Happy 50th Barbie!

I love Barbie. I think it's incredible she's still an icon at 50. Barbie is going strong. I still have my dolls: Barbie, Ken & Ginger, a later incarnation of Barbie with a platinum bubble hair style. Remember those? My Barbie is original and so is my Ken doll. I did, however make up her face and take down her hair to twist into a chic chignon so she's not collectible.

My dolls were played with. They were loved. They dated. They lived together in my Barbie house...Barbie & Ginger not Barbie and Ken. I have all my original Barbie clothes in a Barbie wardrobe and they are in pretty darn good shape. I have the accessories too. Barbie the artist with the portfolio, Barbie the secretary, Barbie the business woman. Ken the tennis hottie, Ken the golfer, Ken the...I don't know. He never seemed like he was enough for her even to my 10 year old eyes. He was always just Ken. Kind of dull of but handy.

Barbie and Ken played tennis, went out in their evening clothes, had sex although Ken has no equipment. They eventually married. I have the tux and bridal gown, bouquet, veil, cummerbund. They dominated my 8-13 year old life. I don't think I stopped playing with them til I hit 9th grade, grew out my bangs, wore a smidgen of eyeliner and a ghostly pearlescent lipstick and became too cool for dolls.

Fashion Plate by Cole Scott Images

Girls Kick Ass by Cole Scott Images

Untitled by Cole Scott Images

My parents moved out of the house I grew up in when I was 22. I had lovingly put away all my dolls at fourteen. My parents were kind enough to keep them for me all those years, up in the attic of their retirement home. Once in a while, when I'd visit, I'd take down a box and look through it. I still have my beautiful Madame Alexanders and their wardrobes too.

My husband became fascinated with my Barbies earlier this year. He could not believe all the clothes and accessories and the way I'd kept them. He arranged a few scenes for a photo session. I like the first two. The last one bothers me. I look at it as Barbie erotica. He says it depicts closeness and sweetness.

She's kept her figure and her looks. That's a hell of a thing for a gal at fifty!

For more fun facts and stories on Barbie at fifty go to this page.

My Best Friends

These are six of my girlfriends. With one exception, we all went to high school together. We were friends when this photo was taken almost twenty years ago and we're friends today. The basis of our enduring friendships are probably more complicated than I can explain but I guess we just worked at it. Long term friendships are a combination of loyalty, love, caring, empathy and being there for the other person whenever possible. At least, those are the traits I most admire in a friend.

My husband can have his dogs, I'll take my girlfriends!

Why Radio?

I wrote this in response to an 11/24 post in Inside Music Media blog: "Better Radio at No Additional Cost". After 27 years in radio sales, I have left the business but the business has not left me. I still love radio and it pains me to see what is happening to stations across the country.

It's too pat to say "people are leaving radio to ESCAPE all the things you and Dick Carr are talking about." Radio isn't dead but it is certainly suffering. I grew up in a great radio market, Los Angeles, in the 1960s. As a teenager, I listened to all the great AMs: 93 KHJ, KRLA, KBLA (wow what a station!) and the like. I attended the KHJ Teen Fair every yr to see performing Top 40 acts & the up & comers. The client booths & displays were amazing. When I was young, it was possible to see really great groups at an affordable price in small venues: everything from The Troubadour to the Hullabaloo to the Whiskey to the Santa Monica Civic. Kids could not only afford concert tickets then but the radio told them where everything was "happening".

And it wasn't just about the kids listening habits either. My father, a national radio rep who owned his own firm, listened to the other great AMs, the older skewing ones: KMPC (Dick Whittinghill was his favorite & mine), KFWB, KABC, etc. He instilled the love of radio in me and I ended up in the business selling air time.

Concerts are no longer affordable for anyone. Venues are no longer intimate. Everything is about size, cost & exclusion. Anyone who's ever seen a concert in a stadium knows the acoustics suck, good seats cost a fortune and, unless you know someone, you're not going to get close enough to see anything anyway. So what is it you're paying for? To say you went?

If you believe in the pendulum theory of life, you know that the pendulum swings too far one way and then begins to swing back. Perhaps radio and music and the labels have to go through these crushing mega mergers and corporate acquisitions for people to finally realize that private ownership, small ownership is best. The radio industry is capable of recovery. It just needs a paradigm shift away from what it's become.

As a post script, December issue of Vanity Fair has a wonderful reminiscent article on Motown and what the music industry was like in those days and how the radio industry spurred it along.

