Her ethereal voice has been heard all over the airways lately in commercials for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA). But Sarah McLachlan’s charitable soul has been giving back to a variety of causes since she stepped on stage and into the limelight.

This Canadian singer/songwriter/activist has been putting out hits for over two decades. Starting with her 1988 debut album, Touch, McLachlan has been rewarded with a slew of gold and platinum selling albums — not to mention four Grammys. But her contributions outside the recording studio definitely rival in resonance any sonic accomplishments.

Her most well-known contribution was Lilith Fair. The music festival celebrated the power of femininity while offering more than 100 female artists the opportunity to perform in front of millions of fans. But McLachlan’s altruistic ambitions have only continued to grow since then. She started the Sarah McLachlan Foundation in 1999 which introduces music into the lives of young Canadians in under-served communities. She also has been advocating for animals through her touching SPCA commercials and as the spokesperson for the B.C. SPCA. Her commercials have already moved animal lovers to donate $30 million to the rescue organization.

McLachlan took the majority of the $150,000 production budget for her 2004 video, “World On Fire” and donated it to eleven charitable organization including War Child, Help The Aged, Engineers Without Borders and CARE. Proving money isn’t everything, the music video (which only cost $15 to produce) ended up receiving a Grammy Award nomination for best short form music video.

In recognition of all her charitable work in her native Canada, McLachlan is set to receive the Allan Waters Humanitarian Award on March 28, the night before the annual televised Juno Awards show — basically the Canadian version of the Grammys. This selfless entertainer continues to grace the world with her uplifting melodies and generous heart and she’s inspiring a world of bellists to do the same.

photo by duane storey

activist, allan waters humanitarian award, animals, canada, CARE, engineers without borders, grammy, help the aged, juno award, lilith fair, music, sarah mclachlan, sarah mclachlan foundation, singer, songwriter, spca, That Girl, war child Hide

I don’t know if Beyonce personally discovered the sound or what, but lately hip hop music has solely consisted of a back beat that innately causes you to shake your booty. It almost sounds like the producers scientifically found the exact sound/beat that causes the booty to shake. It’s a natural response and there’s no other movement that would suffice other than shaking it.

Unfortunately these days, the hip hop scene is no longer cultivating the talents of true artists but it’s getting overrun by carbon copy artists all focusing on booty shaking hits. It pains me to even call them hip hop. So I personally refer to them as “pop” hop.

These pop hop songs usually consist of formulaic compositions of a ridiculously catchy chorus and a mediocre rapper degrading women. The male rappers have modeled their vocals to sound similar to Jay-Z. (Great. Just what we need, more monotonous sounding rappers filling the airwaves.) And the female vocalists are usually busy in the song, filling it with repetitive trills that sound obviously forced. And for some strange reason, every song seems to have a solo performed by a synthesized robot. Stop it! Just stop!

Let’s get things straight: I’m a huge fan of hip hop music. And when I refer to hip hop music, I’m talking about the beat masters and lyricists, such as Jurassic 5, Guru, The Roots, Blackalicious and Black Eyed Peas, before they sold out and added the poster girl for plastic surgery. And don’t get me started on Fergie that can be an entirely different article.

Don’t get me wrong. I love having a song that makes me want to shake it, but it shouldn’t be a whole genre of music. We’ve got to have variety and cultivate some artistic exploration.

So if you’re looking for some new tunes, here are my suggestions. And remember this is where the love child talk begins.

1.    K’naan’s latest album, Troubadour- If Bob Marley and Mos Def had a love child that listened to butt rock.
2.    Scienz of Life’s album, The Blaxploitation Instrumentals- John Legend and DJ Shadow have a love child that makes elevator music cool.
3.    Raphael Saadiq’s newest album, The Way I See It- Can’t really do a love child for this one, but it sounds like an album that came straight out of Motown. It’s got class written all over it.

photo by scott robinson

Beyonce, black eyed peas, blackalicious, bob marley, dj shadow, fergie, guru, hip hop, jay-z, john legend, jurassic 5, k'naan, mos def, motown, music, pop hop, raphael saadiq, scienz of life, the roots Hide

With a style that commands attention and a fearlessness that inspires emulation, Alexis Walker is poised to take over the fashion world. She’s a woman who knows how to dream big, as evident from her success as a stylist, art director, and painter. But it’s her unapologetic self-awareness that truly makes her a bellist. “If you’re going to do life, you need to do it over the top,” Walker declares. And at the young age of 24, she’s doing just that.

