Pre-Ramble: … What’s hot?? … If you live in the Midwest, I don’t need to tell you what’s hot — this blasted heat wave is hot.  The air is hot, the sidewalk is hot, the dashboard is hot, even the grass is hot.  There is a lot of hot going on around here right now.

Well, so, according to the hot spotters at college-fashion-dot-net, the hottest summer accessory for 2011 is … hats!  Apparently, a trendy topper is this summer’s must-have.  Any type of hat under the sun … floppy hats, cowboy hats, straw hats, baseball hats, … hats, hats, hats.  Hats are hot, which means that hats are cool.

Cool hats are hot, and hot hats are cool …

Cleary this stretch of extreme summer heat has gone to my head.

All this talk about hats, hats, hats reminds me of one of my favorite children’s books … The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, written by Dr. Seuss in 1938.  According to the experts at wikipedia, Geisel, who was a collector of hats, got the idea for the story on a commuter train from New York to New England while sitting behind a businessman wearing a hat …

Set in feudal times, the story begins in the Kingdom of Didd, when King Derwin is riding through a street past Bartholomew Cubbins, a poor boy in the market. Bartholomew removes his hat, according to the laws, but another hat mysteriously appears; when he attempts to remove this one too, another one appears again, and this continues, even as he removes more and more hats, each growing in extravagance and beauty from the 451st hat onwards.

Eventually, as Bartholomew is being threatened with death, the 500th hat, studded with massive gems and gilding, comes off and Bartholomew’s head is bare again. Stunned by the beauty of the hat, King Derwin grants him reprieve and trades him 500 gold coins for the 500th hat.

That must have been one very hot hat — !

For today … when it’s 98 degrees with a dew point of 82 (Yes, 82 – a new record for Minnesota), … it is too hot for a hot hat.  In fact, it is also too hot for a cool hat.

The Take-Away: No hats.

Post-Note: Actually, a really hot hat look totally depends on the hotness of the person wearing it. A really hot girl wearing a fun floppy hat, for example, is a way different thing than say, Larry the Cable Guy wearing it.  Same goes for guys … Ashton Kutcher looks hot in a hat ( he also looks hot not in a hat, btw), whereas, again, Larry the Cable Guy, not so much.

I think I might have to check out hottie AK in his new role in Two-and-a-Half Men … I never watched while CS was in it, but Ashton is two-and-a-half times the man Charlie will ever be.

Pre-Ramble: As I’m driving home, I hear on the radio that the government shutdown over here in Minnesota is close to being resolved …

I’m thinking … “IT’S ABOUT BLOODY WELL TIME!!!  … Those legislators should have been forced to sit at their desks with their heads down until they could play nice. Who do they think they are, just taking their toys and going home before they got all of their work done? … Rant, rant, rant …

… Lots of folks have been put in tough positions with so many “nonessential” government provided services suddenly unavailable during the shut down …

• No road work; guess we’ll just have to live with miles of abandoned orange cones and bumpy roads …
• No youth and family services; guess we’ll have to find alternative summer programming for kids in the foster care system …
• No liquor licenses; guess we’ll have to toast with toast at our weddings …
• No trash pick-up at the zoo; guess we’ll have to hold our breath in the elephant house …
• No tours of the State Capitol Building; guess we’ll have to tour the Cathedral instead …
• No professional licenses; guess we’ll just have to turn away those newly-minted nurses …
• No lottery tickets; guess we’ll just have to hold off on buying all those cars, jewels and mansions …
• No fishing licenses; … oh darn, darn, darn, … guess we won’t be able to go fishing …
• Rant, rant, rant …

Hey, wait a minute … Maybe I haven’t thought this whole thing through …

If the government isn’t going to be shut down any more, that means all that stuff will be available again.

I’ll be able to go fishing.

I hate fishing.

The Take-Away: Here’s the deal – I’ve been wanting to go to the Cathedral anyway, and if I win the lottery, I’ll go fishing.

Pre-Ramble: There’s a reason my golf handicap is so high … In addition to being a bad golfer, I am often distracted by the array of pretty flowers and wildlife that can be found out on our neighborhood golf course.

We’ve got foxes, turkeys, deer, egrets, great blue herons, goldfinch, blue birds, bunnies, turtles, … and three-quarters of the way up a big pine tree on hole #13, there’s a bald eagle nest — with two eaglets — !

