Tag Archives: fashion statement

convince me to buy this

Today I had a lousy day, ending a lousy week. I don’t like to think back much further than that. Since the beach is too far away for convenience, I went and had myself some retail therapy at my favorite place: the MAC counter at Dillard’s.

I didn’t plan on buying anything, since I haven’t the past two times I went in and there’s really nothing out that I want right now. But it’s fun to window shop. And play with colors. And also I had $20 left on a gift card just in case.

So I was the only customer in there, and the girl who did my makeup the very first time (aww) was working. I decided to try some lipstick. I love gloss, but I’ve always had the mom-vibe about lipstick.

She found me a very nice pink that I will probably wear frequently. Then, feeling bold, I said, can I try a red? Like, Russian Red?

She got really excited. I put it on and she got even more excited. Then she gave my lips some definition with some liner. Then I saw what she was excited about:
Yes, my eyes really are that green, too.

Now folks, that’s just the red. There is nothing else on my face – no skincare products, no mascara, nothing. Holy crap, right?

The question is: Do I go back and buy the reds? I didn’t get them then and there because how often am I going to wear this? I mean of course it would be great on stage. Would I want to wear this in real life? I think I might. I would of course have to start whitening my teeth, but whatever. I’m going to give it a few days and sleep on it. What do you think?




Filed under Uncategorized

i’m getting a haircut tomorrow

I desperately need a haircut. My ponytail is starting to look like a legitimate horse’s tail. In fact, I don’t like that I have a ponytail in the first place. So I scheduled an appointment at Hair on Earth and hopefully it will be awesome.

Normally, when I go to Lisa (my stylist at home) I just trust her to do something fantastic, and she always has. She convinced me to try bangs for the first time in ten years. She helped me construct my favorite style ever – blonde and fire-engine red streaks. I love her. I don’t know the people I’m going to tomorrow, so I figure I should probably come up with something other than “eh, just do something cool.” So I came up with this:

1. No longer than shoulder-length.
2. Full bangs are out of the question.
3. I must be able to keep it out of my eyes easily.

Then I figured it would probably be helpful if I came up with something more specific. So I googled “hairstyles.” It came up with a lot of celebrities, high-fashion/high-maintainance, and spam. Not useful. So I tried “hairstyles for fine hair,” (because fine hair requires special treatment), which resulted in a lot more nonsense, a lot of styles that didn’t relate to fine hair at all, and a lot of contradictory statements written in disastrous grammar.

It also produced a link to finehair.com. A relatively professional website, compared to all the other ones dedicated to hair, it looked promising. I started browsing.

It appears to be one woman dedicated to working with fine hair. She developed and sells her own line of products. Her writing is pretty bad. She takes questions from The Public and answers them the best she can, nothing I haven’t heard before. I get bored of reading and head over to the photos section.

I’m expecting it to be a bunch of celebrities having nothing to do with fine hair (like on the front page), but no. These are actual customers. And they made me want to cancel my appointment tomorrow. Because if this is the revolution in fine hair, count me out.

I go for Long Hair styles first. (Please, please click these links and scroll to see the pictures. They make this whole post worth it.) These women… are all blonde. And these styles are universally unflattering. Moving onto Short Hair styles. Bunch of post-menopausal women with the traditional short, curly/wavy hair. And a man, for some reason. WOW, REVOLUTIONARY! I’VE NEVER SEEN AN OLDER WOMAN WITH HAIR LIKE THAT BEFORE!

Moving onto Curly styles. This was my favorite. I actually laughed. None of them actually have curly hair. One woman’s face is blurred out, and this girl looks like she woke up in 1993 on the Jurassic Park set during the tropical storm:
could her hair look any worse?







So I finish my laugh and skip Straight styles and head to Frizzy, because my hair does frizz! Nah, nothing interesting there. Just more middle-aged blondes.

Backing up to Straight styles even though my hair isn…HOLY SHIT! IT’S FRANZ LISZT! AND SHE’S A WOMAN!
I swear.






So if you believe in prayer, please pray for me tomorrow. Because unless it turns me into a legendary pianist, I don’t want to look like this.

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Filed under story time, this actually happened

when moms call

The Alphabet Singers have been relatively nice to me this week, for which I am very thankful, since it’s been a hell of a week otherwise. Last night I decided to take some personal time, so I finally saw The King’s Speech (go see it). I made dinner, was in bed by 10, put down my book and was asleep by 11.

