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balls & dolls

Posted by cgcopy on June 25, 2013 in searching for myself ... or for some chocolate

imagesWhen it comes to strong, inspiring women — women who have the courage, the gumption, the balls, if you will, to stand up for what they believe in — my list includes (in no particular order): Eleanor Roosevelt, Ellen DeGeneres, Hillary Clinton, Angelina Jolie, Rosa Parks, Gloria Steinem, Billie Jean King.

And if I want some popcorn with my inspiration, then these are the female movie roles that fit the bill.

Scarlett O’Hara (Gone with the Wind) — Love her or hate her, you have to admit — this woman had ballgowns, and balls, to spare.

Tootsie — As Dorothy Michaels (the female character played by a man) she had more balls than Michael Dorsey (the male character who played her). Dustin Hoffman played them both. Major cojones.

Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird) — Talk about fearless. I want to be Scout when I grow up.

Thelma and Louise — Gutsy, gorgeous, get-out-of-town amazing.

Baby (Dirty Dancing) — Strong-minded, intelligent, want-to-change-the-world Baby learns to dance, to stand on her own two feet, to take a stand. And to do that lift (okay, Johnny Castle helped with that last one).

Laine Hanson (The Contender) — Nerves-of-steel VP candidate stands up to the sexist opposition looking to ruin her. And delivers a spot-on kick in the balls.

Rose (Titanic) — High-society girl drowning in a shallow, moneyed life gives it all up for true love. And learns how to hold on.

My lesson learned? Speak softly (or loudly) and carry a big pair.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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summer of ’75

Posted by cgcopy on June 19, 2013 in it's life

sun_clipartIt amazes me that B. and I met 38 years ago this summer. The summer of 1975. Two high-school juniors meeting at an upstate NY university for a summer of higher education. (Cue CSN singing Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.) One 17-year-old girl, who’d led a fairly sheltered existence, hoping for a summer of love. One 17-year-old boy, hormones in full gear, ready for a summer of “love.” She, falling for him the moment she saw those blue-green eyes. He, longing for her once he saw her legs in those summer shorts. She, thinking, “He’s the one!” (Cue Snow White singing Someday My Prince Will Come.) He, thinking “Whoa, baby, she’s the one!” (Cue Meat Loaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light.) You see where this is going, right? Absolutely nowhere. At least at that time. (Cue When Harry Met Sally).

Even though we met so young, B. and I really didn’t figure out the relationship thing until 20+ years later. Going away to school in different cities, having careers on different coasts, you get the picture. Until finally in 1996 when we reconnected and, cue Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, “it was … magic.”

The lesson learned? Sometimes things work out the way you plan. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they work out better.

And sometimes it’s all a matter of time. (One last cue — Carly Simon’s Anticipation.)

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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finding my funny

Posted by cgcopy on June 12, 2013 in it's life

fashion_doh-145x145We’ve all been there. Life deals us a really tough hand and we feel like crawling under the nearest fuzzy blanket with Ben & Jerry, turning up the volume on Steel Magnolias, and just having an all-out pity party. No other guests invited. But the need to get back to routine does kick in — like considering the other three food groups (come on, you think ice cream should be its own food group too); trying that new make-me-amazing mascara; thinking about ditching the sweats for, well, anything else.

And for me, that includes finding my funny.

Where to look? Woody Allen movies — Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, Radio Days. TV reruns — Seinfeld, Friends, Cheers. Anything Nora Ephron has written. Anything Mel Brooks says. Katharine Hepburn in Philadelphia Story. Grace Kelly in High Society. Animal House (I can’t help it — Tim Matheson seducing Dean Wormer’s wife is hilarious. And don’t even get me started on Belushi’s antics). And of course, Robin Williams doing stand-up.

If laughter really is the best medicine, and laughing hard can bring tears to your eyes, then maybe it’s all one big continuum. And maybe that’s what makes us human.

Funny thing about that.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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things i wish i’d come up with

Posted by cgcopy on June 7, 2013 in coloring outside the lines

11949896971812381266light_bulb_karl_bartel_01.svg.medSome things I wish I’d thought of first. Not for the money or the notoriety — for the chance to say aha! before anyone else.