If you’ve ever seen a bald eagle nest, you know that they are basically a giant heap of sticks wedged into a fork near the top of a tree.  And, if you’ve ever seen a baby eagle, you know that they are … well, how do I put this delicately?  …. ugly, homely, hideous-looking, … rather awkward in appearance and larger than the word “baby” would imply (they’re huge) … (juvenile eaglet shown at right).

If you look up from the tee-box, you can often see the mother eagle soaring around looking for edible little critters on the ground, or stationed on a nearby branch, patiently watching over the nest.  Such a majestic and diligent creature.

Based on the amount of squawking that comes out of that nest, I’m pretty sure we’ve got a couple of teenaged-girl-eaglets up there. Bet you a dollar that there are seed husks under the beds and feathers clogging the shower drain.  Ah, the tribulations of parenthood.

The Take-Away: Be that as it may, as the mother of two nearly grown girls who are all but perched on the edge of our nest this summer, I have only two words of advice for Mother Eagle:

1. Soak up as much of their wonderful presence and exuberance as you can because the time you can keep them under your wing is so, so short; and
2. Brush up on your tech skills. … Once those kidlets fly out of the nest, a quick text, Twitter or skype is all you’ve really got.

Pre-Ramble: A rainy day in NYC makes negotiating the sidewalk scene even more of a challenge; umbrellas and puddles necessitate a lot of bobbing and weaving.

Heading up Madison Avenue, around 60^th Street or so, I end up walking on the heels of this quirkily dressed guy, darting across against the light. Mid-street, Quirky Guy, whom I have named Wile E. for reasons which will become clear shortly, glances back at me over the top of his thick, hip, black glasses (think Elvis Costello, but less intentionally nerdy) to conspiratorially declare that we were being “very risky” … To which I replied, “We’re going to be flattened … like Wile E. Coyote … “

He smirked and slowed his pace to engage further. We walk a few more blocks, each under our respective umbrellas, chatting about stupid stuff … the weather … anvils (not really, but I wish I would have interjected that) … and he asks where I’m from. When I say Minnesota, he says, “Oh, yes, you’ve got that Midwest accent … “ then adds, “Like Fargo!” I roll my eyes in my mind and reply, “Yup, like Fargo …” (Note: People from the northern Midwest states should get a royalty of some kind every time somebody invokes the movie Fargo within a 25 foot radius of our person.)

We briefly discuss Frances McDormand’s career and then I ask, “So, where are you from?” Wile smugly states that he is from “L.A. … “ …. “Ah,” I say, trying to muster up a little energy around my bad attitude toward the shallow, sprawling metropolis that is Los Angeles.

Wishing to shift the topic, I quickly ask, “So, what do you do?”  “Hairdresser,” he shoots back, flashing a curious grin. “Oh,” I say, … “Great, …” (While really thinking, “NOT great,” … doing a quick scan of my lame headband and ponytail) …  I continue, “What brings you to New York?” He answers, “Workin’ on a movie,” (more smugness).  “Oh,” I perk up, … “What movie?”  He says a movie title that has “bad” and “bosses” in it, which registers some flicker of familiarity, … I think I’ve seen the preview … something silly and a little smutty … but I can’t place who’s in it … maybe it’s Cameron Diaz … maybe Jennifer Aniston …maybe one of those other young-ish, blonde actresses …   Rather than conjecture further, I ask, “So, who’s hair do you do?”

“The actress who is in the movie,” is the coy response. I give him a look, and he instantly volunteers, “Jennifer Aniston …” then pauses for my response.

I raise my eyebrows and affirm his statement with the proper level of shock and awe … “Oh, wow, … Jennifer Aniston”… “She has great hair … “ …    (In all deference to Wile’s work, I’m thinking, “So, what, … you like blow it dry and straighten it, maybe?”)  Actually, I might have said that out loud, because he shoots back with, “Oh, my god, you need to blah, blah, blah with mousse on the roots, and blow it to blah, blah, blah, and weave the color, blah, blah … “  I understand his need to justify this, and acknowledge that Ms. Aniston’s hair (shown above) is “iconic” and “always looks remarkable” ….

As we move up the street, Wile regroups from my underwhelming response and points out a ruffly taupe trench coat in a shop front window. More stating than asking he notes, “Isn’t that stunning? …. Just stunning!”  I reply that while it is indeed stunning, it would look ridiculous in Minnesota.  He chastises me with a few remarks about how it’s all attitude and personal style (has the guy ever actually BEEN in a mall?) … A few short blocks later, Wile reaches his destination (Fred Leighton – sooo Hollywood) and bids me a good rest of my visit to New York. I wish him well in return and continue to splash my way uptown.