Raised by artistic parents and bohemian friends, Walker had an appetite for fashion and beauty from the beginning. Her love for Patricia Fields and the glamorous aesthetic of late-‘90s NY club kids inspired her first clothing line when she was 15. A year later, she moved from Vancouver to Los Angeles to model, where she found herself more interested in what the stylists and art directors were doing behind the camera than her own work in front of the lens. After attaining her BFA, Walker leapt straight into a life of fashion.

“So many people choose a career that they think will be stable and will provide for them,” Walker proclaims. “But if you follow your passion, the universe provides for you.” With this attitude, Walker began styling for photo shoots and personal clientele, and now directs her own editorials for independent submission. “I wasn’t seeing my vision come into fruition exactly the way I imagined. So I grabbed a camera and my friends, and started doing my own projects.”

Though punk rock’s gritty high glamour influences Walker’s editorial styling, she doesn’t allow her personal preferences to overwhelm her models. “My friends are my muses. Yes, the clothes come from me. But it’s their personality, their style, their edge that is most important.”

As demonstrated by her respect for her friends’ individual tastes, Walker believes that great style is personal and the best accessory is a sense of self. “There’s nothing worse than when you see someone with every single label and trend, but nothing of themselves. Fashion is about you, not the clothes—so go all out. Use it as a source of self-expression.”

Walker is inspired by the strong and varied women around her, and she wants to inspire those who look towards her to be as bold in character as well as in fashion. Walker contends, “Women have such a great power to be unmatched in beauty. While a lot of my style icons were men as I grew up, it’s because they had were daring, as boys, to dress a little over the top. But women have this untapped power that if they took the same outfit and put it on, if they sort of own themselves, it’s the most beautiful and sexiest thing in the world.”

Though she always looks to forecast trends and redefine physical beauty in her work, Walker maintains that true beauty is understanding yourself, honing your individuality and standing by your passions. “My mom always told me that at 20, you have the face you were born with, and at 40, you have the face you deserve. So be a little more at peace with yourself,” Walker advises. “Be more open to sharing your ideas. Because when you release things, expose things, and share things, so much more comes back to you than when you try to control and hold onto yourself.”

To find out more about Alexis Walker, check out her blog, Blue Sky Boredom.

alexis walker, artist, blog, dream big, fashion, model, passion, stylist Hide

The word Eve Ensler uses is “femicide.” The crimes are more horrible though than any word can relate. Rape is being used to torment not only women, but their husbands and brothers and sons. Families are being torn up as easily as pieces of paper and then scattered along the road. It is an egregious and relentless form of warfare. The major violence in the Congo began in 1996, marked by a civil war to overthrow the dictator, but things worsened as the conflict soon involved neighboring African countries. The situation has been labeled an African World War, taking over five million lives thus far.

Ensler, well known for The Vagina Monologues, and as the founder of V-Day, a global movement to end violence against women and girls, has become a champion of the cause to protect the women of the Congo. This year, the focus of V-Day is the Congo situation, embodied in the campaign: “Stop Raping Our Greatest Resource: Power to Women in the DRC.”

The campaign is working to build awareness in order to create a platform for real change. The V-Day campaign website is encouraging individuals to host teach-ins in order to educate others, to write a letter to the President of the Congo and to post campaign posters. Ensler is also currently on a speaking tour with Dr. Mukwebe entitled ‘Turning Pain to Power.’ Mukwabe is a hero himself in the Congo for his work at the Panzi hospital. He is one of the people who has given the country hope, who has worked tirelessly to put back together the women who have been crippled by the violence.

The campaign is advocating for change at multiple levels of government in order to increase protection for women and punishment for the perpetrators. As awareness increases, it will be easier to create more accountability for these standards. Currently, President Kabila is doing nothing. MONUC (the UN mission to the Congo) is ineffective. And the recent cease fire, signed in 2008 is irrelevant in the face of the continued violence.

It is impossible to grasp this situation without hearing the voices of the women who have been used and discarded. Late last year, V-Day and UNICEF organized “Women Breaking the Silence” in Goma and Bukavu, which gave women the chance to speak out publicly for the first time. The following is an excerpt from one of the women’s stories (www.vday.org). Her name is Janet.

‘When I hear a boom, I am terrified. The pain they felt when they took my leg over my head as they raped me. The leg was loose and they were pulling it. I was screaming the pain was so great. I had 2 surgeries-nothing they could do. Head of the thigh bone was gone. I will be on crutches for the rest of my life.
“I’ve always been courageous. Always will be courageous. If the military want to kill me for telling my story, I am ready to die.”’

