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Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

The Bathroom: Microcosm for Fascism, Communism, and Capitalism

Snarkattack — Fri, 10 Nov 2006 16:00:08 EST

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their pets. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their subordinates. Personally speaking, you can also tell a lot about a person's nature if you pay particular attention to their bathroom etiquette. I don't mean hygiene habits, though god knows you can tell an awful lot about a person based upon those. I mean things like how considerate they are of others if the bathroom is shared, and so on. The bathroom has become a much-loved place over the last three years. I’ve discovered wonderful, relaxing, sensory pleasures. Bubble baths, fizzes, soaks, milks, powder, grains, soaps -- you name it. And oh! The delicious scents that emanate from a bathroom after such things are employed! Vanilla, jasmine, chamomile, lavender, honey, angelica, rose petals, milk powder -- they not only do things for the nose, but also for one's well-being.Before I started dabbling in bath luxuries, my use of the bathroom was strictly practical. Make sure those pigtails are symmetrical, and that school tie knotted properly. I often joked that my brother was plenty vain enough for the two of us. He’d spent a good deal of the last thirteen or so years preening in front of the mirror. One has to look good for one’s public, after all!In the golden age of our bathroom's fascist regime, coinciding with that damn nuisance called puberty, we could call my brother the dictator. He would completely lose it over important issues such as toilet paper, as one does. What the hell? He would accuse me of leaving only enough paper on the roll to avoid changing it for a new one. Or of forgetting to replace a used-up roll (which only happened when I was in a rush!) and -- my personal favourite -- going ballistic over the paper hanging down too low for when he was standing up.And I thought I was a nutjob.Thankfully, Il Duce’s reign chez moi passed quickly (thank you, end of teenagehood). Zip ten years forward, almost to the present day. A certain famous Marxist spectre began to haunt our bathroom.One might recall the previous mention of my brother making fun of my love for all things stereotypically girlie, and of my recent bathroom splurging habits as a recent development. One thing I would like to point out is that, while I might spend more than one should on these silly things, I am also willing to share them. My brother, who works full time, isn’t the most generous of folk. Well, unless you beg. Ironically, he was much more generous when he was unemployed. Perhaps now he feels the world owes him something because he's a working man (more like a chav in a business suit, says I). Not all of my indulgences are exclusively for females. I was pleased to note that upon visiting a male friend's bedsit a while back, said friend had a jar of Aesop body moisturiser. Ooh! Same brand as my night cream. It was this very night cream my brother and I were sharing. It ain't cheap, but it's bloody good stuff, so I fork out willingly. Naturally, the jar emptied at a considerably quicker rate than when I was the sole user. So I very tentatively suggested we go halves on the cost of the next jar:ME (very timidly): Uh, I was wondering...would you mind going halves on the next jar of the Aesop moisturiser? I mean, it's not cheap and, um, seeing as we're both using it...HIM (in grunt-like fashion): Oh well, I suppose I'll have to, won't I? (Which really sounded like: Uh-wol-ahs'pose-I-ah-to, wooo-I? Sorry, I don't understand 'grunt' all that fluently, I doubt many of you will either.)In classic passive-aggressive 'I-think-you're-a-selfish-bastard' mentality, I removed the products I'd been so willing to share and put them on my shelf space in the bathroom cupboard. You might be thinking "what an immature cow!" but please note I’d been choosing to ignore the fact he was consuming, at a somewhat colossal rate, one of my favourite shower gels. He used up more of my Lush 'Flying Fox' than I did! Sob. It’s not quite as dear as the facial moisturiser, so I hadn't minded as much. But the money wasn't the only issue here, it was more the distinct lack of consideration. A part of me feels he should be moved to contribute towards the cost of something jointly consumed, but apparently not. My mother suggested I order him to cough up, but that would be very mean-spirited, even for me.There are other things that really piss me off about his bathroom etiquette. The list is extensive, and I’ve confirmed with third parties that some of it is just plain disgusting. But I can happily ignore those as long as he doesn’t start using up my lovely stuff. Until he’s willing to chip in, my stuff stays on my shelf. So apparently, the bathroom is now in a 'user pays' zone. How wonderfully capitalist of us. Rather sad, but, alas, very much reflecting the state of the developed world.

The author going by the name of Snarkattack was born in the UK, and moved to Australia at the age of eight.

She is a former music school rebel who now wrestles with mental illness and various pathological obsessions including but not limited to cats, lipgloss, bath products, any decent literature, poetry, and music. You can catch her various ramblings on her blog. She passes as a published poet in some circles.

