It took me a long time to become a "girl." I have always had all of the requisite parts, but my interests were never particularly "girly." As a kid, I didn't like dressing up or playing "house." My parents were thrilled when they realized that they had spawned the only female child alive who didn't want a "Barbie." I remember wondering why all of my friends wanted them so badly - to me they were stupid to play with because "dressing" is not playing, and they weren't cuddly and they couldn't even stand up on their own. I liked running around and climbing trees and playing with Lego. As I got older I became fascinated with horses, and worked on farms and ranches on and off for twenty years. I was never a fashion plate, and I remember, on more than one occasion, trying to walk out the door to go to a dance or a party while my mother begged me to put some makeup on before I went out.
"You're so pale!" she would cry. (Note: She was right. My mother has beautiful dark skin and hair and my father is very fair. I got her dark hair and his pale skin which means that I look like I have tuberculosis from October to May. My brother got her hair and her skin and my dad's blue eyes and looks like a movie star. Needless to say, he does NOT look like he has tuberculosis.) Sometimes I would grudgingly stomp back upstairs to put some lipstick on, but I never really learned what I was doing.
As I got older and embarked on my teaching career I slowly begain to embrace more feminine things. I wear a little bit of makeup to work now, and most of my horse-ranch wardrobe is gone (Note: MOST.) I have a shoe collection that, much to my surprise, has totally grown out of my control. And ... I sometimes go to a spa.
I was 29 when I first went to a spa. It is burned in my memory because I wanted to surprise my best friend with something really special for her 30th birthday, and I had planned it a month in advance. I blew my paycheque on a package that included massages, manicures, pedicures and a hair wash and style at a swankydank place in downtown Toronto. My plan had been to keep our destination a secret until we walked through the front doors of the spa but such was my excitement that I blurted it out before we even left my apartment. It was worth every penny; we emerged relaxed, massaged, buffed and polished, feeling like two cosmopolitan, mature, worldly women. It is an experience that everyone should get to try at least once.
It pains me to reveal to you, gentle reader, that until now this experience has NOT been available to everyone. There is a vital demographic that has been rudely deprived of this opportunity to explore the mature, cosmopolitan and worldly aspects of their personalities. I am, of course, talking about little tiny prepubescent girls! How long can this persecution continue?
Fear not, valiant consumer - this marketplace deficit has been noticed and addressed. Spa providers such as the "Glama Gals," "Glamour Tweens" and "Peaches and Cream" cater exclusively to girls as young as three, providing all of the essentials that you would find at any Yorkville Spa. And to think that I waited until my late twenties to pay another person to buff my toenails!
The "Glama Gals" who cater only to children under 16 years old, will bring everything necessary for a birthday or slumber party spa experience to a lucky girl's home. Kids can indulge in "Chocolicious" or "Tutti-Frutti" facials, "Chocolate Ice Cream"manicures or pedicures or makeup application sessions. Their goals are lofty; they hope that the particupants feel like "royalty" and establish a sense of identity. As the "Gals" state on their website:
"We feel empowered by our decisions and experiences and want to take part, even if it's just for a day, in sharing this empowerment with young girls in our community. Glama Gal Party is about Celebrating HER! It's taking a moment to celebrate being a girl and all that comes with being a girl. It's not just about dressing up, hair and make-up; although ask a 7 year old and this is what it's ALL about!"
These spa parties sure sound fun, and they certainly have impressive testimonials on their site! Consider this comment from a mother in Richmond Hill:
"The glama Gals are professional and organized right to the end and 10 year old girls have seen and done it all so to impress them is a feat it itself."
The tenth birthday party (finally ... double digits!) seems to be a big one for the Glama Gals:
"Julia's 10th birthday party was the best & EASIEST party we have ever hosted for her. The girls were so excited and happy with their makeovers."
But let's not forget those other lifechanging, "landmark" birthdays that are often such a nightmare to plan:
"Thanks so much for making my daughter's 4th birthday party such a hit."
Look, I am not trying to be a jerk here. All of the testimonials emphasize the professionalism, kindness and humour of the "Glama Gal" staff, and of this I have no doubt. And maybe it's not that different than little girls dressing up in their mothers' old clothes and clomping around the house in too-big high heels. But should kids know what a day at the spa entails before they know what a day at school entails? Do they need to be "made over" before they have had the opportunity to define their identity for themselves in the first place? Have 10 year old girls really "seen and done it all?" Really?
