Charlotte Tilbury describes the look at L.A.M.B. as, “The feeling was 1930s prostitute–trampy, smoky eye, deep “rougeoir” lips and beautiful pale skin.”

You know, it’s not often that ‘prostitute’ is openly admitted to being an inspiration. Gee, the clothes are nice, but you know what would tie everything together? Just a smidge of whore. Not 1990s Julia Roberts Hooker With A Heart Of Gold whore, but a more classy sort of starving rabid raccoon whore. Perhaps we could have them walk to ‘Money (That’s What I Want)’, too? Or is that too whorish? One thing’s for sure–we need overdrawn red lips or we risk our models with deeper eye sockets looking like Skeletor.

So let’s see it in action–

WHOA. WHOA.

I know the look you are going for, and it is NOT 1930s prostitute. It is 1975 transvestite.

I just…wow. Wow. I suppose if they wanted the clothes to look beautiful by comparison to the jacked-up things they’ve done to the models–horrifyingly unflattering makeup, frizzy hair…THOSE BANGS, then jolly good show, L.A.M.B.. The problem is we can’t not look at a trainwreck. I look at that picture and I don’t even see the clothes.

Lack of forethought can give people trouble in a number of ways–it can result in bad marriages, giving birth to Satan’s child, car accidents–any number of untold troubles. In my case, lack of forethought resulted in me desperately scrubbing my face until my skin ached bemoaning that I would NEVER get rid of ALL of this glitter before my next engagement.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

On Saturday, a group of becostumed folk met at Gasworks Park to have a picnic in honor of daemonwolf‘s birthday and also because we won’t be seeing her for a couple of months as she’s following her dreams, taking a work sabbatical and journeying south to take an intensive class in a subject she’s interested in. In other words, she is brave and awesome and we’ll miss her.

I had fully intended to put together some manner of costume for this get together. You know what they say about intentions and laziness or intentions and four Stoli Around-The-Worlds the night before? What, they don’t have a saying about that? Plans go awry. MY plans went awry. I overslept by hours. HOURS. And then in desperation grabbed at makeup and furiously went to town while still half-asleep.

This is how I ended up with a makeup mask that looked like Cher, The Crow, and Gene Simmons had a glitterbaby.

When I left the apartment, I made sure to bring some bottled water, a washcloth, and some baby shampoo as I knew I would need to wash everything off before I left daemonwolf‘s party to attend mxpwr‘s birthday or face merciless mockery. I tried to plan. I did!

At one point, someone suggested a round of Ninja vs Luchador Twister, which was ultimately refused, and I may never get over my disappointment.

ravenmimura found a broken wolf sculpture in a thrift store and using his amazing art powers, transformed it into a zombie wolf sculpture with glowing eyes and exposed ribs and entrails. I’m sad I didn’t get a closer photograph of it–it was really impressive!

Latex is the devil.

At some point, adding to the whole surreal feel of the day, the group attracted people dressed in fursuits.

Sometime around five, I needed to leave to head to the Elephant & Castle for Chad’s birthday party. I pulled out my face-cleansing supplies and had more than a moment of horror when I realized that the base I used to stick the glitter to my face wasn’t washing off, it was just smearing around. Anyone walking or driving by my parked car at the moment would have witnessed a freakout session of nuclear proportions. As luck would have it, not one, but three ducks drove by so entire boatloads of quacking tourists saw me flailing and clawing at my face. Because the soap & water didn’t want to cut through the base, I ended up using the washcloth dry and scrubbing the makeup off that way, but every time I thought I’d gotten it all, I’d look in the light and realize I was still coated in glitter. My washcloth was so filthy by this point that it would have only served to deposit MORE glitter on my face. In desperation, I ended up popping my trunk and using shit I should’ve moved into my apartment months ago to scrape at my face some more. Finally ALMOST presentable, I then spilled water all over myself and my front seat and my steering wheel, because I can’t go anywhere without looking like perhaps I might have wet my pants.

I FINALLY made it to the Elephant & Castle, had a drink, and eventually stopped feeling self-conscious about my bright pink face. After dinner, we were all split into six teams for trivia: Team Winner Winner Chicken Dinner, Team Awesome, Team Ramrod, Team Ultimate Badasses, Team Sweet Fuckin’ Zona, and Team Six on the Beach. Clearly, the team I was on and named were the Ultimate Badasses.

Trivia was divided into a few different categories–Wild Card, Music, TV & Movies, Travel, The Simpsons, and Sports. After the first three rounds, Team Ultimate Badasses were in dead last. I don’t think I knew ONE correct answer. It was around this time that a few people needed to leave, and Team Ultimate Badasses ended up being retired with the remaining members split among the other groups to handicap them. Little did they know when I was placed on team Winner Winner Chicken Dinner that Simpsons trivia is where I’m a viking, and I redeemed myself by knowing every answer in that category. With that and the rest of the team’s combined sports knowledge, we swept the final two rounds and took first place! Team Ultimate Badasses may have bitten the dust, but the important thing is that I went home with prizes because I am the sorest loser ever.

Ever.

And I STILL have glitter on my face.