The Perfect Wedding Ring and the Perfect Wedding Destination

Every woman on this planet, well at least almost every woman, has their idea of the perfect wedding; from the major details such as the location and dress to the minor details of what color napkins you will have, these are all things that most women think about at some point of their lives. I certainly know that I have!

Even though I never really thought about what the perfect wedding ring would consist of, without a doubt I know that I want to get married in beautiful Hawaii. I know, I know, it may be a bit cliché but I have never been and from what I have seen from pictures, it would be the ideal place to say “I do”.

What’s amazing about choosing Hawaii as your wedding destination is that there are a ton of all-inclusive options out there that couples can choose from. Food, drinks, decorations, even transportation from the airport to the hotel can all be included in one price! Hawaii appealed to me even more; as corny as it sounds I can imagine saying my vows to the man I love on a sandy white beach with blindingly blue water in the background.

I might think about looking into something other possible destinations for my wedding, but I’m pretty sure my heart is stuck on Hawaii. Now, the only left is to just find that guy, can’t have a wedding without a groom!

Venetian Masquerade Masks: How To Look Mysterious And Beautiful At The Same Time?

I have always found Venetian Masquerade masks mysterious and beautiful at the same time, as I’m sure you have too.  I have never actually attended a masquerade ball but seeing them in movies like Romeo & Juliet, The Man In The Iron Mask, and The Masque Of The Red Death has made me long to attend on so I can dress up and wear one of these masks.  Most of the nicer masks are handmade and made with various materials depending on what kind of mask you want to wear.

The traditional Venetian Masquerade Masks were originally made out of porcelain or Paper-Mache.  But now you can get them in leather and metal as well to porcelain and Paper-Mache.  When the make the Paper-Mache mask there a process that they do to create these masks.  The first thing they do is make a mold of the mask with clay, they shape it into the desired shape and then they make a negative cast of the mask using plaster.  If you are a fan of Face Off like I am you have probably seen them do this with their masks and cowls that they make for their models to wear.

After the plaster is set, they remove the clay and start to put strips of paper in the plaster model and glue.  Once it dries they can trim the mask, cut out the eyes and paint it white.  This makes it easier to add the details later if they are working on a white canvas.  Some of the masks that are made are simple ones that just go across the eyes but other can cover your entire face and even have a headdress on them with feathers and other things to bring the mask to life.  I don’t know about you but Venetian Masquerade Masks make me want to throw a masquerade party just to see all the different kind of mask that others can find.

I spell my tie with a noose

The world is awash with pain and suffering. You don’t have to turn on the news to find all sorts of disturbing images. Let’s consider my daily routine. Take the office, for example.

My office dress code requires individuals who prefer the men’s room wear a shirt and tie in hopes of fostering a professional and productive environment. Is it effective?

The tie a man wears can tell you a lot about who he is before he even opens his mouth. Unless you’re the only man on Earth who doesn’t know how to knot one, there is only one person responsible for wrapping it around your neck. I’m looking at you, the guy who rocked a Santa Claus tie during the most miserable August in recent history and had the intestinal fortitude to go there by offering the ever awesome “it’s not the heat…” cliché with a smug look on your face. The whole office knows your soon to be ex-wife has a better lawyer than yours, OK!? A stupid tie only draws attention to how miserable your life is. Don’t inflict yourself on your co-workers. Keep in mind that with today’s economic climate, nothing is going to change. We will be stuck in this office forever. You can ill afford to make such glib attempts at humor in the future. Another heat wave is inevitable. Don’t make an unforced error. Wear the tie your mom puts out for you.

Makes a Perfect Fascinator for a Party

It once happened, as it continues to occur in Spain, that, women would wear veils and headscarves to places of worship, such as attending church for Sunday morning services. Or, if one were to view the old-fashioned portrayal of Hollywood starlets like Lupe Velez, a mantilla would adorn the glassy eyes of a repentant beauty about to cry. For these images came up in my mind when I was scheduled to attend a 1940s themed party that I nearly felt as though I was floating in the fog of some black-and-white film. Concocting a formal dress costume, or should I say, of formal attire, I conducted endless amounts of research in one of the most mesmerizing ways possible, as through the continuous viewing of film noir genre cinema.

When I managed to take down pages filled with notes, I began thoroughly looking high and low for an ensemble suitable for the upcoming occasion. Wearing a form fitting dress from women’s clothing store specializing in the authentic reproductions of the 1940s and 1950s, I added the touch of a wedding fascinator to give an air of appeal in the likes of the 1940s dames, of which few remained consistent as Dita Von Teese. Although the name of this chosen item of accessory of which I had chosen to adorn myself with, would have been of the occasion of a somber mood, such as in a funeral, or wedding, for that matter, I was surprised in learning that the guest of the evening’s event were stunned and pleased with the item, more so than my choice in dress. By the night’s end, after returning to my residence tired from the evening’s many amusements, I sat at the vanity and gently removed the wedding fascinator from the crown of my head, gently placing it on the glass of a hand held mirror.

Bungalow Turned Retreat

I was not expecting to gain much of an intellectual or insightful understanding on my most recent visit to a family member’s bungalow in the countryside. For reasons of an insidious nature, had my husband surprised me with a weekend getaway to the country, in which we were to spend our time lodging in the wooden bungalow I had come to dread awfully so. The bungalow was an old fixer upper that my cousin inherited from a now deceased uncle. It was once a place my grandparents raised six children on a farmer’s budget. Many times growing up, I recalled my mother’s storytelling of how grandmother would make all of my aunts and uncles herbal remedies of wild herbs that grew abundant around the house, and grandfather once having to grown his own tobacco when he grew tired of the stale stuff he purchased at the town’s store.

Though, those days were long gone, I grew to love the bungalow, even if it were in my imagination. It was not until I had the chance to visit the beat down bungalow as a teenager, did I recant my adorning admiration for such a place to begin with. I can only now see the folly of my ways. To say that the bungalow has since become better looking, would be an under assessment of its former appearance. You see my surprise to the refurnishing of the dilapidated once rotting wood was no more. The addition of hammock chairs even in the style of knitted crotched dream catchers was a sight my mother and relatives were sure to be taken aback by. When questioning my husband of the bungalow’s improvements, he replied “Why not just come sit down beside me on this comfortable hammock chair?”

The bow ties that bind

Bow ties get a bad rap. Men who wear them can get stuck with the stigma of being a “geek”, a “dork”, or a variety of other derogatory terms.

Outside of a tuxedo or a lost bet, I have never worn a bow tie. Not with purpose or pride, for sure. But I gained a different perspective and respect for bow ties at a young age. My best friend’s father is an ophthalmologist, and when we were little and played sports, you always knew if John’s dad was there because he was the only man wearing a bow tie. Initially (I was five), I thought he was just weird and different from the other parents at our soccer game, but I couldn’t place how.

I always called John’s dad “Dr. Renton”, but as a young boy, that different salutation didn’t mean much to me. Until my sister got sick. All of a sudden, the guy with the bow tie who bought us ice cream after soccer practice became the guy performing the surgery that saved my sister’s life. I always knew that Dr. Renton was smart, but by wearing the bowtie he made being smart a style, something to be proud of and strive for. Over twenty years later, nothing has changed. Recently, my friend John married. The day after the wedding I was a sight for sore eyes. Not Dr. Renton. Through my bleary eyes that morning, I saw him dressed smartly, wearing suspenders and a bow tie, playing chess with Mrs. Renton in the study. “You don’t need surgery, do you?”, he asked wryly. Checkmate.