Beauty and Sadness

Snarkattack — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 17:44:43 EDT

I wasn’t very happy with the last article I tried to write, hence a delay in this one’s appearance. Inspiration was at a bit of a low, due to my dismay over my previous article’s poor conception. Thank goodness for television. There I was, moping with my laptop, and Dr. 90210 comes on in the background. It’s a series, part reality show, part documentary (yes, there is a difference) and typically follows the day in a life of a cosmetics surgeon, as well as one of his patients -- the location being Beverly Hills, California, USA.So… what’s with the title then, you’re wondering? Cosmetic surgeons’ lives can’t be all that sad and no, according to this show, they don’t seem to be. They’re not perfect either. Sadness of the patients, perhaps? Closer. Actually, I just chose that title because it is also the name of a novel by former Japanese Nobel prize winning author Yasunari Kawabata. Thought it might impress you or trick you into thinking I’m smart. (It’s all bluff! Sadly, I’ve not yet read this novel of Kawabata’s). Seriously, now, I thought it a very fitting title because one can read that title in so many ways: beauty as a cause of sadness (because one does not possess it), beauty is sadness (because now it can be bought), or the notion of beauty obscuring what truly makes one sad – using one’s appearance to hide emotional pains and so forth.It does also apply more literally: I feel sad to learn of a teenager, who seems pretty bloody gorgeous to me, resorting to cosmetic surgery at the age of seventeen and her mother wholeheartedly approving. The mother, who deserves credit for supporting her daughter’s decision, explains that if it will make her daughter happier about herself, then why not have cosmetic surgery? Her daughter is visiting a cosmetic surgeon because she wants a breast augmentation. This is slightly worrying, to me at least. First of all, she’s seventeen. Her body will not yet have stopped growing, or developing. Also, her mother supporting the daughter’s decision – what kind of message is this giving her child? That good looks (of a stylised kind) are important and that it’s perfectly normal to fork out however much it is for a boob job? That her daughter could not be considered beautiful without the aid of what looks to be a fairly invasive procedure? I’ve witnessed a few nose jobs on this series and even that looks… violent.You probably think I’m overreacting, but let me explain. If these sorts of procedures become more culturally acceptable, then a particular definition of what is considered attractive becomes narrow, and even worse, tenacious. It becomes locked in to people’s minds that you need to look like blah blah blah in order to be considered attractive when in fact there are countless definitions of beauty, of attractiveness. At least in my mind. I’m hoping that I’m not alone in this view.Oh, and need I remind people that purely physical attributes do not completely help in this definition? For people like me, thank bloody god. You knew that though, didn’t you, canny reader? Let’s face it, if I were an absolute hottie, I’d probably be at some pub frequented by randy uni students and allowing them to sprinkle salt on risqué spots on my curvaceous form so that they can lick it off as part of the mandatory tequila slammers. I wouldn’t be here, admitting to you that I’ve even heard of the series Dr. 90210 let alone viewed it. I digress, again -- always making it about me. Enough jokes: this seventeen-year-old says she’s getting bigger boobs so she can go to the beach. What, so she can’t go to the beach with her current, natural breasts? She isn’t even flat-chested! Personally speaking, I think it may have something to do with cosmetic surgery being more culturally acceptable in the States, because of its popularity. The surgeon who will be operating on the girl says, and I paraphrase, that some kids want a new car when they graduate while some girls want a new rack. A new rack? She’s a person, not a piece of meat! He could have said ‘a new look’, or ‘a better/different body’, but the phrase ‘new rack’ implies that there was something wrong with the old one, or that it wasn’t all that good to begin with. The human reduced to an object that can be replaced, upgraded, modified, and so forth. I guess in ten years’ time, I’ll find out I’m really a Replicant, won’t I? Sheesh.Aside from the much-maligned media, a part of me wants to pin this generalised lack of self-esteem on the mother. Yes, I understand it’s a hard task raising a child, hence my vowing never to do it (mainly for medical reasons) but after nearly a decade of therapy, it’s become pretty clear to me that the mother-daughter relationship can be as constructive as it is destructive. It sounds painfully obvious, but it doesn’t seem to be, at least in my magical universe. Again, we return to the teenager. I find myself wondering why her mother hasn’t told her that there are more important things in life than having nice funbags to fill your bikini, or why she shouldn’t wait a few years till her body reaches full maturity. Or that her daughter is beautiful the way she is. Or that this could lead to a lifetime obsession with attaining the perfect physical appearance (the breast augmentation would be her second cosmetic procedure. She had already had a nose job) Perhaps the cameras didn’t capture any of that dialogue?Oh, but hang on, what about peer pressure? Surely this teen’s friends have something to do with her not being fully pleased with her own appearance. Of course. Apart from the media, who reinforces their ideas of what is beautiful or not? Their parents is my guess. I knew one morbidly obese girl in high school who delighted in reminding me just how far from perfect my physical appearance was – so as to deflect attention no doubt from her own issues. I just tried to block it out as much as possible. It didn’t really seem very different from my own mother’s ranting about what I should be wearing. Nobody likes to be told they’re ugly, but I sailed through high school thinking that surely there were more important things, and it turned out to be true. There must be some other ways to boost the self-esteem of people, and I know parents aren’t fully to blame, but they don’t take on as active a role in nurturing their children’s confidence as they could. When they do have any influence, we only remember the negative. It took my own mother a very long time to realise or admit that she was responsible for some of my self-esteem issues and despite how destructive it has been, it hasn’t actually made her stop. But hey, she’s probably treating me the only way she knows how – by passing on what she experienced from her own mother. It’s all rather sad. You’d think parents would cotton on and realise that boosting their childrens’ self-confidence is actually cheaper in the long run! Think about it: if you have healthy self-confidence, then you don’t need to fork out money for the boob job, or therapy later on down the line. Hmm, come to think of it, perhaps my folks would have been better to just get me ‘a new rack’ – it would have worked out cheaper than all that money spent on therapy. I’ve always wanted bigger breasts – these days, who doesn’t?

