-blahs , there is a plethora of tanning options out there that will give us the mid-winter glow we desire. 

I  have tried a TON of tanning products and wrote about a few in a blog back in August 2007.

So, when I was asked to try a product called FAKE BAKE, I knew I would be a well experienced critic.
For me, there are a few key things that I judge tanning products on:

1)    Quality of the color
2)    Smell
3)    Ability to apply evenly without streaks.

Fake Bake, in my opinion received perfect scores in every category and is even better than the spray on tanning booths.

I had to option to test several of FAKE BAKE’S formulas:  spray airbrush, mouse and lotion. I prefer  the lotion. 

FAKE BAKE products contain a “color meter” which is like a pre-bronzer so you can see that you are applying evenly.  The color of the bronzer gave me an instant lift!  I looked like I just stepped off a beach!  Finally, I have to say that there is very, very little of that burnt skin smell.. a scent which I have found EVERY tanning product to contain.

At the cost of $24 a bottle, and with such a perfect experience,  I can see why FAKE BAKE is a favorite amongst celebrities. 

I am throwing away the other tanning products I have in my beauty cabinet.  Good-Bye Winter White Blahs!

To buy Fake Bake online CLICK HERE

Movie Review: "Confessions of a Shopaholic"

by Carla Morton

"How was it?"  My friends asked who knew I was going to the screening of  “Confessions of a Shopaholic” (Thanks to the people at www.Shopittome.com)

Well???  What can I say? I usually enjoy these light fun, easy no-brainer movies.  Some of my favorites include  “The Devil Wears Prada”, “13 going on 30” and “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen”.  Despite poor reviews, I also enjoyed “He’s Just Not that In to You,”  which came out in theaters last week.  But this one felt well… Vapid.

Isla Fisher was cute as Shopaholic, Rebecca Bloomwood.   Like the character Carrie Bradshaw from “Sex and the City” her outfits were entertaining but over the top.  Unlike Carrie however, who is self reflective and endearing I found nothing interesting about her character.  Absolutely nothing.  I mean, as I think about it, all of the movies I mention above include fun, stylishly dressed girls who are going through some sort of personal transformation and growth.  So while the movies are light and fun, they all pulled me in to the story with deeper meaning.

 While Rebecca appears to be going through some personal growth, I never quite believed it.  Even while she is developing a relationship with a handsome and intelligent British man (played by the darling Hugh Dancy), I didn’t feel an ounce of chemistry between them.  Even in the last scene, when he proves his love for her, she is still distracted (during a KISS nonetheless!) by a shiny pair of shoes in a department store window.  Gross.

Thank God I am not a Shopaholic, In fact, some might be surprised to hear that I actually don’t like to shop.  (Continued below...)

What goes through my mind when I shop is quite the opposite of what Miss Bloomwood is thinking:

I think:

• Do I really need this? (Hot Pink Boa)

• How often will I wear it? (Besides New Years Eve)

• How soon will it go out of style? (Jackets with Short Puffy Sleeves)

• Is it flattering to my figure? (Do I look like a Cow?)

• Is it appropriate for my age? (Mid-drift bearing halter top)

• Does it make me look like I am trying to look too young? (i.e., “Housewives of Orange County or “Cougar”)

• Do I have something else in my closet just like it? (black skirts and pants)

• Can I afford it? ( Am I making a paycheck?)

Certainly, I like nice things and a new article of clothing can be exciting, but shopping has never defined who I am, relieved any kind of emotional vacancy, made me late for a meeting, or put me into credit card debt.

Phew.

I’d wait for this movie to come out in video and watch it on a night when you are quietly working on another project at the same time.

 

My New "Happy" Tool

by Carla Morton

No, it’s not what you were thinking.  It’s not THAT kind of happy tool.

But it comes close.  I mean, what kind of tool makes a girl happier than a tool that gives her a “good hair day”?

At the last Shecky’s event, I went out promising myself that I wouldn’t buy A THING.
But alas, there were some hairstylists at the event coyly wrapping women’s hair around this TOOL with a result of, Voila!  Perfect corkscrew curls. I resisted as long as I could before I agreed to sit in the chair for a demo.

I have thick wavy hair and sometimes, if I can get the perfect blend of hair products,  along with perfect not too humid weather, and a very particular way I twirl, clip and let my hair dry, I can get that cool bo-ho, rocker chic hair with semi rasta-ish curls that aren’t too frizzy.  But if one thing goes wrong in the recipe I can easily look like an over worked mom who hasn’t brushed her hair in days and stuck her finger in a light socket. 