Post-Its
(Do you know anyone who doesn’t use them?)

Swiffer
(Dusting goes from being a pain in the neck to being … a smaller pain in the neck.)

The names Post-Its and Swiffer

Anything that Steve Jobs came up with

The idea for a clip-on reading light
(Although I have yet to find one that doesn’t cast shadows on the ceiling, scaring the crap out of me and keeping B. awake)

Couscous
(Doesn’t get easier than adding it to boiling water, then covering the pot and taking it off the heat. Five minutes later — dinner is served. Sort of.)

The word couscous

Convincing boomers that the Schwinns we rode as kids are trendy again
(I’ve got dibs on the pink one. With the basket.)

The mute button on the TV remote

The take-a-number dispenser at the bakery

The black-and-white cookies at the bakery

The fresh rye bread at the bakery

Okay, the bakery

Suitcases with wheels

The library

Drugstore reading glasses
(What came first — looking good or seeing better?)

The little black dress

Lists
(And the legal-size yellow pads to write them on)

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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on a roll

Posted by cgcopy on May 30, 2013 in coloring outside the lines

Retro-Women-Gossiping-300x203Is it just me, or has advertising reached a new low? As the saying goes, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intellect of the American public” — and recent commercials are evidence of just how many advertisers believe that maxim.

I’m referring to a batch of commercials — and not just from one single brand — for bathroom hygiene products; to wit, toilet paper and related items. Do we really need a family of animated bears explaining either 1) how you know when you’ve cleaned yourself thoroughly; 2) how many sheets of TP to use; and 3) how using their brand of TP can keep underwear clean? (That last one is so disgusting that I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.)

And how about that other family, this one animated with creepy excitement, who makes a competition of seeing who can come up with the best name for the toilet-paper-and-personal-wipes combo? Or the spot showing a number of lovely women, all dressed in some shade of purple for some reason, educating us on the virtues of how their TP can makes us feel clean, confident, and comfortable. What’s next? Commercials that teach how to use a tissue to blow your nose?

But that’s not all. It seems that advertisers have a fixation with explaining these kinds of products in painful, painstaking detail. And it doesn’t stop with people products. How about the kitty litter that explains how it’s not only better at dealing with a kitty’s #1 issues but also with #2. Except that the commercial can’t find a creative way to express that (although I believe that I just did). Instead, the voiceover describes both #1 and #2 in excruciatingly frank language. Ugh.

I’m a big fan of smart, creative advertising; in fact, that’s what I write for a living. I often find edgy, memorable, clever ads to be brilliant; I’ll even subscribe to the “shock and awe” approach when it truly is awesome. But this obsession with ads that explain to us the importance of these hygiene products — and how to use  them — fit into none of these categories.images

Makes me long for the days of Mr. Whipple.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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bark angel

Posted by cgcopy on May 27, 2013 in it's life

img_b2700422aa1A strange and wonderful thing happened at the most unexpected time. In the midst of all the stress of my mom’s recent passing, I experienced one of those moments that makes it clear, to me at least, that there are forces out there beyond explanation.

B. and I flew back to NY for the funeral about ten days ago. We arrived on Friday evening and spent the time until Sunday’s service at the home of dear friends out on eastern Long Island. Although these friends are dogless now (as are we), they used to have a loving, adoring, amazing Golden named TJ.

TJ and I were kindred spirits. Both blonde, both sweet, both happy to have our tummies tickled, TJ and I spent many hours together. One of my favorite moments was when the two of us sat side by side at our friends’ pool, my toes in the water, my arm around TJ, her tail wagging across the cement. TJ’s gift was her unending ability to make me feel calm, centered, and peaceful.

TJ passed on about two years ago, just before our friends relocated to NY.  While their new home is beautiful, her absence is most definitely felt.