The stories are so terrible that you want to cringe and cry out and scream, out of fear and terror and hopelessness. Sometimes this is what we must do, because when we turn away it gets really dangerous.  If this story stirs anything in you, go to http://newsite.vday.org/drcongo. Immediately.

africa, african world war, congo, eve ensler, femicide, mukwebe, presiden kabila, rape, unicef, V-Day, vagina monologues, violence Hide

Here’s the deal, falling off the wagon hurts. It usually takes a brutal bump to knock you off in the first place. Then you’re left on the ground banged up and bruised as your trolley car zooms off indifferent to whether you’re aboard or not. So why are we so surprised at how difficult it is to jump back on? Because then, as insult to injury, is the fact that we have to bust our butts to catch up with a train that’s miles ahead without any indication of stopping any time soon when all we want to do is sulk and be disappointed that we fell off in the first place.

So what train did you fall of? Was it the “workout” train, the “wake up” early bus, the “make more time for family and friends” taxi, the “diet” metro or the “spend less” light rail? Because I’ll tell you what. I fell off my own wagon three weeks ago and I have been feeling far too sorry for myself, too bitter and disappointed to get back up and chase after my first class ticket on the workout wagon.

Here’s the deal, I haven’t worked out in days. Okay. Weeks. And trust me, I have so many excuses- I’ve been traveling; I’ve been working insane hours; my back was bothering me; I haven’t had a spare second; I wasn’t feeling well and had too many unexpected things comes up; blah, blah, blah.

All I know is it feels like my train is thousands of miles away. I can’t hear it, I can’t see it and I can’t even smell the smoke from here. I feel completely out of shape and kind of have that feeling of “Where do I even begin?” So tonight is the last night I’m feeling sorry for myself and the last excuse I’ll make.

Tomorrow is the day, the beginning of my long marathon to getting back in shape. More than anything else, it’s back to making myself a priority, my health a priority, and for that I want to sprint. So this is for all of you out there who need a bit of encouragement; this is for both of us. I’m not sure about you, but I need it. Short and sweet, we fall off often. It won’t be the first time and it’s certainly not the last, but make it a point to get back on it, whatever mode of transportation you’re chasing.

I’ll keep you posted, but tomorrow I have a gym date at 7:30 in the morning and a 9 am meeting with a trainer who will assign a six day a week, intensive program. Sometimes we need a person who’s still on the train to reach down and give us a hand. My new trainer is that hand. So find that person in your life. They say the first step is always the hardest because it feels more like a jump across a forty foot chasm- but go for it. It’s the only way to get to the other side of where you want to be. Good luck and rock it.

photo by zach bronnel

achieving goals, diet, goals, gym, health, schedule, transportation, work, workout Hide

On a recent February Friday, I primped and primed to meet Jason*, the person behind the profile. Jason had appeared in my “Daily 5” one week ago, when Match.com figured that two non-smoking, dog-loving, book-reading people would be bound to hit it off. I figured I had nothing to lose, and after a series of emails to break the ice and detect any freak flags, we finally decided to meet up.

In a teal blouse, my go-to skinny jeans and a new pair of heels I’m out the door and headed towards a wine bar in Santa Monica…

8:20 p.m.: Heeding a roommate’s advice, I arrive early. I shimmy up to the bar and order a glass of champagne.

8:22 p.m.: I get a text message from Jason that he’s running a few minutes late. I assure him that it’s fine, and as the room grows more crowded, I contemplate telling him what color top I’m wearing. I decide not to, but do let him know where I’m sitting.

8:27 p.m.: There’s a moment of panic when I inadvertently make eye contact with a much older man seated across the bar. He gives a small wave and I instinctively smile even though my gut tells me to bolt—if this is Jason, then I am leaving. He looks nothing like his profile pictures (which also said he was 26, not 46). He saunters my way, and I curse Photoshop under my breath. Reaching my side, he smiles knowingly and asks if my name is Brianna. Relief floods over me as I shake my head no and he slinks away.

8:30 p.m.: As if on cue, I notice a guy that actually does resemble Jason making his way through the crowd. I start to feel nervous all over again—my date is even cuter in person than he is on the page. I smile—deliberately this time—and, as he approaches, it’s clear that he recognizes my face, too. Floodgates are reopened and confidence is restored.

8:31 p.m.: Leaning in for what I intend to be a casual hug I inadvertently knock over my drink, sending a pool of bubbly down the front of my blouse. I. Am. Mortified.

8:35 p.m.: A handful of napkins and an awkward pat down later, we’re both sitting, this time my glass far from elbow’s reach. Talk about an introduction

9:00 p.m.: The night seems to be going well as conversation flows easily, but I can’t tell if it feels like cocktails with a friend, or cocktails with a date.

