Too tired to think of a title, eyelids closing in 3, 2,…

Hair and makeup today involved a lion’s mane of crimp-fried backcombings, smooshed into a mushroom and christened with hairspray. So many volatile organic compounds descended on my cranium that, by my last exit, the hairstylist was happy to just poke and nudge my crowning glory into position with the long end of a comb. It didn’t budge.

Not that it isn’t possible to find one’s zen backstage.

Tips for dealing with multiple-hour beautifying sessions of the beauty-is-pain aesthetic praxis? Models got ‘em. We: Read On Beauty. Keep our earbuds discreetly in. Do yoga breathing. Read and highlight On Liberty. Sip Red Bull through straws. Peruse study guides for tomorrow’s Year 12 mock exams. Wonder aloud why someone asks if we want a Red Bull every two minutes but nobody seems to have any food. Such is life when it is your fate to get up close and personal with a very nice person whose job happens to be to inflict discomfort on your sensitive parts for as long as it takes.

Lookee here, someone named Getty took my picture during the runway run-through:

And then again during the real thing.

(Images Zimbio/Getty)

I bit the dust in these shoes. The 6.5″ platform pencil-point stillettoes did me in; Thank god it wasn’t during the first showing of this collection, which was the big media to-do, but during the second, which was only for buyers. (Though I’m sure tomorrow or this weekend when I feel like a spot of ego-mortification, I’ll be able to dig some pictures up — I heard definite cooings of excitement from the photographers’ pit when I found myself suddenly kneecapped after coming off the turn.) Another model tumbled in the same t-straps during the buyers’ show; I’m relieved it wasn’t worse for either of us. I didn’t roll an ankle, didn’t tear the dress, didn’t break the strap and have to hobble dejectedly back down the long gangplank, didn’t take anyone else out with me. I’ve bruised worse at concerts. If this is my fall, I can suck it up and see a bright side.

It is now 1:03 a.m. Took an hour of concerted combing, two ear-splitting hair-cuticle-screeching rubber-band removals, and one half-cup of conditioner to undo the ‘do. But the long shower was kind of blissful.

That’s all for tonight, folks. This model hit up no after parties: This model tired. Model no table-dance and Moet-drink. Model need sleep of beauty. Model enjoy friend’s couch very much. Model enjoy lateish 10 a.m. call time very, very much.

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4 responses to “Too tired to think of a title, eyelids closing in 3, 2,…

  1. Whatcha crocheting now, you crotchety old lady? I’m thinking of reinstating crafternoons, now that I live half a block from the new knitting store. T is for Trouble.

  2. I’m knitting! Still can’t crochet worth a whit. I’m making a black wool scarf out of fingering yarn and super big needles, sort of based on this pattern:

    http://knitty.com/ISSUEfall04/PATTclapotis.html

    There’s a new knitting store in IC? How times change. And you need to get your arse into gear on Crafternoon, Phoebs. I’m relying on you.

  3. so you finished the leggings?
    x

  4. Not quite yet! I had to take a break from knitting them backstage because I wasn’t able to concentrate. Since I was doing the knit-flat-to-make-a-tube thing where you knit one, slip one, knit one, slip one — then turn, go back the other way, knitting the stitches you slipped on the way there, and slipping the knitted ones. So long as you always make sure your knits and slips stay consistent from row to row across the piece, when you take it off the needles, the flat piece of knitting springs into a perfect tube as if by magic.

    But I got home from that show and found I’d switch-knitted like five stitches over the course of my ten or so completed rows, meaning I had a tube with five points where its walls were stuck together by a misplaced stitch, and undoing each one involves massively annoying dropping and re-hooking of stitches to get the tube to be tubey again. Evidently I can’t be relied upon to count stitches accurately when I’m forever abandoning in the middle of a row to do the next stage of the gig’s desired beautification. A scarf with a simple repeat is much more suited to that environment.

    So finishing the tights will happen during a future spate of long evenings with many cups of tea and a few good podcasts.

    How is Sydney? Departure date for London yet?

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