So, you can imagine how I couldn’t resist when I discovered how this new tool would give my hair a polished, corkscrew rocker chic look with out the need to hope for perfect conditions.

Throw out your curling irons and check this tool out: It's on sale for $79 (from $150) here!

http://www.californiahairproducts.com/ginalli-milano-19mm-cylinder-curling-ir19.html

Fashion in a Down Economy

by Carla Morton

I haven't posted a blog in, a loooonnngggg time.  I have to admit, I've been quite stunned with what has happened to our economy and I have been immobilized on what I can possibly write about with regard to shopping and fashion at this time.

Furthermore, since the holidays I have been distraught to hear about the countless boutiques that are closing their doors.  Some of them include local San Francisco favorites: Oceana Rain, Chrissy Bee, Dylan and Los Angeles institution, Tracey Ross. 

My heart breaks for all of these entrepreneurs' faded dreams; for those who tirelessly put their hearts and souls in to their business. And yet somehow I know here will be new exciting beginnings for these individuals.  

I've been thinking about how BrandHabit can help the designers and retailers during these difficult times. 

One of our immediate solutions is that we have opened up our blog to our featured designers and retailers so they can post about hot new products, highlight sales, or offer special promotions for you readers. 

We want to be a resource for the entire fashion community at this time and we welcome your ideas.

Please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts and what you are looking for!  Email me at [email protected]

Fashion "Down There"

by Carla Morton

For those of you that know me, I am sure you are thinking it was only a matter of time before I started talking about things that no-one else talks about.

It all started the other night when I was out for drinks with 2 of my girlfriends. 

One of my single friends mentioned that the man she is dating has a “man-scape”.

“A MAN-Scape?”  My other friend and I lean in closer.  “What is THAT?”

“You know,”  My single friend responds, “He is groomed… down there.”

“How groomed?” 
“Totally Groomed,” She responds

“Does he wax his “friends?” 
“Ouch, how do they do that?”
“How old is this guy?”
“Is he gay?”

We pepper our friend with questions.

“Gee”, I say out loud.  “I am not sure I would want to see that level of detail of my man’s ‘New England boiled dinner’.  Plus, I like a man to look like a man.  I love chest hair.”

This conversation of course leads to our personal grooming habits.

Soon we start to argue “the standard” for fashion “down there”.

Our conversation continues though 3 different bars. 
One of my friends thinks that the new standard is bald. 
Yes, bald like a cue ball.
Some of us argue that a man might feel grossed out by a woman who looks like a child.

Frankly this topic has come up before and I’ve found that gals I know in their 20’s are going with bald look.  It’s the trend and my guess is it's generational.

“Gosh, I’m not quite sure I can pull off that look”
(Yeah, just like the bubble skirt…doesn’t suit my body) 
“I mean, I don’t have the same “shape” (we’ll call it) that my 9 yr old daughter has.”  

Is this a thing that only 20 year olds can pull off?
(Am I beginning to sound like Carrie from Sex in the City?)

I decide to poll a few male friends.

One is in his 30’s but is going on 25.

I ask him for his input.
What do most men you know prefer?
a)    bald
b)    air strip
c)    triangle (just in front)

His answer:  A

Gulp.

Two nights later the conversation continues with one of my friends' husband and his 40 yr old friend who has 2 daughters (15 and 2 yrs old).

The husband says, “groomed…well groomed. And by the way, I heard the male version is called a Man-Zillian."

The 40 yr old with 2 daughters says, “ It completely freaks me out to see a bald one!  I have daughters!”

See? I think it’s generational.

I am DYING to know whether this fashion trend is generational or not.

Feel free to log in your vote.  A)  B) or C) 
Let us know your gender and age too.
Comments are okay but keep it clean please or we will delete them.
Also, your comments can be anonymous if you make up a name for your post.

Friends with Talent

by Carla Morton

 

There’s nothing I love more than discovering a unique talent that one of my girlfriend possesses.

Some of my friends simply possess personality traits I admire. 

 

My friend Sonia for example; she is as deep as they come but she can turn a depressing conversation into a fit of hysterical laughter with her ironic point of view on any situation.   I’ll want Sonia by my bedside when I am dying because I will then die laughing. 