More On Levi Stubbs, the Four Tops & the Music Industry

I picked this video off a blog I regularly read, Inside Music Media, by long time radio industry insider, Jerry Del Colliano. Jerry writes

"When I heard that Levi Stubbs, the phenomenal lead singer of the Motown group The Four Tops died Friday I had all the usual reactions someone in this industry would have.

And a few more.

Stubbs, the handsome rough voiced baritone, was a special part of a very special group.

And I'm not just talking about singing talent.

This was a man who was loved and who loved the business as well as his fellow group members. He turned down chances to star in the movies deciding instead to remain with the group -- a special guy in an entertainment industry populated by divas.

I have a point to make about the music industry and radio that I think you will relate to.

My friend Brian Pastoria sent me this 50th anniversary tribute to The Four Tops by Aretha Franklin at the Detroit Opera House. Stubbs was hobbled by cancer and a stroke but he showed up on stage in a wheelchair with the Tops and one last survivor Abdul "Duke" Fakir and a microphone. Take time to watch it. I promise you will not have a dry eye."

Standing in the Shadow of The Four Tops

Four Tops singer Levi Stubbs dies

The greats are falling. Last week it was Paul Newman. This week, Levi Stubbs. What a voice! What a group! What memories I have of their music intertwined in my high school and college years. I was lucky enough to see them perform in Anaheim at a theatre in the round. We sat right next to the stage and they travelled up and down the aisles singing to the audience. Levi was the most powerful singer in the group and his was the signature voice for most of their songs. I remember how handsome he was. It was a thrill. Those were the days when every song tied me to an event in my life. They all mattered.

I think I'm gonna go find my 33's and play 'em and remember.

Paul Newman...Peace Out

Paul Newman... humanitarian, wonderful actor, gorgeous guy. From what I've read, he apparently wasn't too comfortable with his looks but he sure made women feel good. There are alot of stories going around the internet now that he's passed. No idea if they are true or made up. But I have a true story to tell.

Back in the early 70's, while I was in college in Los Angeles, my friends and I often took weekend ski trips to Mammoth Lakes. In those days it was a 6 hour drive and you really had to want to go to hustle up there in back in two days. One Thursday night I received a call from my girlfriends to head up to Mammoth the following Friday afternoon.

"Paul Newman is going to be there!" said one of them breathlessly.

"Yeah, right," was my sarcastic response.

In LA, you were always hearing stuff like that. These friends were three blondes a year ahead of me, all very pretty, two linked to show business. One was the daughter of Peter Marshall host of Hollywood Squares, one the daughter of a character actor, the third was their best friend, senior class May Queen, Prom Queen and cheerleader. We all loved Paul Newman.

They went without me.

They met Paul Newman and his son, Scott, while skiing. I don't remember details but he invited the girls to have lunch with him and his son. As the story goes, Suzi, the daughter of Peter Marshall, led the conversation. Sandy, the cheerleader probably chimed in a great deal. Lori, the daughter of the character actor said she just sat there, speechless, with tears running down her face; she was that overwhelmed. I remember that part exactly because Lori was drop dead gorgeous, Farrah-style, but shy. I don't think they had much to say about his son, who died tragically of a drug overdose a few years later. But Mr. Newman was charming and friendly. He flipped them the peace sign when he said goodbye. They groaned in unison but...whatta ski trip! Whatta man! What a memory.

High School Reunion: Prelude

I can't believe it but I'm going home for a 40th high school reunion. It sounds so old it's frightening. I had been looking forward to it for a while. Many of my friends wanted to go and, as I planned to go home anyway, I thought it would be great. As the date grows ever near, however, many of my friends are changing their minds. Now I find myself going with my one girlfriend from elementary school, who is also flying to the left coast from the right. We're spending $110 for the event, $140 for the room (I know, cheap for a Marriot...but STILL) and who knows what for a flattering dress and foundation garment that will suck in all the places that need to be girdled. That's alot of places.

My husband is encouraging. "Go!" he says. "You always have a good time."

I hope so. It hardly seems worth it. I mean, the people I thought I'd be hanging out with aren't going, except for a handful. And the memory of the last one I attended, the 25th, is that I had to squint at every name tag to figure out who the hell I was talking to. It seemed rude but also embarrasssing.

Well, I will notate my trip and it should be memorable. I have 10 days of visitng friends and family in California before the fated affair. We shall see.

One thing I should note, now that only a few of my closest friends are going, I no longer feel that terrible need to wear a dynamite dress, create an un-wiltable hair style, and wear makeup that won't melt. I am wearing false eyelashes. Love 'em and they are back in vogue. Other than that, eh!

