There's a type of lipstick that I wear from time to time
that feels thick in a good way. My lips are already full, and, when I
wear this particular lipstick, my lips feel borderline obscene.I'm okay with that.
Today is one of those days that I don it.
(pause)
I've started reading The Phantom of the Opera.
In high school, every long haired theater boy (the few straight ones- the ones with long hair, scabs on their elbows, and the perpetual but faint shadow of a mustache) wore a Phantom of the Opera shirt. Admittedly and regrettably, this may have been why I avoided having anything to do with it.
Recently, however, I have been doing research into various types of masks and their histories. Not surprisingly, the famous mask of Erik from Phantom keeps coming up.
Three chapters into it, I can't believe I waited so long to read it. Ballet, a ghost, a theater, a mystery, and notes written in an almost indecipherable scrawl of red ink: All of the elements necessary for me to fall in love.
Some of the descriptions leave me faint but excited in their detail. One young ballerina is described as having a tip-tilted nose. Incredible. The allure of all the happens behind the theater curtain prevails:
Raoul had to stop before the inrush of the little troop of ballet-girls who blocked the passage which he was trying to enter. More than one chaffing phrase darted from little made-up lips, to which he did not reply...
Yes, please.
It may be summertime, but even nights lined with abandoned iced tea glasses and their wilted lemons are due their fair share of French haute hauntings and dramatic divas.
Be well; be loved,
k.
(image: Hollis Johnson via untrustyou tumblr)
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