Later that night, I’m mucking around online and decide to check into Wile’s backstory to see whether all that Jennifer Aniston/movies talk was just a load of crap. And, let me just say, that even if he wasn’t legit, he should win an award for “Most Convincing Hairdresser to the Stars Impersonation Ever.”

Shut up! So, before I can finish typing the second “s” in “hairdresser,” up pops Wile’s mug along with a bunch of press shots of Jennifer Aniston, Penelope Cruz and Victoria Beckham. Apparently, not only is Wile a hairdresser, he is a very well-known hairdresser – with his own line of products and a namesake salon in Beverly Hills. Wile is a.k.a. Chris McMillan (shown below) … long-time good friend and part of Aniston’s “entourage.”

Clearly, I am not up on my True Hollywood Story, and must have been a tremendous source of frustration for my Mr. Hairdresser to the Stars. (Thought starter: If some random gal from the Midwest doesn’t recognize you on the street, or worse, not know who you are after a quick bio, are you actually the hot shot you think you are?)

Actually, in spite of the fact that I didn’t know he was such a big deal, Wile was a great chat and I really enjoyed spending a few blocks shooting the breeze with him. My only regret was that, in all my obliviousness, I didn’t ask if he was free to do a little cut and color on my desperately-in-need tresses.

Wile! Baby! … if you’re still in town, I promise I’ll be more sycophantic if you could give me a quick Hollywood “do” to take back to “Fargo.”  If I like it, you can be part of my entourage too.

Pre-Ramble: So, for the past couple of days I have been delivering my college sophomore daughter to New York City for a summer internship.

Phew!! …. I’d love to be blogging about how great New York is and all of the fun we’ve been having setting up shop in the sublet apartment, finding the nearest grocery store and practicing riding the subway, but all I can think about at the moment is, “Man, do my feet hurt … !”

Seriously, I was wearing what I thought were the most comfy, versatile, stylish, FLAT shoes on the planet (not them at right), but clearly, if the blistered pulp that is the bottoms of my feet are any indication,  I was sorely mistaken.

On the face of it, this painful condition could be considered a problem. However, as one who likes to walk on the sunny side of life, I prefer to see it as an opportunity — I am going to need to get myself a new pair of shoes!

Have we got a shoe for you! And, if a gal is in the market for some new shoes, the Big Apple is a great place to look. As home to Sex in the City’s Carrie Bradshaw, NYC has shoes of every imaginable shape, style and price point including strappy little beauties by designers Jimmy Choo, Christain Louboutin and Manolo Blahnik.

I’m sure these are lovely shoes, however, after my experience of the last two days, I’m going to need a pair that can stand up to some serious street walking. (Not THAT kind of street walking.)  I can’t be pounding the pavement and dodging cabs while teetering en pointe …

The Take-Away: Well, whatever I end up with, I assure you it won’t be the footwear we saw at the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art this afternoon.  The brilliantly disturbed, now deceased designer came up with what he called the “armadillo shoe” (shown above) … A sculptural, but virtually unwearable contortion that makes the ends of his subjects legs (where  feet would normally go) look like elaborate, clunky, other-worldly hooves.

Alexander was a very creative guy, but “crippled Dasypodidae” isn’t quite the look I’m going for.  Do you have anything in a ”sensible, sturdy” size 8M?

Pre-Ramble: Well, as promised, here is the brand, spanking new profile picture (shown at right) … Stunning – yes?

I am so happy with the outcome, mostly because (and maybe I’m just speaking for myself here), as we discussed in the last blog post, unless you’re a Super Model, a good photo of yourself is super hard to come by.

I’m usually on the business end of any cameras in my world, and the rest of the time I am prepared to rough up anyone who tries to point a loaded Canon in my direction.  Plus, there are so many ways that a simple head shot can go wrong …

• the location can be too cluttered or cheesey …
• your outfit can be too busy or boring …
• you can show up with a bad haircut …
• you freeze in front of the camera and end up with dozens of variations on stupid facial expressions …
• too much light and you’re blown-out and squinting …
• too little, and you’re a shadow puppet …

It’s all about your face. Sounds so simple, right?  And it kind of is. For this shot, for example, we were in an average room … no props, no faux finish backdrop, no gazebos … just the walls and a bank of windows … (good lighting is key).  I was wearing neutral colors and a simple neckline with very little jewelry. My hair was uncomplicated, and I had on just enough make-up to give my face some definition. Took some with glasses on, some with ‘em off.

