Naturalista Chicery at the CurlBox Meetup

Posted by twilliams on Jun 22, 2012 in Beauty, Hair | 6 comments

 

Hi girls! Last night, I found myself at what seemed to be the very epicenter of fab naturalista chic-ery — curlBOX’s soiree at famed Karen’s Body Beautiful in Fort Greene, BK. A little backstory: curlBOX, founded by my girl Myleik Teele, is a way to experience curly hair products at an insanely low price (for $20, subscribers received 5-7 samples a month). And Karen’s Body Beautiful spa carries a house brand of all-natural black hair products that are legendary among naturalistas (the Sweet Ambrosia Leave-in Conditioner is most coveted). Blended by the gloriously fro’d owner, Karen Tappin, the line is super-hydrating and restorative — and they smell divine.

 

 

Naturally, I couldn’t wait to stop by — and I even brought my curly progeny, Miss Lina Bobina. I’ve covered a ton of natural hair meetups during my run at Essence.com, but I’ve never attended one as an almost-chemical-free chica, myself. I saw the whole thing with brand new, covetous eyes! There were hundreds of swaggy bombshells there, with some of the sexiest ‘dos I’ve ever seen — ringlets, fros, waist-length dreads, twist-outs  — and makeup game for days.

 

 

I saw two particularly stunning girls outside in the block-long line…and being me, I attacked them, demanding to know their beauty secrets.

 

 

How CUTE, right? Here’s the tee from the chick on the left, Sherena, who’s been natural for a year and a half: “I’m wearing MAC Eyeshadow in Steamy…I thought the teal was a pretty contrast with the yellow. The lip is MAC Lipstick in Bubbles. And I make my own blend of shea butter, jojoba oil and coconut oil for my hair — I use it as a moisturizer and a twisting cream!”

The cutie on the right, Ingrid, has been chemical-free since ’09 and loves a statement lip: “It’s Wet & Wild Lipstick in Stoplight Red. I love the pop, plus I’m trying to keep it cost effective! And I’m a huge fan of Giovanni Direct Leave-in Conditioner and the Bee Mine Curly Butter.”

Sigh. Forget celebs and models, sometimes the most inspiring/aspirational looks come from the chick up the block. Ladies, what makeup and hair looks are inspiring you these days?

 

Princess Tia Wimyums & Carol’s Daughter

Posted by twilliams on May 9, 2012 in Beauty, Hair | 12 comments

Hi ladies! I’m back from my parents-sponsored Disney World trip (thank you Mommy and Daddy) and Lina Lina Bobina had the TIME OF HER LIFE. My 3-year old daughter is obsessed with princesses (her alias, bee tee dub, is Princess Tia Wimyums. She can’t pronounce “Williams”). Jasmine, Cinderella and Tiana are her rock stars. She actually bit off a fingernail while chatting with the real live Sleeping Beauty, and handed me the nibbled-off nail afterwards. I’m the grossest because I kept it to put her in her memory book.

I’m that mother.

But the most fun was had at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Salon, where little girls are treated to their own princess makeovers. Rocking their favorite princess dress, the girls get sparkly eyeshadow and identical, slicked-to-the-gods buns. I’d spotted post-makeover tots with their ultra-sleek little ‘dos all over Magic Kingdom, and was concerned about how the Bibbidi Bobbidi stylists would deal with Bobina’s curls. I had reason to worry, because when the visibly stricken stylist saw her hair, she drawled “I don’t know how to do curls!” and asked me for help.

Come on, Disney. Such a fail. Does the Bibbidi Bobbidi Salon think that white girls with straight hair are the only ones that want those slicked up little buns? The stylist actually attempted to tease my baby’s ringlets to create the topknot. Who backcombs curly hair? What are they teaching in Orlando beauty schools? You know me and my mom were through. But with my gentle direction (through clenched teeth), Princess Tia Wimyums’ makeover was a success!