As we walked around the East End town that Saturday afternoon, I saw the most adorable Golden puppy (a tiny version of TJ) just a few yards ahead of us. When I asked if I could pet his dog, the owner was more than happy to let me. He said he was hoping to have the puppy become a therapy dog — one of those wonderful dogs trained to help those in need to heal. The dog and I engaged in about five minutes of  joyful play, its sweet demeanor, its sense that I needed some extra loving, and its absolute adorableness completely making my day. Well, almost completely. Because when I asked the dog’s name, that final piece fell into place.

“His name is Toby,” the owner said. B., our friends, and I just looked at each other, speechless. TJ’s full name had been Toby Jr.; she had been named for our friends’ previous dog, Toby. And there it was — one of the universe’s ethereal, magical moments. It was as if, during one of the most difficult times of my life, TJ had come back to offer comfort and love.

What can I say? A case of the blonde leading the blonde.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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remembering my mom

Posted by cgcopy on May 20, 2013 in it's life

images-1My mom passed away just a few days ago and, at yesterday’s cemetery service, I had the chance to share my thoughts about her with the small group who attended. The words are from my heart.

“Thank you for being here today. I want to express our gratitude to you for your love and support — it truly touches my heart. My mom would thank you, too, if she could.

I’d like to say a few words about my mother this morning.

If you ask anyone who knew my mother to tell you something about her, I believe they would all comment on the same thing – her extraordinary love for my father. They shared a remarkable love affair; he was her entire life and always referred to her as his “beautiful bride.” I think that from the day he passed away almost 36 years ago to the moment she passed a few days ago, not even one tiny piece of her broken heart ever healed. The best days of her life were those spent with him. And I take comfort now in knowing that they are together again.

My mom was a loving mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She had three grandkids, thanks to my brother, and four great-grandchildren, thanks to one of his sons. They were all lights of her life. She also had a son-in-law whom she absolutely adored and a daughter-in-law whom she welcomed into the family 40 years ago.

My mom was a very religious woman in her own way. She had tremendous faith in God and was comforted by Jewish ritual. That is why today’s service and the preparations leading up to it have been so traditional. It’s what she would have wanted.

My mom was a very proud woman, always taking great pains with her appearance, including coloring her hair right up to the end. When she and my dad married in 1948, their black-and-white photos show a stunning young woman, who looked like one of those glamorous Hollywood stars from that era. She was at her happiest then, about to embark on the life she had always dreamed of.

Her greatest joy was making a warm and beautiful home for her husband and her children.

I’ll close with these words: I love you Mom and I’ll miss you terribly. Rest in peace, and say hi to Daddy for me.”

 

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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chemistry rules

Posted by cgcopy on May 10, 2013 in coloring outside the lines

90736-004-05FEA8C2When it comes to chemistry, one of two things is true — a) mix two elements together and nothing happens, or b) combine two elements, stand back, and wait for the fireworks. When it comes to onscreen chemistry, there are those couples whose dynamic is so hot, it’s amazing the screen doesn’t melt. Here’s my list of those deserving an “A” (for attraction):

Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie — Mr. & Mrs. Smith  With chemistry like that, it could have been real life. Oh, wait. It is.

Patrick Swayze & Jennifer Grey — Dirty Dancing  I spent plenty of time in the Catskills as a kid and I never saw anyone who looked like Johnny Castle. These two took sexy back onto the dance floor — all the while taking Baby out of the corner.

Barbra Streisand & Robert Redford — The Way We Were  He was the rich, privileged, gorgeous WASP whom working-class, Communist, beautiful (in a non-traditional way) Katie Morosky was warned about by her Jewish mother. Like that ever made a difference.

Lauren Bacall & Humphrey Bogart — To Have and Have Not  Her line was the sizzle heard ’round the world: “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve?  You just put your lips together. And blow.” His expression when he got her drift: priceless.

Cary Grant & Eva Marie Saint — North by Northwest  Way before the Mile High Club, these two were romancing on the rails.

Steve McQueen & Ali MacGraw — The Getaway  Hollywood’s Bad Boy and America’s Sweetheart in love. In lust. And in big trouble with the law.