Marvelous Motown & the Sounds of the Sixties

Photo of David Sea during the Temptations concert.

My husband and I went to see the Temptations Revue with Dennis Edwards Saturday night. Dennis Edwards joined the group in 1968. He's not an original, but awfully close. The Temps are one of the very few groups I did not see live in my youth. I was a Motown lover and managed to see most of the greats: The Four Tops (oh that Levi); The Supremes (before Diana took center stage); Stevie Wonder (at the age of 16, then again 20 yrs later); Ike & Tina & the Ikettes; James Brown (I saw MC Hammer about 20 yrs after James Brown and thought their styles quite similar); Smokey Robinson & the Miracles; Martha & the Vandellas. I'm sure there were more.

I grew up in Los Angeles during the sixties when there were teen nightclubs like the Hullabaloo, not to mention wonderful old venues like the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium where you went to see huge shows with many performers. One could get tickets and they were affordable. I mean, we were teenagers. We didn't have any money! But we managed to go to alot of concerts. 93KHJ put on the Teen Fair each year and we saw many of great performers there. KHJ liked to parade their Top 40 lineup artists on stage. The Teen Fair was all about teens, teen products and music on the radio.

AM Radio. I can hardly believe it. The funny thing is, I work in radio. I have worked in radio since 1981. I actually enjoyed a pretty good heyday the first 8 years, before the big corporations started moving in. But, nothing compared to what it must have been like in the Sixties! It was so innovative: program directors trying something new every day, local bands making it big. Really great talent was everywhere; at least, they were getting air time. Formula radio, the stuff we hear nowadays, was a thing of the future.

But I digress...this started out to be about the Temptations concert the other night. I hesitated to go to this concert. It was being held in a beautiful venue on the shores of a gorgeous lake. I was looking forward to that. It was the fear of seeing an old beloved group, no longer comprised of original members, perform long-cherished music of my youth. I wanted them to measure up. And they did. They were spot-on with their harmony. The distinction of each voice and the idiosyncrasies of each song memorized long ago, were there. If you're wondering if "My Girl sound the same after David Ruffin is dead, well, it does. I'm so glad I attended.

Time in a Bottle... or maybe a bell jar

There is a popular commercial about "time in a bottle" right now that should be about some anti aging formula but is, instead, about a popular anti-histamine pill. Every time I see the beginning of this ad, when the woman remarks how she's found time in a bottle, I think how great it would be. Then they identify the product and I wonder what stupid ad person came up with that? Had to be a guy. Women don't think that way.

I'm struggling with my own sense of time passing right now. I'm attending my high school reunion this year and it is some kind of process to go through. It's like getting ready for the prom...you know...you start thinking about the dress, the hair, the shoes at least a year out. If you're overweight, you diet. If you have acne, you try to clear up your face. If you have a network of friends, you find out who's going and arrange to go together and sit together for dinner and what not. My husband is not going with me. A number of my closest friends aren't going. But a number of them are. My high school boyfriend may go. And I'll see a number of people I haven't seen since the last one I attended, the 25th. Oh, did I mention this is the 40th?

I heard from my best male friend in high school today. He's not going. He says he wants to see me but doesn't think he's ready to deal with the "catastrophic realities" of his life right now. Inotherwords, he's not where he thought he would be at this point in time. I understand his pain. I don't know if anyone is where they thought they would be. I'm sure some people are but I'm betting more of us are not. Why? Money, looks, health, life...Man makes plans and God laughs. I think three of my close girlfriends aren't going because they don't like how they look, don't want to face up to who they were in high school (vs who they are now) or they're not anxious to see their old friends 40 years older. I've already gone through that, the stages of dealing with it all. It's like the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, grieving, acceptance. You really have to go through it to come out whole on the other side. After all, you are still you. The vessel may have shifted but the spirit is never changing.

Best of Both Worlds or Too Much of a Good Thing?

I have a very close friend who has a sister with two lovers...and she lives with them both...at the same time. They've been successfully thus involved for several years now. When first told about the relationship, I was shocked (Baptist upbringing) but also intrigued (60's sensibilities). I did not want to be judgmental, tho' I initially was, and I couldn't help but think, "Wow. Best of both worlds." I mean, she's livin' the dream, right? Well, possibly.