Aaand speaking of hard to manage hair…let’s discuss mine. It was like 90 degrees, girls — hotel pool time! Heaven. But alas, I was worried about getting my crazy transitioning hair wet. I’d gotten a blowout before we left NYC, and didn’t want to deal with washing and styling my two warring hair textures. So, I spent the first hour with my my head waayyy above the water line, instructing Bobina and my extra-splashy parents (first time grandparents get extra delirious in the pool) not to get Mommy’s hair wet. But my hair was soon soaked, of course. The great news? I’d gotten an early sample of Carol’s Daughter’s new Transitioning 1-2-3 Hair Kit (available May 16th), and I’d had the good sense to pack it!

The set comes with a Purifying Low-Poo Cleanser, which is loaded with coconut oil detanglers; Renewing Scalp Spray, which exfoliates and invigorates the scalp, promoting cellular turnover and hair growth; and the Restoring Anti-Breakage Treatment, a creamy deep conditioner that targets the broken, weak hair at the line of demarcation (where the new growth meets the relaxed hair).  First of all, let me just say that Carol’s Daughter is GENIUS for debuting a line for transitioning hair, which has it’s own set of needs and issues, totally separate from fully relaxed or fully natural hair. Second of all, these products made my shedding, fragile hair feel softer and stronger than it has in ages. It’s like the CD scientists whipped up these products specifically for my hair! If you’re transitioning, you must try it — and check out Carol’s Daughter’s new site TransitioningMovement.com, for everything you ever wanted to know about growing out your relaxer.

You Need This: Tangle Teezer

Posted by twilliams on Apr 23, 2012 in Hair | 7 comments

My Lina Lina Bobina has glorious curls, but goddamn if they don’t get frightfully matted by the second or third day. Bathtime is always a nightmare on hair-washing days, with knots and tangles refusing to budge and Bobina shrieking “GENTLY MOMMY! NOVEMBA I SAID BE GENTLE?!!” (“novemba” means “remember.” She just discovered her birthday’s in November and she’s obsessed with the word). About a year ago, I went on a grand search of every hair website and online beauty supply store on the planet, searching for a detangling brush or comb to help with my baby’s knots. I ordered like fifteen different ones, but nothing really helped…until I found Tangle Teezer ($9.99, sallybeauty.com).

 

This little brush looks disturbingly like a Crayola-colored beetle, but whatever, it’s everything. It was built with an ergonomically sound design that allows the magically soft bristles to just breeeeze right through the worst tangles. And it works! I separate Bobina’s wet hair into four sections, slather on the Wen Cleansing Conditioner and run the Tangle Teezer through each section…and seriously, it’s like a slow-mo run on the beach. Plus, the bristles massage Bobina’s scalp, which she finds delightful. I’m so enamored of this thing, I make my Dominican stylist, “Sex on Fire,” use it on my hopelessly tangled transitioning tresses. Can’t gush enough.

xoxo,

Tia

Yawn.com, or Why Pretty Doesn’t Equal Perfect

Posted by twilliams on Mar 30, 2012 in Beauty, Random | 15 comments

The other day, I told a surprisingly ballsy baby beauty blogger that I hadn’t had a relaxer since August and transitioning was murder (extra-dramatic, always), and she actually said this:

BBBB: It’s not murder for you. It was murder for me. I have nappy hair, your’s is down to your ass. I had to deal with a ‘fro. Whether it’s curly or straight, you’ll always have good hair. And that face. You have “prettiest girl in the room” swag, no matter what. It’s always gonna be easy for you.

I resisted suggesting she seek therapy for her self image issues, because yawn.com — I’ve been hearing versions of this forever. How I got something because of my looks. How it’s all so easy breezy for me, ’cause of my looks. The thing is, the universe has a way of balancing everything out. Pretty doesn’t equal a perfect life. I give you Halle Berry, the most beautiful woman in Hollywood. She look happy to you? Does Kim? Admittedly, she’s in a hell of her own making, but still.

No one thinks black women suffer depression. Black women don’t even think so (girl, get your ass to church). But we do. I do. Chronic, incurable pain will do it to ya. Since I was in fifth grade, I’ve had debilitating migraines. It was a secret. What sixth-grader cares that if I go upside down on the monkey bars I’ll end up in bed for three days? I remember being in the school cafeteria at 13, my friends tittering about Ricky Merced making unh-unh-unh sex noises in social studies, and I was staring at a potato chip, focusing on it with every cell in my body because if I didn’t, I’d surely disintegrate under the weight of the agony…

From a young age, I was doing two things at once: living my life and managing the pain, a demon with claws and fangs that was actively trying to kill me.