The author going by the name of Snarkattack was born in the UK, and moved to Australia at the age of eight.

A Time To Cull

Snarkattack — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 08:43:06 EDT

I have this dreadful habit and hope my admitting it will mean you won’t judge me too harshly. When I am depressed (that being clinically depressed, as opposed to just feeling really sad), I am seized by the desire to buy lots of pretty things. Topping that list would be lipgloss.It’s easier not to feel quite so guilty about splurging on bath products because they do get used up. I’ll have bath fizzes, solid bubble bath bars, and powders in sachets stashed in my beloved bath box, threatening to spill over, but in a month or two they’re gone. That’s fine -- at least that which is bought is consumed rather than wasted.Alas, not so with lipgloss, or even eyeshadow. In some ways, I wish I could be a bit more like my mother. She will actually finish lipstick tubes and has only five or so that are used regularly and used evenly. Then, when one is finished, she’ll go out and repurchase the same shade. In my personal opinion, wearing the same colour palette for the last twenty or so years is not always flattering and she would do well to consider different colours for various types of light (daytime or nighttime), and occasions -- but that’s another issue to be discussed later. At least she is making very good use of what she has.I need to start doing the same. Either I can choose to have a lot of lipgloss, and use it more often, or cut down on buying the damn stuff. I’ve chosen to do the latter. So, I’ve devised some guidelines to help me get rid of items that haven’t even been used, and banish those I no longer use.I regret that moment when I jokingly adopted the following phrase throughout some of my worst depressive episodes: “A girl (or girl at heart, regardless of age or gender, let’s be inclusive, shall we?) can never have too much lipgloss.”Um, yes, she can. It pains me to admit it, but it’s true. Onto the guidelines for culling the lipgloss and eyeshadow collection.1. Does the colour suit me?Yeah, it looked hot on your friend Gwendolynne or on that sexy glam rock god in that new band, but are my skintone, hair, and eye colour anything like theirs? Sadly no. So, if it makes me look like I’ve been painted for my casket viewing, it’s very likely I’ll end up neglecting it (unless I happen to need that particular look, and I seriously doubt that will be the case, especially as I plan to be cremated). No usage = not necessary to own. Unless it looks awful but I plan to wear it anyway, it can go. 2. Is it similar to anything I already have?I’ll illustrate with an example. I have three MAC lipglosses, all limited edition (MAC is extraordinarily fond of making items limited edition so the masses run out to acquire them like some bloodthirsty horde). Their names are Bare Fetish, a milk chocolate colour, translucent with slight shimmer; Sable, as above, but with enough mauve and a hint of green pearlescence to make this significantly different to the aforementioned; and Taupe Notch, smack-bang in the middle colour-wise between the previous two. Taupe Notch, you’re fired!3. How often am I likely to use it?Lately, my mental health has been very good. The best it’s been in the last four years, in fact. I mention this because when I’m happy, I’m much more likely to want to make effort with my appearance and enjoy the effort needed to do so. It might not make sense, but I feel more worthy of wearing makeup. Odd, but that's how it works. So, my little Urban Decay Hotpants lip gunk, this means you’ll be getting some serious usage this (Southern Hemisphere) spring! As will any lip product that resembles my lip colour (it helps to deter me from biting my lips). It’s also going to be fun wearing flirty teal green eyeshadows on lids. However, six such eyeshadows (admittedly of varying textures, but come on, that’s just an excuse!)??? Oh, come on now, that’s just ridiculous! Perhaps two are worth holding onto but four have to go.I have a fairly big pile of things whose fate is undecided. At the beginning of last week, I took four brand new things from this pile and they were the beginning of a ‘for sale’ pile. Later, a few more additions -- three for the ‘maybe’ pile and one for the sale pile, then another two for the maybes. So far, I’ve decided to keep two items. It’s going to take a really long time to get through this pile of cosmetic treasures, but I will not be swayed from the path! I may even consent to having a friend or two help me be brutal in my cull. Wish me luck; I’m really going to need it.It would also be great to hear of anyone who has been able to cull their own collections. Is it possible? If you think so, then feel free to share your story or confess that you have a similar problem! I'm sure there must be some people out there who can identify with my weakness.

