If the runways of New York and Paris were any indication of fall's mood in fashion, women will be falling in love with a 19th Century return to lady-like drama.
Buns are everywhere. Now before your mind drifts to one of those hot, cinnamon-sprinkled, icing-drizzled delights, just know that I am referring to men's hair buns.
When I open my mouth, my mother comes out.
Mama always had her bottle of Oil of Olay night cream on her vanity keeping company with Estee Lauder's White Linen eau de parfum on her mahogany dresser, beside the Bible.
Two of my nieces are, as the more ladylike members of the Dykes Chapel Road community used to say, "in the family way" or "with child."
I remember sitting on the hard floors of the porches of my youth listening to old men and women telling stories while swatting flies from wooden rocking chairs.
I have had my fair share of sunglasses -- the good, the bad and the ugly.
I am not Cait, but this is my story.
"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." Charles Dickens was right. Christmas melted even the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge.
The old adage that men sweat and ladies glisten might hold true for some, but here in the South where it's hotter than blazes, folks of all kinds just sweat.
Meet Miz Victoria Fiona, and let me tell you how we became acquainted.
I have never admired those who preach one sermon and live another, figuratively speaking, which means I try very hard not to be a hypocrite.
Our grandmothers gave us sage advice on most everything under the sun, but perhaps we should have listened more intently when they were passing out beauty tips -- mayonnaise, milk, beer. Well, I declare.
Stella Poodle is a pretty girl. She turns heads on the street well into her golden years, the classiest aging brunette since Sophia Loren.
If you ask me what's hot this season, I might tell you a smoking haircut or equally sizzling color, but I also want to share some of the hottest styling tools. They aren't all the same in quality or function.
It's so hot that my hydrangeas are fainting, and it's hardly even summer yet.
Why does everybody have to be naked these days, well, figuratively speaking?
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