The particular terror of makeup

Don’t worry, there’ll be a post on how awesome my new apartment is and what I’ve sewn for it.  But I owe somebody a story, and surprisingly I haven’t written this out before, so here we go. I like makeup. It’s costuming for the face. When I was little I loved playing with the disco-era palettes of my mom’s eyeshadow, tiny trial-size lipsticks, bright paints in tiny containers. It was costume, the finishing touch of playing pretend. In middle school I was told I should start wearing makeup—foundation, coverup, that…

A New Year

One thing I can acknowledge, despite the persistent strands of self-doubt I am slowly cutting away: I can teach myself any art or craft technique and make something halfway decent with it if I want to. I’m not going to be a genius at it, necessarily, but I can do it. Even back when I was just a painter I was interested in the process, which is most likely why I didn’t stay just a painter for long—and I was doing film photography, emphasis on darkroom work, and theatre and…

So much

After the total concert cockblock, we ended up going to Scissor Sisters the next week. It was an amazing show (I did a nail for it) and it answered the question that’s been in the back of my mind for ages, “Would I like clubbing?” Answer: YES. They made us work for the encore, came out with a costume change and right at the climax of the last song the ceiling exploded confetti and it was essentially magic. Drifting down, among the little tissue paper and mylar bits, were three…