Burt Lancaster & Deborah Kerr — From Here to Eternity  That kiss. On the beach. In the wet sand. (Is it hot in here … or is it just me?)

Chemistry (of attraction) is pretty powerful stuff. It’s been known to make men lose all sense of reason and women lose all sense of  …

What was I saying?

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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slip service

Posted by cgcopy on April 30, 2013 in it's life

I’ve never been the kind of woman to stop traffic. Nor would I want to be. Too much attention. Too much pressure. Too much maintenance. But despite all that, stop traffic I did. Picture this …

New York City, circa 1985. Think big shoulders. Big hair. High heels. Killer black dress. Black stockings. And the confidence that comes with being in your late 20s and knowing that you look amazing.

Okay, there I am, walking up 51st Street toward a client meeting a few blocks away, coatless, on a beautiful late spring morning. There’s a sway in my step; the perfect bounce to my hair; a vivid shade of red on my lips (hey, it was the ’80s). I could be the poster child for Sex in the City (if the show were around then). A sidelong glance into a store window assures me that yes, I am as fabulous as I think I am, and then … snap.

It happens as I cross the street. All of a sudden, my Carrie-Samantha-Charlotte-Miranda stride is broken by — what is that sliding down my legs toward my feet and making me stumble in my perfect black pumps? Alas, the snap I’d heard was the sound of the elastic waistband of my slip breaking. With each step I took, the slip worked its way down my legs until there I was, caught in the crosswalk, held captive by a small pool of black satin and lace.

That’s when the light turned green. I’d stopped traffic by blocking the way. What to do? Assuming my very best what-would-Audrey-Hepburn-do persona, I quickly stepped out of the slip, casually picked it up, and continued across the street, head held high. To their credit, those drivers stuck at the light didn’t utter a honk, a beep, or a “C’mon lady, what’s your problem?”

In fact, one cabbie got out of his taxi and gave me a standing ovation.

Fabulous is as fabulous does.

 

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

 

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good. bye!

Posted by cgcopy on April 26, 2013 in it's life

stylish-womanI am an extremely polite person. Unerringly so. I hold doors, yield to oncoming traffic, let the person with just a couple of items get ahead of me in line at the supermarket. I say “Yes, ma’am” to customer service reps over the phone, I clean out the lint trap after using the dryer (we live in an apartment building with a communal laundry room), I return library books on time.

Which is why rudeness, particularly in my personal space, is so inexcusable to me. To wit: a shopping center nearby, featuring at least eight top chain stores, has been beset for several months now by solicitors for a specific cause. These over-eager, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer go-getters stand just outside the stores, attempting to engage shoppers entering or leaving as well as those walking past. At first, they were stationed outside only one of the stores, then they expanded their area to several. Given that I like to park at one end of the shopping center and walk to the other (a little exercise seems to make a little shopping a little less sinful), I find myself passing them not infrequently, often walking through the parking lot to avoid an encounter.

Recently, I was distracted and, rather than making the effort to cross to the parking lot, I stayed the course. Big mistake, as evidenced by the approach of Ms. Not-Really-a-Do-Gooder.

She: (approaching me) Good morning, ma’am.

Me:  (walking by) Good morning.

She:  How are we this morning?

Me:  (polite smile)

She: (louder) I said, how are we this morning?

Me:  Sorry, no time today, thanks.

She: (offended, much louder) I was only being polite and asking how you are!

Me:  (to myself) This is polite? Seriously?

Is it just me or did Ms. Not-Really-a-Do-Gooder actually take offense because I wouldn’t let her intrude on me to hawk her cause? Sounds like someone forgot to get on the “charm” line at charm school. Here’s another tip:  if I was uninterested when I passed you going in one direction, please don’t stop me when I return in the opposite direction as if you hadn’t seen me ten minutes earlier. That’s not only rude — it doesn’t make you look too smart. And if you’re not smart, then your judgment and credibility in terms of the cause you’re trying to ram down my throat is … so very questionable.

I see your banner, I see your sign-up table, I see the message on your t-shirt — and I see that I am not interested at the moment. Try to see my side.

Might do you some real good.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman

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