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Baltimore Beauty Examiner
Showing entries for Category: stain
Showing entries for Category: stain
Magic Hands
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Before we begin, do me a solid and go to my favorite Baltimore classic rock radio station, 100.7 The Bay, and use their online request tool. Type in "Magic Man" by Heart. As soon as the song starts, please continue. Is it on? Good, I think it will help set the mood. I am fortunate to have been the recipient of many professional massages in my life, particularly in my tenure as an aesthetician. It's one of the extra-sweet perks of working in the spa industry, to be sure. Massage is kind of like pizza-even if it's not exceptional, it's still good, 'cause pizza is just yummy by its very nature, and it feels good to be touched, whether it is a back rub from your sweetie or a deep-tissue extravaganza from a pro. However, an hour-long session with a massage therapist is considerably more expensive than a pepperoni pizza. In the current state of the economy, you feel a lot more disappointed if you pay a hundred bucks and get a mediocre massage than if your $2.50 slice is too greasy. It is for this reason that I feel a responsibility to you, dear reader, to inform you that The Greatest Massage Of All Time is right here in the City of Charm, and I can prove it; the other day, your Beauty Examiner was the grateful recipient of The Greatest Massage Of All Time, heretofore known as The GMOAT.  This is the room where I experienced The GMOAT. Sigh...The GMOAT was performed upon me by a magic human called Ryan, and it took place at SaSa's Spa at 1111 Park Avenue, nestled between Mount Vernon and Bolton Hill. From the moment his hands touched my skin, I felt almost as if I was humming with a sort of warm, gentle kinetic vibration. Within the first ten minutes, after following his gentle instruction to breathe into the pressure, my ravaged muscles began to succumb to the GMOAT. After twenty minutes, a small puddle of drool formed on the floor beneath my slackened lips. I lost all concept of time and space, but I think it was around the thirty-minute mark that I proposed marriage at least once. I am fairly certain that I tried to convince Ryan to run away to a tropical island with me. "We'd have a good life", I reasoned. "You could massage me all day and we'd live off of coconut cream pies, like on Gilligan's Island." Ryan politely demurred, as he is extremely professional, but I think it's a flawless plan. During The GMOAT, Ryan had performed a few different techniques; the Therapeutic Massage involves a variety, depending upon Ryan's assessment of the client's needs. I experienced a transcendent combo platter of Craniosacral, Hot Stone and Deep Tissue therapies. I'm pretty s ure the Craniosacral. which is where Ryan makes incremental adjustments in the connective tissue in the skull, affected me the most, because I felt weirdly floaty for several hours afterward, lighter and more clear, somehow. After The GMOAT, Ryan brought me cool water and suggested I wait a little bit before trying to get up, which turned out to be a good idea because I could not steady myself to stand for a few minutes. The true mark of a great massage is how you feel the next day. I received The GMOAT on a Monday, and on Tuesday I noticed that not only was there no pain (unlike most other massages I've had) but my hips felt more even, and my legs were crackling with vitality. I have Degenerative Disc Disease, so this sensation was both a relief and a pleasure. So many components make up The GMOAT, but the primary one is the exceptional skill of the therapist. Other things are important too, of course; the atmosphere of the location in which you are being treated is calm, soothing and safe. The table you're laying on is of high quality, sturdy and firm yet more comfy than any piece of furniture in your house. The temperature in the room is controlled, so that you don't get a chill, but you never feel too warm. All factors were firmly in place, but the magic hands really make The GMOAT. To schedule an appointment with Ryan to get your own GMOAT, please call 410-383-7272(sasa). |
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Ch-Ch-Cherry Bomb
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I love The Girls Next Door. From the opening theme ("Come On-A My House" by Rosemary Clooney, re- mixed) I am transported into the Barbie's Dream House life Hef's ladies are leading, all the while feeling a bit concerned that I am turning into a Camille Paglia-ophyte because I don't really see anything wrong with it. These lovelies are modern archetypes; living, breathing dolls who personify a very specific image: Lots of platinum blonde hair, deeply tanned skin, and cleavage aplenty. There is a distinctive porno-chic about the Girls' beauty personae, and it's not for me, but it sure works for them. I can understand how this image of extreme artifice is off-putting to some, but you can still see how naturally pretty these genetically blessed young ladies are.  A few times, I have tried to rock the GND signature makeup look, which is about pale, glossy nude lips paired with lots of dark, smoky but extremely precise eye makeup. I love how it looks on other people, but I am and always have been a red-lips and defined-brows kind of gal. The general idea is balancing the features, or exaggerating the ones you like best, I suppose, and probably instead of emphasizing my (literally and figuratively) big mouth, it would level my face's playing field to downplay prominent features. The thing is, that all works on paper, but a woman's essence, her personality and sense of style are much more influential on how she rocks makeup. All the rules of symmetry and shading go right out the window when a woman obviously feels relaxed and confident in her chosen self-presentation. Since I am all about cherry-stained lips, I own approximately one hundred million red lip colors. I am convinced that the next one I buy might be the illusive Perfect One (there's that pesky product-addict thought process rearing its glossy head) in texture, color and durability. I have a very specific method of layering the color, always beginning with a stain, followed by a moist lipstick, then liner, more lipstick dabbed on with a finger, blot blot, done. The stain part is by far the most important, being the foundation of the whole elaborate operation. The best ones, and believe me, I have tried ALL of them, were the Yves Saint-Laurent and Sephora Lip Markers which, sadly, have both been discontinued.  Photo. Liptini.comIn my continual search for a replacement, the next best thing so far is the unique formula of Liptini Lip Liqueur in Maraschino. This baby is totally unlike my dearly departed Sephora version, but you use it the same way, on perfectly dry lips. This one is meant to be layered but is not drying the way my ex-stain was. Make sure you don't have anything at all on your pucker before you apply it, and top with balm or gloss. If you tend to be a chatterbox like me, your soft cherry mouth remains, even long after the balm has been talked off. |
Arika Casebolt
Arika Casebolt is a renaissance woman--a former rock goddess and now an aesthetician who has lived the D.C.-to-Baltimore commuter life. Her goal is to educate and enthrall her readers with beauty tips for everyone, from the meek to the daring, for the commuters in all of us, and for those who prefer to stay at home.
Arika Casebolt is a renaissance woman--a former rock goddess and now an aesthetician who has lived the D.C.-to-Baltimore commuter life. Her goal is to educate and enthrall her readers with beauty tips for everyone, from the meek to the daring, for the commuters in all of us, and for those who prefer to stay at home.
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