Moms - girls are going to be making themselves up and fretting about their appearance for THE REST OF THEIR LIVES. Give them a few worry-free years before their morning routines get stretched to accomodate hairstyling and makeup application. A birthday party should include snow down the pants, a jump in the leaves or grass stains on the knees of old jeans. A swim in a pool. Some good old fattening cake. Hide and seek and balloons. Soccer. Movies and popcorn.
If you are really stumped for an idea for a girls' birthday party, call me. I'll take them horseback riding.
A
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Girls Just Want to Have Fun
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Grave Expectations
I have walked through a cemetery every day for the last six months and enjoyed every second of it.
I have always felt torn about living in downtown Toronto. One the one hand, I love the multiculturalism and excitement of living in a big city, and have been able to take advantage of the theatres, concert halls and galleries that are at my doorstep. On the other hand, I am an avid camper, hiker and horseback rider, and yearn to be away from big buildings and garish city lights.
Last spring, I decided to start looking for a condo after a giant flood and a negligent landlord made my apartment unlivable. I had to move out of the rubble, but I had grown accustomed to a wonderful lifestyle; I lived on a quiet, treed street and could walk to work in fifteen minutes. I desperately wanted to continue walking to work; I had moved closer to my school in the first place to eliminate being crammed into streetcars, subways and buses during rush hour. I also didn't want to live on the 52nd floor of a high rise, like a veal fattening in my cage, waiting for slaughter. It occurred to me that there was only one place I could live next to mature trees, walk to work and get to a subway station in 10 minutes - and that was next to the Mount Pleasant Cemetery.
In 1876, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery site north of Yonge and St. Clair was a relatively small piece of land outside of the Toronto city limits. Today it is 205 acres of tranquil beauty in the heart of Toronto's "uptown". William Lyon Mackenzie King is buried there, as are Banting and Best (the first medical practitioners to distill insulin), the Eaton family, Northrup Frye and Glenn Gould. The cemetery is threaded with paved paths, and it is used by nearby residents as a sort of park; people walk, run and bike through it, or take a book on summer days and read.
Despite all of this, I found that not everyone understood why I wanted to live next to a cemetery and, if possible, have a balcony overlooking it. "Wouldn't you be creeped out, living next to all of those graves?" they asked. "Wouldn't you be scared?" As if that isn't enough, friends of mine who bought a unit in a building down the street from me had to sign a contract that specified that if they felt that their unit was haunted because of its location, they could not sue the developers. I am not kidding about this.
Once and for all, all of you "aren't you scared?" folks , let's take a minute to think about the "worst case" scenarios for those who live near cemeteries. Clearly the worst things I would be dealing with are: Vampires, Ghosts and Zombies. I'll deal with them individually.
Vampires: As a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" fan, I am well versed in methods of dealing with these guys. The best defense is the fact that they can't come into your house unless you invite them. Heck, they probably couldn't even get past Roger, my building's front desk concierge, who takes his job VERY seriously. My friend Graham came to visit me last weekend and it took him AGES just to get the guy to call up to verify that I was expecting a guest. There's no way that Vampy McSuckerton could get past him!
Ghosts: Ghosts are all filmy and floaty, right? If a ghost is coming after me for some reason, I doubt that my moving closer to a graveyard would make a difference - travel is a snap for them. I don't think that my condo building is built on an ancient Indian burial ground, but even if it were, I think that ghosts would be the most pissed at people in the underground parking and on the first floor; I'm all the way up on the fifth. Besides, I am sure that the whacking great condo fees I pay every month probably cover spectral malevolence.
Zombies: The issue with zombies is that they travel in large groups reminiscent of the bus tours that bring senior citizens to Toronto to see stage productions of "We Will Rock You" or "Dirty Dancing." Even if they could get past Roger, their groaning would alert me to their presence and, as they move at a speed of approximately 5mph, I could pack a bag, take a shower, make a snack and then escape on foot before they made it to my unit.