The author going by the name of Snarkattack was born in the UK, and moved to Australia at the age of eight.

What's In Your Shower?

Snarkattack — Sun, 20 Aug 2006 17:05:59 EDT

A while back I wrote how you can tell a lot about a person by their bathroom etiquette. Of course, the same could be said of what one has in one’s shower cubicle or bath. I don’t dare to list the entire contents of my actual cabinet -- we’d be here forever and I doubt anyone would appreciate reading that.This is a list of what is in my shower/bathtub in the order of usage. Dermalogica special cleansing gel This is for the face and gets rid of all the dirt and oils that build up throughout the day. It’s also very gentle, more so than regular soap intended for the body. Stila Petal infusions retexturising scrub Again, for the face, this combined with a good diet (and good genes, if we're lucky!), helps to minimise pore blockage, as these can go on to form blemishes. It also aids in the removal of dead skin cells to reveal clearer, smoother looking skin (gosh, I sound like an advert!). Scrubs, sometimes referred to as exfoliants, also help the fading of scars and marks. This particular one is called a microfoliant, meaning it is gentle enough for everyday usage (I’m too lazy for that -- I use mine 2-4 times a week depending on how my skin feels).Kusco-Murphy O-ssential Wash This is a shampoo I’d never tried before, from a brilliant Australian brand. My scalp was in awful condition recently so I thought I’d try this because it contains no sodium laureth sulphate. SLSs are generally responsible for the lathering effect in bath products and detergents. The trouble is they can be pretty harsh on our skin (especially when it is the first or second ingredient listed -- ingredients being listed in order of quantity, largest to smallest). I’m happy to report my scalp is no longer itchy and flaky -- sweet relief, because it wasn’t exactly pretty. Alchemy macadamia and wheat conditioner Squeeze out all the excess moisture, then massage this through your tresses and you too can look as gorgeous as a Tolkien elfin princess. Well, back when my hair was actually past my butt (and real, if you needed to ask!) I so wish I had used this! It makes your hair feel like silk. The Alchemy brand is also very special in that their products contain no sulphates, parabens, petrochemicals, byproducts thereof, or silicones. It gets better too: ingredients are all organic, vegan, and animal cruelty-free. Now tell me, what is not to like? I might just grow my hair again.Philosophy ‘3 in 1s’ in Hot cocoa, and vanilla cupcake What is meant by ‘3-in-1s’, you might ask? It means you can use this product as a shampoo, a shower gel, and as bubble bath. I only use it as a shower gel but as shampoo too when I’m traveling. Again, it’s fab for sensitive skin. I’ve tried so many of these as they come in dozens of scents. The hot cocoa one smells exactly like the real thing and is my absolute favourite for winter. They also have recipes for whatever it is they are supposed to smell like. Mmm, yum. Now I want marshmallows (with my hot cocoa). Lush ‘Flying Fox’ bath & shower gel From looking at the bottle, you can see just how much honey they’ve put into this indulgent shower gel! Add jasmine and angelica, and it’s a recipe for heaven -- and apparently chosen because they help to elevate your mood if you’re depressed (it’s worked for me!). Some investigation led to discovering that my brother was also enamoured of this. He said he wanted to try it because it claimed to help banish PMS. No, I don’t understand that either, but hey, if it makes him smell nice and less likely to grunt when spoken to, I’m all for it.So hopefully this list has indulged some beauty addict’s voyeuristic urges (I personally love reading lists of what beauty delights others are using. That doesn’t include celebrities; that’s blah). If you feel inclined to share your lists, please feel free to do so below in comments. Oh, and pay a little attention to what exactly goes into your toiletries and personal hygiene products. Try to find out about what those ingredients are there for, and what they do in the product -- bearing in mind that natural products, in certain forms, can be bad for us just as synthetic ones can be.

