Word: wand
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...struggling within seconds. Her Border collie lunges at a trio of sheep, sending them skittering in panic. "Down, Tess," she yells, to little effect. The guru takes her elbow. "We'll try to dispense with some of that energy," he says. Within 10 minutes, aided by a flexible wand and a set of arcane commands--Come bye, Away to me, Take time--he has woven girl, collie and ewes into a graceful choreography of pursuit and capture. The next time Katie calls "Down," Tess prostrates herself smartly. "Look at that," the guru exclaims. "I thought you said that dog didn...
...analyst at Fector, Detwiler & Co. Ads tout the latest in laser treatments with impossible results: "Made Me Look 20 Years Younger in Just Days!" or "Laser Hair Removal: 5 Year Guarantee!" "No one wants to undergo the knife, so they look at the laser as some sort of magic wand," says Joan Kron, 71, author of Lift: Wanting, Fearing and Having a Facelift, her 1998 primer on facial surgery. "It's a very exciting field. But it's a double-edged 'light' sword, because there's a lot of bamboozling out there...
...make sure nobody could tell, the new wave grows out of a peacock-like desire to make sure everyone within a 10-mile radius notices. Chris Landry, 25, sits on a chair at Urban Renewal in Denver while Yvonne tips his platinum hair blue with a mascara wand. Landry, who has had his hair tipped for 14 years and may in fact be in a fashion rut, is here after making a mess with store-bought blue dye. "Yvonne told me she could fix this," he says, "and I was pretty much, 'Whatever.'" Stylists say dyeing men's hair...
...Camera One, he or she is in reality at the mercy of the script that is scrolling, thanks to magical mirror effects, through the lens of the camera. The administrator of these words at the X Games was none other than yours truly, entrusted with a surprisingly phallic-sized wand, the head of which I turned to move the script through the viewing screen...
Saint Etienne are beautiful. Repeatedly, consistently and achingly beautiful. After brandishing a decidedly pop wand in last year's Good Humor, Pristine chanteuse Sarah Cracknell, understated pop priestess in the vein of Diana Ross, returns with gifted nerd musicians Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs to make more of that astro-optimistic music for waxing reminiscent over good old days that never were. Here, acutely-attuned sophistication unfurls in a lazy crawl over barely-populated audio-maps of restrained infectiousness. It is an enchanting but ultimately deserted place they take you, inhabited only by a gaseous voice. This is music...