Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, I worked at the local Barbizon Modeling and Acting School. I sold the program, made appearances at schools, and taught the main curriculum.
These days Barbizon feels cringy: there have been class action suites against various franchisees for false claims. Back in the day it was cringy, too. I did a presentation at a school, collected names of interested students, then later called those students to sell the program for oodles of their parents hard-earned money. And the course decidedly did not make you a famous model.
(Oh, for sure, some people have taken what they learned and gone on to succeed. A coworker went on to found a real modeling agency that did lead people to success; she also became a real talent scout, too. But for the most part, Barbizon is not a reputable pathway to becoming a glamorous model in New York or Paris. You might model for the local Maurice’s. You might model lingerie between boxing bouts during a gentlemen’s night at an upper-crust club downtown or at a local lingerie store (I did.) But the classes are more self-improvement and polishing than modeling.)
Anyway, one day at the main Toledo Lucas County Public Library (or was it one of the branches? I don’t remember, but boy, I spent a lot of time in that building and the Sanger Branch on Central Avenue.) I stumbled on a book about self-improvement from the late 60s or early 70s, maybe. The details of the book don’t matter. Heck, even the title escapes me, and frankly doesn’t matter all that much.
What does matter is that somewhere in that book were a few paragraphs about authenticity. And what matters more for you and me is that up until that point, I don’t recall authenticity applying to a person or a way of being.
Antiques
Authenticity was for antiques. It went hand-in-hand with provenance. Between the two, you can prove that the piece is as true as possible. Here’s a simple explanation from someone who is not an antique dealer. (For ‘real’ definition and lengthy discussion, you might want to talk with my cousin or my mom; they are both antique dealers.)
According to this article from Nelson & Nelson Antiques, provenance acts, “…as a historical roadmap that details the journey of an item through time.” Authentication, however, is more about looking for patina, wear patterns, observing the glaze or type of wood and construction techniques – among other things.
Together, they allow you to purchase a piece knowing without a doubt that it is exactly what it is. In a world rife with reproductions, AI, and deep fakes, that’s saying something.
1970s Magazines
That book I found was full of the kind of beauty and dating advice you’d imagine of the time. A lot was drivel to be honest:
- 100 Ways To Get A Husband
- The Do’s and Don’ts of Breaking Up
- 10 Ways To Wear Your Bangs
- 6 Swanky Looks That Don’t Cost A Cent
Implementing all of the suggestions would have kept me busy for years.
But boy, we sure lived for those innocuous tips from every magazine we could get our hands on, didn’t we? Each month, Seventeen or Mademoiselle or Glamour were literal bibles to be read from end-to-end showing the way to be a teen or young woman. But they didn’t and do not preach authenticity.
You might be brave enough to wear some kooky rainbow toe socks with calf-length jean gauchos, but these would not make you authentic. (I did wear those, along with a red wool sweater and some beige earth shoes. It always felt like people stared at me in the high school halls.)
Magazines made you want to be just like everyone else, except your version might wear Chic jeans instead of Calvin Kleins. Come to think of it, I think I wore both because I was always reaching for something I couldn’t express.
Be Popular
I thought I was pursuing popularity or fame or money. I thought I wanted marriage and a life companion. I thought I wanted to (metaphorically at least) sit on a mountaintop and meditate until the world and all my worldly concerns vanished.
For this blog, I thought I was going to follow conventional business wisdom and niche this little corner of the internet down into a precious gem.
But I’m not a niche. I’m authentic. And authentic is so much more substantial than the one-trick pony of a niche.
The one thing I have been searching for all of my life is that which I have become: authentic. With all my triumphs and losses, I am who I am.
I had to sit with that for a while. To be honest, just writing it out caused a wave of recognition pass through my body.
Automatic Somatic
Somatic therapists are all the rage on TikTok these days. Proponents tell you how trauma is stored in the body and how to activate your vagus nerve for instant stress relief. And there’s truth in all of it. Everywhere, all the time. (See that movie if you haven’t.)
Personal power lives in all the chakras. For me, especially, living my authenticity lights up the whole tower of color from the first chakra to the seventh. It trickles down to the Earth Star and upwards to the Heavens. It is calm and centered.
[If you think that paragraph is nonsense or just a different way of viewing the world, go read about my experience at the Sacred Waterfall. Or maybe I need to create a dictionary or encyclopedia? Crystal Links does a job but can be tricky to navigate.]
Authenticity, therefore, isn’t something you can learn from a book or a magazine. It must be lived, and then it is. And it took me a long time to get here.
Random Heading To Increase Readability
I’ve been thinking about how to earn a living in retirement. You can’t live on social security alone, they say. And who knows how long those social security reserves will really last because “they” have been saying it will be depleted for as long as I’ve been looking forward to retiring. I mostly listed things I didn’t want to do:
- No retail.
- No office.
- No dealing with the general public like at a library.
A friend suggested I work at a garden center or greenhouse. I shot that down immediately by saying, “And it will be hours on your feet, lifting heavy pots, in 100 degrees minimum. No thanks.”
The one thing I have now is time. Time to work out what works for me going forward. But not too long because the reality is that I likely have 20-25 more years in this beautiful body. The CDC says that the 2026 average life expectancy for women in the US is 81.4 years. If we call it 82, then I have 18 years; maybe longer because my mom is over 90 now.
I won’t be ‘working’ as such, but it’s very likely that I’ll be here, writing. I’ve been doing that since creating “The Lost Jewels” in second grade, albeit with long stretches of living and wondering and no writing.
So how will I spend these last decades? I have no clear idea. Meandering is the plan for now.
Despite that meandering, I can guarantee I will strive to be more authentic than ever, that’s for sure. I have failed a lot because there are so many interesting digressions available in this realm that we, the spirit of god, inhabit. I’m still ever hopeful, rising to the stars.
Summary
- Today’s tea: Scottish Blend tea bags. These were supplied in the Airbnb I shared with friends in Edinburgh. They are available on Amazon.
- Today’s Song: The whole damned Hadestown soundtrack due to the recent release of the proshot in movie theaters. This morning it’s Reeve Carney‘s soaring vocals in the middle of the Epic III sequence.
- In this scene, Hades implores Orpheus to sing for an old (and cranky) man. Orpheus does so, thus bringing the world back into balance by restoring the love of Hades and Persephone.
- The la la la’s before the dance lift me up. The following dance itself brings tears of joy.
- As of this writing on August 1, the proshot is still in movie theaters around the US: go see it now.
- Today’s Question: How to do it? Who do you want to be? Which thread should I pull on? Which rabbit hole do I explore next?
