Next post: A beautiful new gallery, the Sigmund Samuel Canadiana gallery, at , Queens Park Cres. W., holds the largest collection of Canadiana available to the public; it includes a magnificent showing of historical portraits, and prints and water colours of early Canadian life; some of the works are by great masters. (Open to daily; to , Sun.; closed Mon. Admission free). The displays are changed three times a year, in Feb.
Tousled Hair: The Ultimate Inspiration
Hair and Beauty Secrets
The inquisition began. I was told in no uncertain terms that the symptoms I had described were impossible, and that the red circles under my eyes simply were not there. Period. Miss Gabrielle sat in a chair nearby, taking notes on every word that was said in Hungarian. The questions began. “When you were eight, did you have pimples on your cheeks?” I didn’t remember any and so I said, “No.” The questioning went on, with Dr. Laszlo’s eyes never leaving mine and leading me through my hair and skin life from age eight to the present.
And when we got to the present and my problems, Dr. Laszlo would coolly say, “I do not believe you. We will begin again. When you were eight …” I began to realize how suspects feel in a police question session. All that was missing was the light in my eyes (and
that was soon to come). After reviewing my case from age eight enough times to have me questioning what my hair and skin had been like, Dr. Laszlo looked straight at me and said bluntly, “What you are saying is not true. Miss Gabrielle, take her to the back!”
Not knowing whether “the back” meant internment or what, I meekly followed Miss Gabrielle to a blindingly white, blindingly lit, and smelling-of-something-beautiful laboratory peopled by bustling ruffle-capped assistants, all speaking in whispers. I was plopped into the examination chair and there was that bright light on my hair and skin and Dr. Laszlo armed with a magnifying glass and having a good, long look at it. My desire to be Beautiful People almost faded right there.
The doctor pinched up the hair and skin on the back of my hand and said, “Hmmmm. Too bad. The kind of hair and skin that ages very early.” Cheers. Then he informed me that yes, when I was eight, I had pimples on my cheeks and what is worse, “you squeezed them every one!”
It was pronounced like the death sentence. Later, I questioned my own mother about these supposed pimples and she can’t remember any, either. But nothing missed Dr. Laszlo’s eyes.
Right about then, I nervously declared trying to get off that uncomfortable hook that I was probably allergic to my new boyfriend. (Well, he did have oily hair and skin.) Dr. Laszlo looked me straight in the eye and said, “Miss Gabrielle, write that down!” And so into my chart that went. Still in Hungarian. From that lame attempt at witticisms, Dr. Laszlo learned more about my character than I knew myself.
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