Vintage Style

Find the fashion lover in this photo: An easy task, given that my wonderful grandma Angela Zayshley is front-and-centre sporting a black-and-white dress, flat shoes and her trademark bright red hair. She is standing next to my grandpa and my dad on his wedding day. You can see tell-tale signs that this picture was taken in a small Saskatchewan town, from the festively decorated car with a plastic swan on the roof, to the expansive sky, to the grain elevator looming in the background. 

I guess you could say my grandmother—she refused to be called “baba,” the typical name for a Ukrainian matriarch—went against the grain. Her husband was a working man who preferred to live on his farm; my dad was a sort of Rockabilly guy replete with sideburns wearing a... what kind of collar is that? But my grandma was pure glamour. Even with a limited budget and not much access to great shopping, she turned out Fifth Avenue-worthy looks no matter what the occasion. Her sense of colour and adventure was truly original. It wasn’t odd to see her wearing hot pinks, glaring yellows and shimmering golds—maybe even in the same outfit. We’d often scratch our heads and wonder, “where did she buy that?” 

I have always been enthralled with her love of fashion and she inspires me to dress well every day. Many other people found her form of self-expression irresistible, too; however, several of her fellow small-town residents didn’t understand it. She dressed elegantly to replicate on the outside her inner joy and love of life; I don’t think many people around her loved life as much as she did.

My Grandma Zayshley just turned 93 this year. She still has red hair, and she still lives alone, keeping herself busy by caring for her immense wardrobe. If I were to knock on her door right now she would most definitely be wearing an unexpectedly chic ensemble. I once asked her who inspires her to dress the way she does. Her reply? “Me.” A true original.

Here are some more of my favorite pictures of my grandma:

This is my grandma and me Christmas 2008

This is a painting I did of my grandma. She's a saint to me.

Thank you Moroccanoil Light Oil Treatment and Luminous Hairspray

Moroccanoil Light Oil Treatment for Fine and Light-Colored Hair will make you wish you'd never set eyes on Alberto VO5 Hot Oil Treatment. Click here to find out more.

I just experienced a hair miracle of the highest order. I know I should downplay this since it’s Easter, and we all know that was a huge miracle, too. But I’ve pondered the mystery of Jesus for decades and I’ve only had good hair once. Here’s how it went down:

I am constantly on the look out for new hair products. Most styling aids simply don’t work for me. Like my mother, I have baby-fine hair—the bane of our existences. Here’s what I/we need in a hair product: it has to be volumizing, it must give me texture and definition, it has to impart a healthy shine, it must create a lived-in look on clean hair and it has to smell good.... and it has to hold my style all day.... and not flake between washes. Simple, right? I’m just a regular guy.

My friend G. was raving about Moraccanoil the last time I saw her, and I’ve been obsessed with trying it ever since. I am skeptical about putting oil in my hair, though; My hair and deep conditioning do not mix. (I once deep conditioned my hair with coconut oils then washed it with a coconut shampoo before I had to sing an aria at a friend's wedding. I looked like Squiggy from Laverne & Shirley.) But when I saw that Moroccanoil is now offering a hairspray and a light oil formula I decided to give them both a try.

Moroccanoil Luminous Hairspray Strong Flexible Hold is infused with argon oil and truly gives your hair weightless hold! Click here to learn more.

I dabbed a small amount of the Moroccanoil Light Hair Treatment into my hands and applied it to my washed and towel-dried hair. Nice smell. Not too greasy. So far, so good. I blow dried my hair the way I normally do. (This is when the miracle started to begin.) As I dried my hair, I noticed it taking on a heavenly sheen and other-worldly body. It was the best blow-drying experience of my life. Even better than the ones Sharon used to give me at Partner's in Yorkton. My style was truly enlightened. I looked like an 80s movie star—the look I am currently going for.

As I ran my fingers through my hair—perhaps a little too sensually—it fell into place exactly how I wanted it to. I nervously reached for the Moroccanoil Luminous Hairspray and started spraying for my life. “So this is what a luxe hairspray is supposed to be like,” I thought to myself as a superfine-yet-powerful mist coated my locks. Now the true test began—how long will this all last. Some miracles are but an illusion.

I constantly checked in on my hair through the day. Ran my fingers through it. Gave myself flirty eyes. It held up. If anything it somehow improved! But here is when I knew I had a bonafide miracle on my head. The next morning I woke up, dragged myself to the bathroom and expecting to see my usual cross between Alfalfa and the guy from Flock of Seagulls:

Only to find I was still more like Ted McGinley. 

Somehow my style held up through the night. That never happens to me when I have longer hair. Amazing!

So this is two miracles for me (I kept on waking up in third year university with stigmata). Now with this latest hair-related miracle I only have one more to go before I’m up for canonization and I’m really nervous about it. Talk about a big step in life. But, if anything, my newfound good hair might open up a host of miraculous activity in my life. And when Pope Benedict XVI kisses my head to congratulate me, he will bury his nose in my soft voluminous coif, breathe deeply and say, “do you use Moroccanoil by any chance?”




To find out more about Moroccanoil, or to find the nearest salon that carries it, visit www.moroccanoil.com