I woke at 8:30 and decided I wasn’t getting up just yet. At 10:17 my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar Florida number so I let it go to voicemail. I then started getting texts like crazy and wondered what the deuce everyone could want on a Saturday morning. I didn’t look at them. It had been a long enough week and could at least wait until I showered.

I finally got up around 10:40. One text was from Jeff (who will be getting a post of his own very soon) :

Jeff (10:20) I might have just sent you $? that phone call was a gig for a high schooler who needs a pianist like whoa.
Me (10:42) Oh snap thanks!

I figured he/she was doing a gig this week of some kind and needed a pianist fast. (Or maybe an audition soon.) Because that’s why high schoolers need pianists. I did laundry. I had breakfast. I showered. Around 1pm I decided I was ready to deal with it and could finally get down to business. I checked the voicemail. This is it, to the best of my memory (I have since deleted it).

Voicemail: Hi, this is Carol [or Sheryl?] Smith [possibly?] and I’m currently in the music library. My daughter is a flutist and needs an accompanimist [yep]. They said she could go in at any time. My number is xxx [pause] xxx [long pause] xx [long pause] xx. Thanks.

She sounded flustered, if not flat out desperate. And she gave me almost no information to go on, apparently assuming I knew what she knew. Which I clearly didn’t. Why are you in the music library? Where exactly was your daughter “going in?” And why at “any time?” Why not a specified time? It sounded a bit like an execution.

Then things started to click: it was apparently an audition day that I didn’t know about. Even though the last one was two weeks ago and they’re usually about a month apart? Either way. And of course it’s a mother calling, because high schoolers don’t call. And of course she couldn’t say “accompanist” or “pianist” because she’s probably never had to, and probably never seen it in print, and pianists are third-class citizens. But don’t they have pianists hired specifically for audition days? People to sit in the audition room and sightread music? What is going on?

I called and left her a voicemail, something to the effect of:

Me: Hi, this is Liz Remizowski, you called me earlier about playing for your daughter. Sorry I didn’t get the message until now. If you’re still interested I will be around the school most of the rest of the day, so just give me a call at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Thanks.

I figured it was too late by then, but what could I do. Approaching the school, the traffic jam in the parking garage confirmed that something was happening – not to mention the amount of alternately awkward/overzealous children dressed uncomfortably. I drew lots of stares from parents, with my Saranac sweatshirt, Birkenstocks, Starbucks, still-wet hair, and au naturel countenance. Yes, this is what a real college musician looks like on a Saturday.

In the library I found out today was not audition day, but “solo and ensemble day” or something to that effect, which I equated to Florida’s version of NYSSMA. Which I always try to avoid at all costs.

I never got a call back from anyone. Which at that point, I pretty much expected. But I still want to know – how do you go to a solo festival knowing you’ll need a pianist and not have one arranged somehow beforehand? Either make sure the school is providing one, your high school is providing one, or get one yourself. How does this happen?


Filed under adventures in accompanying, this actually happened

caution: animal crossing

I had been rehearsing all morning. I was wearing a zebra-striped shirt, jeans, black flats, carrying a large black bag. It got to be about 3pm and I needed lunch. I drove home. I decided to get ingredients for soup, because soup is always awesome. This called for a trip to the Fresh Market.

I wasn’t about to go grocery shopping with my giant black bag and all its contents (binder of vocal music, various other pieces, metronome, planner, etc), so I transferred the essentials (wallet, keys, phone) to my much more reasonably-sized giraffe-print fall bag and headed out the door.

You’ve probably spotted the problem already. Long before I did. I spotted it as I parked at Fresh Market. I was wearing zebra and giraffe print. Two bold animal prints. In white/dark brown. Enough to land me on What Not To Wear. I got a few odd looks. I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t also throw on my leopard-print flats. I would have looked like the Serengeti.

On the other hand, would getting on What Not To Wear be so bad? I’m guessing they’d let me keep maybe half my wardrobe and buy me the replacement. Because frankly I can’t afford to upgrade it myself. I would undertake that beating for a new wardrobe in a heartbeat. I’ve said it before: I will happily dress like a bum for two weeks to get a new wardrobe.

So, just as a warning, if you happen to see me dressed as the Serengeti, I’ve decided that free clothes are temporarily worth more than pride. Also, please take pictures and nominate me. Thank you.


Filed under this actually happened