I suppose if this were a Danielle Steele novel, it would be great fodder for the storyline: gorgeous, ambitious woman in her mid-forties has a successful business with one lover running a high end fishing camp on a remote Canadian island, summers only, returning to civilization with Lover #1 to live with Lover #2 in a wealthy suburb in Arizona. According to my girlfriend, her sister sleeps with which ever one she wants, when she wants. She calls the shots. As for menage a trois, I don't ask and she doesn't offer.

I like men...up to a point. I absolutely love my husband and I've loved a few others in my youth. Not sure what the prospect of two at once would do to me. I mean, it's been a challenge living with one Alpha Male and raising two alphas-in-waiting. I think men have their place...lifting heavy objects and taking out the garbage. Scratching, roaring, having sex and feeding seem to be the other traits in which they strive to excel.

Could I do what she's doing? Maybe in my dreams. You know, George Clooney one night, Richard Gere the next. Yeah, I could handle that...for a while. But, I like my solitude and I like peace and quiet. And I like things simple. So, while I admire her iconoclasm, I'll have to admire it from my quiet, predictable and boring perch.

But, it does sound fun.

California Girl: I am in my head

My husband repeatedly wonders why I call myself "California Girl" at the tender age of 56.

"Why not 'California Woman?'" he asks.

"Because 'California Girl' is more honest."

"But you're a woman, not a girl, " he insists.

"I am a girl in my head."

And that's it. I am still a girl and I do not apologize. I think young even if I don't necessarily feel or look it any longer. At first, when I picked that moniker, I felt a little uncomfortable, as though I no longer deserved the descriptive noun "girl". But, I decided to go with it anyway. My reasons were simple. My husband and I have moved around this country alot. Everywhere we have lived that wasn't in the state of California, I would sooner or later get the nickname, "California Girl".

I have always liked the nickname because it's been bestowed with love, sometimes a bit of envy and often alot of curiosity. Even in this day and age, it's amazing the number of people who've never visited California. I love my home state and I'm very proud to be a Californian: fruits, nuts, warts and all. California is full of innovators, movers, shakers, and people who do things. It's not like New England where everyone sits on their hands and waits for the next wave of optimism to pass. It's not like the South where they "Ya'll" you to death, smiling while they pick your pocket or try to determine who your "people" are. It's not like the Midwest where everyone is down to earth and just plain nice. (I love mid-westerners). It's CALIFORNIA. It's full of fast talking, bullshitting, in-hock-up-to-their-eyeballs people who are what they drive, wear or live in. It's also full of creative, free spirits who just couldn't live anywhere else for some of the reasons already stated.

Do I think it's perfect? Hell, no! If I did, I'd live there full time. But it is home. It is what I am most familiar with and used to and where I'll probably end up; back with the same friends I've had since high school, enjoying the weather, the wide open spaces, the great stretches of highway through the desert, along the coastline and into the mountains. California has everything if you are willing to drive to get it.

Are we superficial? Yes, alot of people out there are. But, so what?There are lots of wonderful people out there and most of them are still from some place else.

Wow! I looked pretty good back then

Isn't it funny how we tend to review photos of ourselves with a critical eye, dismissing the majority of them with lines like "I look fat" or "Look at that double chin" or "What's with the circles under my eyes" etc etc? Now, I'm not talking about photos taken after the tender age of forty. I remember saying that about photos taken in my teens and twenties when I was thin and pretty and fairly self confident. In fact, when I sift through old photos of myself and my friends, I often come across pictures I hated at the time and now look at and think, "Wow! I looked pretty damn good."

I am continually amazed by my youthful self-criticism. Of course, it extends right up to the present. What is funny about the present is, I now come across photos taken just a few years ago...even one or two years...and think "I looked pretty good then!" It's that relentless march of the aging image in the mirror vs the ageless image in the photo. We can't go back but we sure can wonder why we did not appreciate what we had when we had it.

En Vino Veritas

I am a wino. No two ways about it. I like my wine and, like a Lay's potato chip, I bet I can't drink just one glass.

I notice many of my female friends, girlfriends, women friends, women my age have the same addiction. They like their wine and they are emphatic about it! One very good friend of mine went on an intense Weight Watcher's diet plan for a year. She was religious about following the point structure and what did she save her extra points for? Her wine! Another friend, the mother of six beautiful raucous daughters who all like to party, will give up her food and will diet but she says she'll never give up her wine.

I think someone should do a scientific study of menopausal women and wine. I really think that's when the addiction sets in. Men don't seem to have it. Maybe it's the sugar, maybe it's something else, like a beer or scotch fetish, but I just don't notice this affection for wine in men. Start looking around at your mothers or co-workers or older sisters friends and colleagues and see what you think.