When I last saw Nonna Isabella in Italy, she had a flowing white beard.
The long, puffed-up strands enveloping Nonna’s cheeks had regrown with a vengeance since 1969 when my mother fought with Dad for permission to give Nonna a gift, an American depilatory cream called Nair that she wanted to smear upon my grandmother’s wrinkly, hirsute countenance. Piercing white hairs jutted outward from Nonna’s martial, creased face like crooked spears, lancing the marauding opponent, Mom, the invader from the other side of the Atlantic.
My mom did not prevail in the facial hair battle.
Nonna’s spears won the hair wars.
Lovely story.
Thank you!
Nair works but if you love hair?… Go natural. Interesting and a muse. Thanks!
Really captures the strong personality. Nonna, you rock. Your granddaughter really can paint a portrait.
I could do that.
A portrait might be an interesting project.
She was an “old world” toughie.
Free-flowing and free-growing au natural. Be you, do you Nonna!
Thank you for your kind remarks, everyone!