Or, take my friend Chal who always has the most diplomatic point of view on everything.  She always keeps her cool and never get’s her panties in a bunch (like yours truly). 

My girlfriend Jenny, aside from being gentle and sweet is an incredibly creative collage artist.  I love her work and encourage her to do more all the time!

While many women may get jealous of other women with talent,

 (What? that bee-ach thinks she’s so smart!)

I relish in their unique genius and feel grateful to have so many wonderful women in my life.

When I started working out with a new friend Jules about a year ago, I knew very quickly that she was a good story teller.  But it wasn’t until months later that she told me she writes a blog called “mind of the married mom”.   Check it out:

 www.mindofthemarriedmom.com

Not only is Jules a great story teller but she is a hysterical writer!  I only WISH I could be so raw in my blog, but, I guess I do have a public image to uphold.

Then, just as I was discovering Jules' writing talent she told me she was planning on opening a “ Tween Center” in Fairfax , Ca, called Club BeTween.  It’s a center for kids between the ages of -12 to hang out in.  … pure genius! 

Hats off to you my friend!

BedTime Ritual

This isn't going to be a post about the things I do before bed;  the cleanser I use, the lotions and potions I put on my face to prevent (or repair) the wrinkles, the designer lingerie I wear (not). 

This is actually a post about my favorite time of day; the bedtime routine I do with my nine year old daughter. Tonight was hilarious. While the routine is always the same, what happens in between is magic. I'll underline the parts that are "routine" so you can see how exact the routine is.. even the words we exchange with each other are the same each time.

Every night, I struggle to get my daughter into bed and settled in without jumping up to do a impromptu skit, or a last minute spaz flip into the bed.. (8 or 9 times)

When she is finally in bed, I say, "Okay, 5 minutes starts now."

"No wait Mom, we're not in position!"   We need to spoon first.

"Okay then, get into position quick or I am starting the 5 mintues anyways"

My daughter talks through the steps as if the Space Shuttle is taking off from NASA.

"Knees up!  Butt out!  Arm Wrapped!  Lock and Load"  This is the coziest feeling in the world. I know this won't last forever.

"Okay, 5 minutes starts now,"  I say again.

"Hey Mom?  I just have one thing to ask you..."  It's a delay tactic.  We chat for a few minutes.

She rips a fart.  My dog has been farting up the room all night and I am gassed out already.

"STOP!" 

"Mom, that's mean!"

"What do you mean, 'that's mean?" We are spooning and you are farting on me!"

"I couldn't help it. It popped out."

"Popped out?"  (I am laughing but still kind of mad) "That's not true. You always push them out. You need to learn how to control your farts honey!"

"Mom's know how to control their farts but I am a kid and kids fart. Still. You could have been nicer about it and said, 'can you please stop farting?' rather than yelling, 'STOP!"

"Oh Jeeze.  Okay, there are 3 minutes left on the 5 minutes" I remember we are trying to sleep.

"Mom!  I said, 'Pause 5 minutes!'"

"No you didn't!.  Okay, 5 Minutes starts now."

"Ohhh Grandma's cookin a pie in the oven!"  She wiggles her butt. "I think it's ready to come out!  Five. Four. Three. Two. One!!  Ding Ding Ding!!"  She acts as if she is going to force another fart out.

"STOOOOPPPP!"  Oh my god, my daughter is too funny!   She has the most random sense of humor.
I am laughing hysterically. 

I remind myself that now 20 minutes have passed and continue with our ritual:
 "Okay, 5 minutes are up."  I pause on cue.

"Two more minutes"  My daughter says.  I don't know when we started it but it's always 5 minutes and then 2 minutes.  Sometimes there is talking in between.

The 2 minutes pass and I get out of bed. 
"Hey Mamma? I just have one question..."  Yep this is part of the routine too.  Another delay tactic. But she is drowsy now, so it's short.

I am not sure when this next part of the routine was added but now it's a must.

"Okay Mom, Flatten out the blankets... no, really flatten them out"  Oh no, she got the obsessive gene from my husband.  "And, then come around the bed and give me a hug."

"Okay, good night honey.  I love you!"  I give her a kiss and another hug good night.

"Good Night Mom... If I need ya, I get ya!"

" Always sweetie.  Good night!"

Come on!  What could be better than snuggling with your daughter who is sweet and funny and farts on you?

Someday I will miss this routine!