The Eternal Triangle...

Geometrically, a triangle is a plane figure bounded by three sides, with three internal angles. At school, we learned there were three types of triangle. The scalene has three sides of unequal length, the isosceles has two equal sides and the equilateral has its three sides and internal angles, equal. Later on, we learned about love triangles, the Bermuda triangle, and the eternal triangle. Always, there is a magical association with the number three. The triangle crops up in nature, mainly as wedges of broken ice. A hunk of matter must have at least three corners, you see, and the triangle is a dead cert.
I learned to love Toblerone, that rather classy chocolate bar that I always associate with airports – though it can be bought in any supermarket or grocer. I still remember their advertising jingle from the 1970s or 1980s; something about a land with triangular bees, and triangular trees, and oh, Mr Confectioner, please…http://www.toblerone.co.uk/toblerone1/page?siteid=toblerone1-prd&locale=uken1&Mid=586&PagecRef=628

Vital Vidal and brand Sassoon...

Just recently, maestro hairdresser Vidal Sassoon was on television, talking about his life, work and products. When he mentioned the latter, I cheered and punched the air. Many posts ago, I wrote about an extraordinary VS hairdryer that I had bought in 2002 for £12.99 and that was/is still going strong; 1800 watts, folding handle, 2 heat/speed settings, worldwide dual voltage, and cool shot button. My only issues with Brand Sassoon are his prescribed hairstyles. In short, I just haven’t got the jaw line for a full-on ‘geometric’.
I can take Vidal’s line about the influence of modern art and the Bauhaus in his craft – how could I not? Witness the photo of me at that hallowed, Dessau location, c. 2001. Mondrian, Gehry, Foster; I worship them all. But a gal has to be built along modernist lines to walk the walk of Shrimpton, Hornby, Farrow, et al. Interestingly, Sassoon did for female hair in the 1960s what Coco Chanel did for female clothing in the 1920s. Her response to the emerging machine aesthetic was the cloche, a hat devoid of ornamentation that followed the line of the human head. But a gal could still whip off her cloche to reveal the fluffy, Marcel bob underneath – and I now bow my fluffy, unruly mop to these geniuses of hair, clothing and architecture.

Hexed again, or another idea that got away..

In geometry, a hexagon has six edges, or sides. On a regular hexagon, all of the sides are the same length and the total sum of its internal angles amount to 720 degrees, while its internal angles are individually 120 degrees. A hexagon is easy to visualise. Just think of the waxen honeycomb of the bee; it is made of a myriad of interlocking hexagonal cells. The cells interlock so that they take up the least amount of space, and the hexagon is the only polygon – apart from the triangle - that interlocks.
The bee ‘chooses’ to build her combs in a hexagon rather than a triangle, because the walls of a triangular cell would be longer and more fragile than the sturdier, hexagonal structure. The hexagon occurs elsewhere in nature. Ancient volcanic formations are often made of hexagonal columns of basalt, the most common volcanic rock. The rock is a crystalline solid, or a solid whose atoms and molecules are arranged in a repeating pattern, extending in all three dimensions. Even when solidified into monoliths, the rocks ‘remember’ the hexagonal shape. Before finishing this post, I thought of the most glorious marketing strategy…hexagonal honey jars…now why didn’t I think of that before? It turns out that many people already have...

http://www.modernbeekeeping.co.uk/item/175/8-oz-hexagonal-honey-jars-with-lids---box-of-94

Strategy in Stratford...

Ah, capitalism, the mechanism that promises so much, yet takes away so much more. Even since the west London Westfield shopping mall opened its doors, three years ago, I thought naively that the name ‘Westfield’ had some local significance, that there had once been a house, or street, or even hamlet of that name. But no, it is the name of a company – or group of companies – that has built a ‘Westfield’ in several UK locations.

Yesterday, fortune took me to Stratford. I had been there several years earlier, and in my innocence, expected to see the vistas as of five years ago. But, I had forgotten that Stratford is being ‘redeveloped’ in anticipation of a major sporting event, next year. Only a call of nature drew me into the new Westfield, the conveniences that were on the old plaza seeming to have vanished. It was horrible inside; overheated, with garish decorations and piped ‘seasonal’ music blaring everywhere. But when you’re desperate…ah me, what do I know? Maybe the good citizens of Stratford actually welcome a great banal, plastic mall being dumped strategically between the old train station and the new bus station?