I’ve tried everything — acupressure, acupuncture, hydrotherapy, yoga, Easter medicine, biofeedback — and I’ve been to the best migraine doctors everywhere. Once, a very famous one yelled at me in his office: “Why aren’t you responding to my treatments, Jesus Christ, woman!” They all give up, and I end up at pain clinics with cancer patients and toothless vets in heroin withdrawal, just hoping that a shot of morphine will get me through the day. My migraines have been labeled “intractable,” which means nobody knows what the fuck to do about them.

Some years aren’t so bad; some are hell. Right now, it’s the worst it’s ever been — a blur of pills, week-long hospital stays, more pills, and ER docs injecting me with massive doses of the shit that killed Michael Jackson. I spend most of my time paralyzed in the demon’s clutches or paralyzed in a fuzzy drug haze, hollow-eyed and haunted. Sometimes I can’t even see properly, it’s like looking at the world through a kaleidoscope.

But I do all my stuff, swan around, go to parties and lunches and events, and no one knows that seconds before I arrive I’m shooting myself in the thigh with a Sumavel injection or taking a cocktail of pills that could fell John Carter. I hide it well, I’ve been doing it forever. As migraneurs know (how I love and loathe that word), you can hide in plain sight. You’re not bleeding, you’re not limping. Save for my terrible undereye circles, no one can tell how off I really am. No one notices that I’m barely even there, just an apparition. A ghost in fringed booties and bright orange lipstick.

And Lina Bobina. On kinda-bad days, I sit on the floor and passively let her drape me in veils and dresses and sashes, like the mice in Cinderella. Hoping she doesn’t notice my hot tears of shame because I’m so disengaged I should be arrested. On really bad days, she’s with her father because I’m useless. The worst? She’s on constant headache watch. If my hand goes anywhere near my forehead, it’s “Mommy your head hurts? You need a doctor? I Dr. Cabezas, I make you feel better.” The second worst? At bedtime, sometimes she says, “Mommy I don’t feel so well. I think I have a headache…”

After she goes to sleep, I take another pain pill and lurch to the coach. Laying there, I watch the colors slowly seep out of everything, the room turning gray and receding, receding (demon disappearing, too, but not entirely..he’s hiding behind my ‘Sign of the Times’ concert DVD, watching me, waiting for me to wake up). On the way down, words like “terrible mother” “unlovable” “defective human being” float through my head and then there’s nothing anywhere. Just me and my prettiest girl in the room swag.

This isn’t a woe is me moment. I have wonderful things in my life, this is just my assigned cross to bear. Everyone has one. All I’m saying is that you never know what’s going on in anyone’s world. It isn’t “all so easy for me.” It isn’t for anyone, no matter what they look like. Don’t judge and don’t dismiss. It’s tacky.

Perfect Now

Posted by twilliams on Mar 12, 2012 in Beauty | 45 comments

Hiii SYB Babes and newbies!!  Welcome to Shake Your Beauty Part Dieux (insert double pirouette and body roll)!  I’m positively giddy to be back!  As many of you know, I shut my four-year-old blog down in ’09 to focus on being Essence.com’s beauty editor…and every day, I quietly nursed the SYB-sized hole in my heart.  Don’t get me wrong, Essence was magical.  Lovely peeps, iconic brand and Michael Ealy was a frequent visitor (he smiled at me once and I swear I got a little pregnant).

But out of all my career milestones – the “beauty editor at Elle/Lucky/Glamour/Teen People/Essence.com” thing, the books, the Olay commercial, my face showing up on a Panamanian ad for a nose-slimming clip #truestory – SYB might make me the most proud.  I started it back in 2005, when there were only like 5 1/2 beauty blogs in existence and I’d just realized “blog” wasn’t a skin condition like psoriasis.  I had a ball talking Nars Exhibit A Blush and DIY Brazilians on my terms, not a magazine’s — and most of all, getting to know my Babes!  The most loyal, hilarious, wildly beauty-obsessed chicks on the planet.  Let’s do it all again, girls!  As always, hit the comments section to ask questions, share obsessions, etc.  But if you throw shade, know that my mom might read you.  It’s happened before.