Our love of horror movies aside, why do we hang on to ridiculous fears about cemeteries? Seriously - I LOVE living next door. It is downtown green space in a city of 3 million that is not under the threat of "development." This morning I heard the first herald of spring - birds singing in the 60 year old trees just outside my bedroom window (I did get that graveyard-view balcony, by the way!) Most of all, as I walk on those paths to and from work I am struck by the symbols of love and respect that are all around me. The people who rest in Mount Pleasant Cemetery have been reduced to their organic components, but the people who designed their graves have done the very best they can to preserve the memory of a person they loved. It's a beautiful place, and I feel honored to pass through it every day.
I have always felt torn about living in downtown Toronto. One the one hand, I love the multiculturalism and excitement of living in a big city, and have been able to take advantage of the theatres, concert halls and galleries that are at my doorstep. On the other hand, I am an avid camper, hiker and horseback rider, and yearn to be away from big buildings and garish city lights.
Last spring, I decided to start looking for a condo after a giant flood and a negligent landlord made my apartment unlivable. I had to move out of the rubble, but I had grown accustomed to a wonderful lifestyle; I lived on a quiet, treed street and could walk to work in fifteen minutes. I desperately wanted to continue walking to work; I had moved closer to my school in the first place to eliminate being crammed into streetcars, subways and buses during rush hour. I also didn't want to live on the 52nd floor of a high rise, like a veal fattening in my cage, waiting for slaughter. It occurred to me that there was only one place I could live next to mature trees, walk to work and get to a subway station in 10 minutes - and that was next to the Mount Pleasant Cemetery.
In 1876, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery site north of Yonge and St. Clair was a relatively small piece of land outside of the Toronto city limits. Today it is 205 acres of tranquil beauty in the heart of Toronto's "uptown". William Lyon Mackenzie King is buried there, as are Banting and Best (the first medical practitioners to distill insulin), the Eaton family, Northrup Frye and Glenn Gould. The cemetery is threaded with paved paths, and it is used by nearby residents as a sort of park; people walk, run and bike through it, or take a book on summer days and read.
Despite all of this, I found that not everyone understood why I wanted to live next to a cemetery and, if possible, have a balcony overlooking it. "Wouldn't you be creeped out, living next to all of those graves?" they asked. "Wouldn't you be scared?" As if that isn't enough, friends of mine who bought a unit in a building down the street from me had to sign a contract that specified that if they felt that their unit was haunted because of its location, they could not sue the developers. I am not kidding about this.
Once and for all, all of you "aren't you scared?" folks , let's take a minute to think about the "worst case" scenarios for those who live near cemeteries. Clearly the worst things I would be dealing with are: Vampires, Ghosts and Zombies. I'll deal with them individually.
Vampires: As a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" fan, I am well versed in methods of dealing with these guys. The best defense is the fact that they can't come into your house unless you invite them. Heck, they probably couldn't even get past Roger, my building's front desk concierge, who takes his job VERY seriously. My friend Graham came to visit me last weekend and it took him AGES just to get the guy to call up to verify that I was expecting a guest. There's no way that Vampy McSuckerton could get past him!
Ghosts: Ghosts are all filmy and floaty, right? If a ghost is coming after me for some reason, I doubt that my moving closer to a graveyard would make a difference - travel is a snap for them. I don't think that my condo building is built on an ancient Indian burial ground, but even if it were, I think that ghosts would be the most pissed at people in the underground parking and on the first floor; I'm all the way up on the fifth. Besides, I am sure that the whacking great condo fees I pay every month probably cover spectral malevolence.
Zombies: The issue with zombies is that they travel in large groups reminiscent of the bus tours that bring senior citizens to Toronto to see stage productions of "We Will Rock You" or "Dirty Dancing." Even if they could get past Roger, their groaning would alert me to their presence and, as they move at a speed of approximately 5mph, I could pack a bag, take a shower, make a snack and then escape on foot before they made it to my unit.
Our love of horror movies aside, why do we hang on to ridiculous fears about cemeteries? Seriously - I LOVE living next door. It is downtown green space in a city of 3 million that is not under the threat of "development." This morning I heard the first herald of spring - birds singing in the 60 year old trees just outside my bedroom window (I did get that graveyard-view balcony, by the way!) Most of all, as I walk on those paths to and from work I am struck by the symbols of love and respect that are all around me. The people who rest in Mount Pleasant Cemetery have been reduced to their organic components, but the people who designed their graves have done the very best they can to preserve the memory of a person they loved. It's a beautiful place, and I feel honored to pass through it every day.
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