Maybe they found crossing that main road to that older, grainier Stratford Centre just too much and possibly, too dangerous? Maybe the hordes of visitors expected in the town, next year, really do need another Boots, and another Marks and Sparks, and so forth…really, what do I know? But it all smacks of strategic capitalism to me, and I don't like it. Short of joining the woolly-hatted ones in front of St Paul’s, I don’t see what we can do about it. Over to you...

Making scents...

It is hard to believe now, but around about a decade and a half ago, I decided to venture into the making of cosmetics. After the world was taken over in the 1980s by nasty, big corporations there was a sudden rush back to nature in the 1990s. City workers sold their Barbican pads and suburban semis, and moved into the countryside to run ‘organic’ farms – was there ever any other kind? Entire tranches of a pampered, industrialized population turned their attention to personal counselling, reiki healing, jam making, jumper knitting, and more crafts than a coven of witches. Of course, I had to be in on the game. Farming was beyond me – never could stand the smell of manure – so I went in the opposite direction, scent-wise. Aromatherapy was the new cool, and making scents made perfect sense to me. Two (good) books on the subject and a set of oils later, my fingers were twitching to make facial concoctions, body lotions and rejuvenating potions.
No more of my hard-won cash disappearing into the coffers of Boots and Superdrug, I muttered, as I stirred a mixture of Brewer’s Yeast powder, almond oil and other forgotten ingredients, on my kitchen counter. So, why haven’t I knocked Jo Malone off the shelves? For starters, I didn’t understand the importance of preservatives in patent cosmetics and toiletries. Without them, you only have a limited time to use the homemade stuff. Then, it has to be stored in a refrigerator. Since I only own one ‘coolbox’, this meant tolerating food with a definite floral tang – and the sight of your homemade glop amid the comestibles. I’ll never forget the horror on a friend’s face when I inadvertently opened the fridge door and revealed the scatological loveliness of my face pack mixture in a clear, glass bowl. It was no small matter convincing her my place was perfectly hygienic. But most of all, I couldn’t bear the thought of never shopping again.
I just love buying cosmetics. I just love the glamour of it all, the whole experience; going into a well-ordered chemist store or cosmetic department and taking my pick of the elegant, sheeny bottles and jars on offer, going home and pouring over the glossy packaging of a product that promises perfect skin…aaah! At the end of the day, I can look up and say its because I was worth it…

Glitches and ellipses...

An ellipse is a closed curve that looks like a circle that has been squashed flat. Circles viewed from an angle – like the rings of Saturn – often look elliptical. Whereas every point on a circle is exactly the circumference divided by pii, divided by two in distance from the centre, a body would need a qualification in integral calculus to plot every point on the curve of an ellipse. The ellipse does not occur so readily in nature as the circle. Since a circle viewed from an angle can appear elliptical, Galileo thought he was seeing things when he plotted the path of a comet through the newly-fledged telescope. Well, he was. He was seeing an elliptical path, but the seventeenth-century genius thought it was all illusory. This was the only thing he was ever wrong about – apart from getting chummy with people who eventually betrayed him. In the meantime, I struggle to create a ‘simple’ ellipse with pin and string…

Age of Wisdom

I received one only this morning from a well-known organisation concerned with age; save yourself money and your loved ones worry and expense. They haven't stopped in the past year and a half; junk letters advertising life insurance policies, funeral expense plans, catalogues filled with 'age' aids like Stannah stair lifts, thermal underwear, incontinence gear, special shoes and walking sticks, and every bathroom aid imaginable for pulling onself in and out of bath and shower, on and off loo, and so on. My crime? A year and a half ago, I had the temerity to turn fifty - yes! Fifty, that grand old age that brings with it diminishing responsibility, decay and decreptitude...hang on! I'm still working my way through the works of Shakespeare. And after that, there is Webster, and Milton, and Camus, and...have these commercial chuggers never heard that the half-century is the dawning of the age of wisdom in man (and woman!), that the advancing years bring increased knowledge in life, deepening understanding, broadening philosophy? Instead of these eetie-tweetie, icky-ticky pastel-covered brochures with their patronising depiction of smiling, silver-haired models enjoying their twilight years, would someone kindly acknowledge my intellectual maturity and send me instead, books by ancients like Plato, Aristotle, Scorates....after all, soon I will be one of their number.