Most things can be fixed with duct tape. Some things can be saved with a Sharpie pen. Off I went this morning to Staples to get a stamp made for my business cards saying “visit my blog: mytorontoeh.com” AND for a black Sharpie pen to cross out a certain line to save myself from ordering another 2000…it is Earth week after all. I love a small chore and a visit to Gerrard Square. I never come out empty handed, am a sucker for a kiosk where they have some really good ones for iPhone covers and danglies for the rearview mirror. Today I wasn’t really there to browse because I meant business and so did the cholita who served me. Lovely girl and amazing service but! eyebrows that were part Joan Crawford and other part Grade 6 Geometry, all angles and arches and curves in perfect symmetry and coloured in with the precision of a true artiste. I relate to Joan Crawford who once called her one wild, curly, errant eyebrow hair “Oscar” and she refused to let her makeup artist pluck “him” out. Me, I’m not so attached to my Oscars as they make me look like a grouch. So off I went to The Brow House to get my brows “designed” for the first time in all my 80 years. Yes, I have been using tweezers but also kitchen shears to trim them. I am the pot calling the kettle black when I obsess over other people’s eyebrows. Eyes may be the windows to the soul but the brows are their gossip columns.
The Brow House 1256 Queen Street East, east of Leslie
The ladies at the Brow House take eyebrows seriously. They combine art and science when creating the perfect brow. The fuzzy small hairs are waxed and the long ones are plucked. Oscars are brushed and trimmed. The absentee ones that you lost from old age or overplucking are reborn with a special wand filled with cholita dust and feathered on with precison strokes that God should have done in the first place. Does it hurt? I don’t know, who cares? Do I look exquisite? Yes, I do:
Next trip: Botox Village