So, my life has changed dramatically in the last two years.  The Cliff’s Notes version:  My baby, Carolina May (aka Lina Bean, The Bean, Lina Lina Bobina) is THREE and a hilarious sass machine; I’m now a divorced single mom, but trying to make it sexy; I’m growing out my relaxer (not sexy); I’m a pole dancing monster; and I just went into business with my sisters, Devon/”Brownie,” an entertainment lawyer and new mommy, and Lauren, TheRoot.com’s Deputy Editor…stay tuned for the big reveal!  Two clues: black hair and crazy discounts.

And speaking of hair.

Yep, still frequenting Brooklyn’s baddest Dominican salons for weekly blowouts.  My favorite is owned by a moody siren we’ll call Sex on Fire.  She looks like what her alias sounds like – picture a tumble of platinum and cherry-red extensions, lacquer platform stilettos, and all House of Dereon everything.  Last Sunday, Sex on Fire looked peaked and was having visible trouble wielding her blowdryer.

Me: Are you feeling okay, Sex on Fire?  Do you need to sit down?

Sex on Fire:  I can’t sit down, mami (grimacing).  I don’t feel good.

Me:  What’s wrong?

Sex on Fire: Umm…I had bad food, my stomach not so good.  Umm…hold on.  (She sends her junior stylist to go get lunch; now the salon’s empty).  Okay, I tell you the truth.

The truth: Sex on Fire pulls her jeans down to reveal the biggest ass I’ve ever seen on a person not on the cover of King magazine. She’s like a size 8 or 10, the brand new butt is a 20.  How did I not notice this?  The badonk is encased in a gauzy, surgical panty contraption…through which I see twelve band-aids across her cheeks, each punctuated with a tiny dot of blood.  In my head, all I hear is Big Sean chanting “ass, ass, ass, ass…”

Sex on Fire:  I got butt injections to make it fatter! It hurts but I perfect now!  I perfect now!!

Me:  Well…look at that.  Sexy!

Sex on Fire:  I know.  But wait.

She then lifts up her shirt to her chin, showing a corset and a pair of swollen balloon breasts, wrapped in gauze.

Sex on Fire:  I got lipo and did my tits, too.  $15,000 for everything.  I never had nothing, no ass, no tits.  And I had too much fat in the middle.  I never try to get a man porque what I’m getting him with?

Me:  But…but…Sex on Fire, you have such a dazzling personality!  You’re beautiful.

Sex on Fire:  Now I beautiful (looks me up and down).  You don’t got ass or tits either, mami.  You need the shots, especially.  How else you get a new man?

Me:  How else, indeed.

Sex on Fire:  Butt shots, mami.  You be perfect like me.

And then she puts her clothes back on and blows out my hair like she didn’t just Shug Avery me down (“you sho is ugly!”).  And I’m thinking, please god tell me she didn’t go to one of those butchers luring chicks into hotel rooms to inject their arses with ingredients found at Home Depot.  And then I thought about “I perfect now.”  What she did was uber-extreme, but how could I judge, when my I’m all about products to make you feel more perfect.  The difference is, when you rock a hot pink lip or a shine serum, you’re enhancing what you already have, and there’s self-acceptance in that– you’re not Frankenstein-ing yourself to gain a brand new body.

I may be shaped like a straw, but I’m smart and loved and when I smudge Laura Mercier Caviar Stick Eye Colour in Steel ($24) on my lids, I feel trampy-hot and invincible (second mention, that’s how boss it is).  Plus, when Bobina looks at my Mahogany poster, she thinks Diana Ross is me.  I perfect now!

So, what do you think about the whole butt injections thing?  Have you done it?  Would you?  Bizarre or bizarrely empowering? What would Hottentot Venus think of all this?  Let’s discuss.