Full disclosure: (Well, and, ok … the planets were all lined up and there may have been some kind of soft focus filter involved.)

Good photography also requires a good photographer.  The guy I used knew his stuff. He dragged me close to the diffused light from the windows, stood on a chair, and told me to smile …

Say CHEEEESEE!!! (He never said this.)

The Take-Away: A good photograph of yourself can capture your essence at a specific point in time.  Celebrate this moment.  It’s fleeting.

Can of worms. The trouble is, you now have a new gold standard. Right away you’ll want to purge the universe of all other photos of you and replace them with the new and improved one.  Second, you are totally going to have to rethink your personal appearances. It’s not like you can hold up an 8 X 10 of your go-to photo in the grocery store and say, “My hair looks frightening today, but I really look like THIS !” … And, you can’t just scamper off in the middle of a conversation with, “Just one second while I step into this flattering light over here … ” … Or, make friends and colleagues put on special “soft focus” glasses before they can look directly at you …

I guess until we come up with a better plan, I’ll just have to wear a big hat and sunglasses and send everyone to my website.

Pre-Ramble: As is my perennial tradition, I want to take a moment out of my yard-raking, weed-pulling, mosquito-smacking pre-summer ritual to send my deepest, most sincere apologies to the fine gentleman who owned this house before us.

We arrived on the scene on a weekend house-hunting trip in early February — no flora, fauna or other foliage to be found on the snow-covered wooded lot.  But there were pictures – lots of pictures - alongside detailed views of compelling architectural features were pictures of lush ferns and colorful garden beds. The real estate agent went on about how the homeowner was a Master Gardener (whatever that was … ) and how the plantings were strategically phased to bloom at various points in the season … blah, blah. Very nice. Yes, we’ll take it.

On move-in day, still oblivious to the magnitude of the situation which lay ahead, I politely filed the computer-generated map of hedges, trees and groupings of flowering plants with long Latin names in the foyer closet along with a dusty binder of household repair receipts and went about life.

Well, so, that first spring, determined to keep up what was clearly designed to be a splendid  landscape, I slapped on a pair of garden gloves and set out to do a little pruning and weeding.  What I failed to account for was the vague similarity that marks the new shoots of unfamiliar plants before they have had a chance to assert themselves.

Long story short. I must have pulled out thousands of dollars worth of exotic perennial specimens in a single afternoon.

The Take-Away: So, as I have done each spring for the past twelve years, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to both the supreme garden gods and to the former homeowner/Master Gardener (I now know what that is … which makes the state of the grounds all the more regrettable) … for under-watering, over-watering, miss-pruning, uprooting, and otherwise destroying the reportedly lovely gardens which were bequeathed into my care.

Post Note: Do you hear all that squealing?  It’s the marigolds and impatiens at our local nursery.  They hear me coming.

Pre-Ramble:  I’ve been torn this last week or so between blogging about brand-identity/innovation/strategy-related topics and gushing over the upcoming royal wedding (T- minus 2 days!!!).  Well, thanks to one of my London readers (right there with a front row seat on all the action), I can do both! 

Mug shot – In my last post (April 24th), I told you all about the awesome royal mug I had ordered in commemoration of the Big Day (not it at right).  As you will recall, the piece (referred to on its website by the clunky term ”tankard”), sports a very elaborate design involving swoopy looping fonts and elegant botanically inspired patterns in dusty powder blue and gold leaf. Very formal and traditional, and perfectly reflecting the very formal and traditional vibe of the royal British monarchy.

Then, ZING!  This morning in my inbox is a note from the London reader along with a link to the website of Dhub, a design agency (based in London) which has taken a new tack on royal wedding commemorative collections design.  As detailed on their site, the Dhub designers wanted to create something more “significant and modern,” … presenting “designs that take into consideration the Facebook generation, popular culture and modern design … a brand that identifies with and is relevant to the 20th century … ”

“The Royal family has changed shape and form over the years and in 2011 they appear as a totally different force from the previous years of Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth. The Royal family are now a global phenomenon, the press allow the public to see them in a more down to earth and human light, no longer will the Royal family be regarded as elite, they are representative of traditional British culture, but there lies the failing of the current design approach to the celebration of the Royal Wedding this year. The British culture is now about opportunity, energy, creativity, youth, style and perfection.”