9:45 p.m.: As I suggest the check, reminding him that I have an early morning obligation, I can’t help but feel flattered when he nods, clearly disappointed.

9:55 p.m.: The ease of the past hour seems to slip away as I begin to worry about the impending end of the date farewell. However Jason handles it suavely, telling me how happy he is that we were matched. He kisses me on the cheek and says he’ll call me later.

10:55 p.m.: … Is it later yet?

Judging by the date with Jason, I’m on the verge of taking my vows as an online dating convert. However, I do have three other dates lined up before I jump to conclusions.

photo by chuck olsen

dating, first date, match.com, online dating, photoshop, santa monica Hide

Betty Heldreich Winstedt has had quite an accomplished life. She’s been an Olympic hopeful, a pilot, a competitive surfer and an adventurer that redefined gender norms. Now the 95-year-old can add poet to her list of accomplishments. She’s just completed a book of haikus (Japanese poetry) that documents her life.

“When you’ve lived to be my age, you do a lot things,” Heldreich Winstedt said. “I just love to do things that are daring. It’s amazing I lived to be 95.”

Born in 1913, the Utah native moved to California after graduating from high school. Her adventures quickly took flight when she got her pilot’s license at 23, after graduating from the University of Southern California Dental College.

“I crashed a glider at the airport [Los Angeles Municipal Airport],” Heldreich Winstedt said. “I didn’t get a chance to fly very much after that.” The accident left her with a broken leg, dashing her dreams of becoming an Olympic swimmer. She had been training with the L.A. Athletic Club.

After the crash, Heldreich Winstedt continued to work in the dental hygiene field in California. She married jeweler Ronald Heldreich in 1937 and had two daughters, Vicky and Gloria. A trip to Hawaii in the 50s sparked Heldreich Winstedt’s love of surfing. Soon the family of three relocated from Chino, Calif. to the island of Oahu in Hawaii. In her 40s, Betty learned to ride a longboard at Waikiki beach, where waves are small enough for fledging surfers.

“I surfed in the 50s and 60s. There weren’t too many women.” Heldreich Winstedt continued, “I just learned from the fellas. I was 43 then and I was kind of wild.”

In her first stint as a competitive surfer, Heldreich Winstedt came in second place at the International Surfing Championships at Makaha. Makaha is situated on the west side of Oahu where waves range anywhere from 2 to 30 feet, according to the Surfer’s Guide to Hawaii. She was then invited to compete in an international surfing competition in Peru.

“Women didn’t surf. Women didn’t even wear pants. It sounds like such a strange concept now,” said Vicky Durand, the eldest of Heldreich Winstedt’s two daughters.

Surrounded by surfing legends such as Fred Van Dyke and Buzzy Trent, Heldreich Winstedt’s eldest daughter soon dove into the sport as well. Durand, then 17, won first place in the International Surfing Championships at Makaha, Hawaii.

After taking first place, Durand and her mother went to Lima, Peru. The duo competed in the international surf competition at a time when women were typically absent from the sport.

“Mother told me to keep notes. She said this is going to be big,” Durand said. “It wasn’t until later that I realized how special her life was.”

Durand did not take notes, but she called on those memories when she penned a short biography of her mother in Betty’s Haikus. Durand’s contribution is a portion of the book, which is filled with poetry by Heldreich Winstedt. The book will be available for purchase at Hawaiianwearableart.com.

“She’s a true matriarchal figure around here.” Durand continued, “She’s just a wonderful person.”

She has four grandchildren and eight great grandchildren. The 95-year-old stills swims, makes pottery, writes poetry and drinks daily cocktails. Battling macular degeneration, Heldreich Winstedt is now legally blind. Although she cannot see the ocean as clearly as before, she knows the beach is near when she hears the crashing of the waves and smells the ocean spray from her beachfront property.

“I dream about surfing… I can walk to the front gate and know the water is there.” Heldreich Winstedt added, “I’ve had a good life. It’s part of my past now.”

photo by clarence maki shows Betty Heldreich Winsted at 40 in 1956 at Makaha in Hawaii

betty heldreich winstedt, haikus, hawaii, iconoclasts, international surfing championships, pilot, sports, surfing, swimming Hide

beauty, bellist, body fat, body image, figure, food, health, i am that girl, that girl says Hide

We all come in different shapes and sizes. I’m tall, blonde and never had to work hard to stay thin, while my short, brunette sister has always had to exercise and watch what she eats. Some of us love our butts, our boobs, our hips — while the rest hate those very same areas.

