Holly and I are kittening at the Vermont Burlesque Festival in T minus two days. Eep! We get red carpet photos and invitations to the performers’ brunch, which makes me die a little – I get to munch waffles and mimosas with real live performers? People who do this for a living, not a lark? I can’t wait.
The kittens’ colors are navy, purple, gold, and orange. I’m more than a little frustrated that I can’t default to red polka dots, but I do appreciate the opportunity to branch out. Here’s a preview of my Thursday night costume: moon goddess.
The bad news is I’ve become a slug, capable mostly of shivering in bed, designing elaborate future tattoos, and eating tortellini. The good news is listlessness breeds inspiration. If you need a little slice of summer to drag you through the last of the hibernation, then ya need a little slice of summer. And nothing channels summer better than the rockabilly beach queen we all deserve to be.
Come March 15th, I’ll have a brand-new tattoo on my right shoulder blade. The appointment’s been booked and the down payment made. Soon comes round three of my endeavor to ink every inch of my skin.
Oh, you thought I was going to tell you what it was? That’s cute. You can wait like goddamn everyone else.
Saturday’s shoot with Brent satisfied a few of the aesthetics I’ve been wanting to realize for a while. In the span of a couple hours, we cycled through several distinct iterations of my artistic vision. From pinup to madonna to wizened thaumaturge, I got to be all my favorite versions of myself. So I’ll be posting the photos in parts, each corresponding to a different theme. In these shots, I’m paying tribute to my girls Bettie, Dita, and Joan. For extra-retro seduction, I’m wearing a blouse hand-sewn by my great-grandmother.