One look at their crisp, engaging solutions (example shown above and on website) demonstrates that they have succeeded in a big way!  Each of the designs incorporates the royal couple’s initials (Kate’s is, of course, team favorite, a “K”!) and simple, iconic crown images rendered in combinations of Union Jack red, white and blue.  The results are just the right mix of traditional cues and “creative, youthful and vibrant” elements. 

Well done, chaps … and a timely find in light of growing sentiment that the youthful and vibrant young Prince William is potentially “in danger of over-shadowing his far less popular father, Prince Charles,” the next in line for the throne.  Anthony Faiola at the Washington Post describes the challenges ahead for the “idiosyncratic Prince Charles,” citing recent public opinion polls that reveal a popularity gap between father and son … 46% percent of respondents believe that Prince Charles should step aside. 

The Take-Away:  At this point, matters around succession to the crown are protected by law; nonetheless, the dichotomy represents an interesting dilemma for the royal “brand” and highlights the value of relevance in a constantly evolving world and marketplace.  “Brand William” would be nothing without the foundational heritage established by the kings and queens who have worn the crown before him, however, it is the British monarchy that will be irreparably diminished if they fail to embrace, in some meaningful way, this free pass into ”creative, youthful and vibrant” royal relevance for the 21st century.

Post-Note:  Thanks for the tip, London reader! (And if you happen to score a snappy photo of the royal K & W, feel free to send that over as well!!)

Pre-Ramble:  Sure, it’s going to be the most over-hyped, over-covered, over-everything-ed event of the decade/century/of all time … but there’s a reason for that — it’s awesome!! 

The royal wedding is in just five short days and we can only imagine the mess on the royal dining room table as the Queen Mother and her ladies-in-waiting prepare the royal table favors for the 1,900 esteemed guests.  That’s a boat-load of royal candied almonds. 

Royal protocol – Actually, like the rest of the royal fanfare, there is probably some prescribed protocol for such things as listed in the Royal Wedding Handbook under royal table favors … like tiny royal horse-drawn-carriage refrigerator magnets, or tiny bejeweled scepters …

While I have not personally been invited to witness the royal nuptials, I am not one to let such details keep me from marking the occasion in a proper manner.  Last week I placed my order for an Official Royal Wedding Commemorative Tankard (a.k.a. coffee mug) — !  That’s it shown above.

Stunning, isn’t it?! 

I trust that my piece of royal hoopla will be arriving in due time for the festivities – 4:30 a.m. sharp Friday morning. I will be sitting stateside, … in my royal jammies, … sipping fresh hot … coffee (sorry blokes, tea is just too weak and boring) out of my fancy gilded cup – pinkie extended.

The Take-Away:  Brilliant!! Cheerio, pip, pip and all that!

Pre:Ramble:  “All right Mr. De Mille, I’m ready for my close-up … ” … I’m pretty sure that even Norma Desmond wouldn’t be caught camera-ready for this gig – shots taken by mounting small inexpensive cameras to nearly anything – helmets, hang-glider wings, surfboards, dirt bikes, etc. 

Created by a company called GoPro, these water-tight digital cameras are about the size of a deck of cards and weigh just six ounces.  ”Hero Cameras” as they are called, start at $260 for a version that shoots high-quality, high-definition video.  GoPro’s founder and CEO, surfer Nick Woodman, describes the product’s appeal … 

“A big part of the [product's] appeal is that people can pivot the cameras to be aimed at themselves while they’re surfing or doing some other activity and easily share them on Facebook or YouTube … a huge enabler for that type of ego satisfaction.”

I’m sure the images taken from such unique perspectives are amazing. In still shots of Mr. Woodman riding the surf in a challenging, splashy, outdoor environment, the sense of immediacy is nearly disorienting.   (Actually, the placement of the camera in one of the photos makes Woodman’s palm and big toe look disproportionally large … an effect which is likely less apparent when the whole intrepid scene is in motion.)

Holy Monkey-Cam – David Letterman is probably a big GoPro customer … using the versatile units for his snarky hidden camera bits.  And speaking of bits, GoPro cameras have also been popular with wildlife photographers.  The rugged design and comparatively low cost have made them the go-to technology for getting “bite-shots” — scenes from inside the mouths of fierce critters like seals, sharks, polar bears and alligators. 

The GoPro line was initially sold in surf shops, motorcycle stores and sporting goods outlets … Soon they’ll be available at a Best Buy near you!

The Take-Away:  Great! I’m sure I can find some novel household uses for my very own GoPro camera … maybe I can clip it to a random sock in the laundry hamper and see where it ends up.