I see taking my friends and family members shopping as a challenge to find something that fits their unique body perfectly. Perhaps it’s a gift, or perhaps I’ve just watched too many episodes of What Not to Wear. Whatever the reason, I love showing women how to embrace their bodies and witness them light up with self confidence when they realize you can look beguiling in clothes as long as you make the right choices.

Here are my best tips on how to showcase your body and look flattering in your clothes:

Feature Presentation.
The first step to looking good in your clothes is to pick out your best feature and put it front and center. Love your cute butt? Draw attention to it by wearing a great pair of fitted jeans (just make sure there’s still room to comfortably sit). Fond of your décolletage? Flaunt it by sporting a V-neck top.

Don’t Go Baggy.
Your first inclination may be to cover up flaws with baggy clothes, but big shapes only make you look bigger. So pick clothes tight enough to show your figure, but loose enough to still be comfortable and cover problem areas.

Find Body Balance.
The rules of proportion are extremely important when choosing your outfit. Try and balance out your upper and lower half. If you’re big-busted, wear an A-line skirt to give your bottom half a little volume and pair it with a fitted top. Larger in the hips? Slip on fitted jeans with a flowing, voluminous top that hits right at the hip-line.

Camouflage.
It’s true — black can make your body appear slimmer. In fact, all dark colors tend to minimize, while bright colors highlight. So if you’re trying to cover a big bottom, don’t step out in white pants. Instead opt for dark jeans or black slacks. Don’t forget patterns – they can be your best friend or your worst enemy. If you’re short, a patterned top can draw the eye upwards and make you appear taller, and a patterned skirt can actually add curves to a boyish figure.

Go A-line.
The A-line shape works well for pretty much any body type (especially pear-shaped), so it’s a foolproof choice. If you’re out shopping and at a loss, look for a knee-length A-line skirt or dress (fitted at the hips and looser through the thighs).

Any body can look like a good body. Instead of cursing your big thighs or pear shape, learn to embrace your body with the clothes you choose. What you wear on the outside is a direct reflection of how you feel on the inside, so show everyone you’re proud of those curves with each outfit you choose!

body image, fashion, shape, style, what not to wear Hide

I just flew home to L.A. from Minnesota, a living art museum of the arctic freeze that most likely took the dinosaurs out. For the record, it was six degrees when I arrived. Being a girl from Texas, and having lived most of my adult life in La La Land, which respectfully stays between about 72 and 80 year round, it was a fright-fest to be in Minnesota’s simply inhumane treatment to my nose, ears and gloveless fingers.

Worse is the fact that in order to avoid the Snow King’s evil clenches, I would literally run from one indoor facility to another, unapologetically girly. While I tend to have pride in this arena, that was not the case here. And yet, the crazy thing was how unaffected people were around me as though this were normal (which obviously for them, it is). Either way, it was not the welcoming sun, palm trees and glistening ocean that won my heart in Minnesota; it was my big brother.

It’s amazing what we do for the ones we love, the sacrifices we make and the stretching of our sanity we undergo to prove to a person how much they mean to us. My flying in the dead of winter to a state technically colder than the chocolate popsicles in my fridge could not express more my devotion to my brother – because Lord knows I appreciate my daily sundresses, the myriad of flip flop options that await me each morning, and sleeping with my windows open 365 days out of the year.

However, when I’m with my brother, or my family for that matter, I could be in a closet and enjoy myself. In short, he made up for sending me home with frostbit appendages. We had pizza at his favorite joint, a late night binge-fest of Pringles, cookies, ice cream, and Reese’s as we giggled ourselves to sleep watching our favorite show, The Office. He took me to a “planetarium” (a conservatory of every plant life known to man), had coffee at his local hang out, Coffee Bene, grabbed a a delicious bite at Longfellow Grill, walked around a snow covered park, and watched the Oscars at his (gorgeous) best friend’s house – which, for the record, I think the curse of the baby sister is that you will always and forever have crushes on your older brother’s friends, something I’ve come to accept. We saw the Falls, ate breakfast at a quaint little joint and, before I knew it, I was on a plane heading home to sunny California.

Needless to say, my trip was too short and while I have no desire to go back until the break-my-ankle-ice-patches melt, I am ecstatic for my May visit. In the meantime, my brother is taking advantage of my vacant Los Angeles apartment for two weeks in March – something about 80 degree weather, the cloudless, blue sky and the endless Santa Monica beach only a fifteen minute drive away has solidified his spring break plans.

Until his graduation, I’ll have to resort to emails, facebooking and late night phone calls to hold me over until I see him again. I love you, Jonesy!

big brother, family, little sister, minnesota, snow, spring break, travel, weather Hide