The author going by the name of Snarkattack was born in the UK, and moved to Australia at the age of eight.

The Discovery of Beauty: A Personal Account

Snarkattack — Sun, 13 Aug 2006 06:13:03 EDT

I like to think of myself as an educated woman: finishing high school was mandatory in my mind, and attending university afterwards was definitely the goal. Despite it being much maligned in some circles, I got a BA. To study the humanities is to learn how people think, what makes society what it is today. To explore the various aspects of existence. One would assume that a person who has this sort of academic background would know better than to be sucked into marketing hype over the next brand spanking new limited edition lipgloss – especially when it resembles at least a dozen other lipglosses I own... Wrong. I am not immune. Despite reading those cultural theorists harp on about Marxism and the oppression of the working classes, or poststructuralism politely informing us grace à Jean Baudrillard that everything has been done before and that the ‘original’ of an object no longer exists rah rah rah, you dangle bath products that resemble sweets, or lip products in the most adorable packaging with a cute yet saucy name and bang! All such learning is blissfully tossed out the window and I’m pulled towards these pretty yet unnecessary things as if by a tractor beam. (You know, like on the classic arcade game Galaga?)Pretty sad, isn’t it? I figure as long as I’m not in debt and my so-called poison of choice isn’t bad for my health in the way recreational drugs or smoking tobacco etc. is, it’s all peachy... right?Of course, I wasn’t always a mindless drone in regards to beauty - admittedly I’m exaggerating ever so slightly. My high school years were truly miserable, because my mother was fairly strict and concerned that an interest in anything even hinting at burgeoning sexuality would end up with me sullying the family name. Beautification, for me, was therefore largely associated with shame and fear, not something to embrace or celebrate. What was the point of bettering one’s appearance at a time when I should have been focussing on my studies? Besides, all that nice girl stuff cost money and I was apparently expensive and wasteful enough, Western-born ingrate that I was.My blissful transformation began with a little trip back to my birthplace – London – in 2002. I stayed with a family we’d known for as long as I could remember, in Croydon. I became closest to the lady, a woman my mother’s age, and her youngest son. Our bonding was significantly helped by shopping – both browsing and purchasing.It turned out that my new little brother loved shopping, and not just for himself. It was so much fun going clothes shopping, finding all these nice things that fit me properly, and having the benefit of his opinion. He was extremely patient and had a good eye for this stuff. This was getting to be very... infectious.It got better – or worse, perhaps? I’d be accompanying my adopted mother into town and one day I stumbled upon my future holy grail: behold... the lipgloss.I still remember it – it was BeneFit’s 'She Shells', a white compact made to look like a seashell. You flipped the top open to reveal the gloss and on the other side a (fake) black pearl.“Wow...Nanay, come see this!” I showed her my new find (‘Nanay’ being the Filipino/Tagalog word for ‘mother’). “Look at that packaging, it’s amazing!!!” At least, I’d never seen anything like it.“D’you want it?”“Er...no, I was just – ““No no no, let me get it for you – ““Um, but really I don’t need it I was just – ““Be quiet child, you can try it, alright?” It was out of my hands and you can’t argue with these diminutive Asian mothers – best just to shut up and do as you’re told. I could hear my mother’s disapproval in my mind though she was in a different hemisphere. Secretly... I was ecstatic! From that moment on, trips into Croydon town became a happy occurrence, as did the acquiring of similar such indulgences.It gradually became clear to me that wearing makeup or paying attention to one’s appearance didn’t necessarily make you vain or shallow – it was another method of self-expression, just like when I played my musical instruments or wrote my silly poetry. It is nice to look good, or feel that you look "passable" but what I fill my brain with will always be of primary importance. Thus, I come to the aim of this column: a "brainy" person's guide to beauty. It isn’t going to just be discussion on products, but other issues too like the testing of ingredients and/or products on animals (which I personally abhor), what to avoid if you value your health or have sensitive skin, and so on.I suspect, however, that there will be a good deal of gushing on the best lipglosses ever, or bath salts. Like I said at the beginning, I’m not immune to the marketing ploys of the industry, and I’m willing to admit it. That dratted arts degree was wasted on me after all.

The author going by the name of Snarkattack was born in the UK, and moved to Australia at the age of eight.