August 19, 2012

Ideas of perfection...


As of late, I have been asked quite frequently why I no longer don my once signature suicide roll.  And that is a perfectly reasonable question with reasonable answers.  Yes, answers, because I never do anything without ample justification.  And by that I mean I do things and then rationalize them later.

The suicide roll began a few months after I moved to New York.  I was wrapped up in that grand, false idea that I needed to look absolutely perfect if I was going anywhere below 125th st (which I know some people will laugh at, but I came from a place where people wear crocs as business-casual, so even Harlem looked like a concrete runway that deserved at least an hour and a half’s worth of grooming).  

I’ve always struggled with what to do with my hair, and it’s an ongoing thesis.  I fawned over the impeccable victory rolls of pin-up goddesses to the point of neurosis, and I eventually (*ahem* accidentally) formed the upper third of my hair into a shape not unlike hurricane Irene (who happened to be banging on my window at the time), moving north-west across my forehead at 27 MPH.


Somehow, though, even after executing my perfect hairdo and perfect eyebrows and perfect contouring and perfect outfit proportions of short-dress-long-jacket-tall-shoes, I always felt exceedingly... imperfect.  Sometimes it was because an inch-long nose hair was waving at me in the mirror - but mostly it was just the fact that perfection is as easy to find as my sex life (which is a unicorn - magical, horny, and entirely fictional).  Nothing, but something, was off.

It’s only when I found myself so late for work, doing nada to my hair, wrapping my head in underwear and leaving my face bare for painting on the train, that I actually liked what I saw in the mirror.  There needs to be a little bird-nest factor to the hair, or a rip or two in the tights, or scruffiness on the shoes - it’s the only way to realize that taking anything too seriously is like trying to make poached eggs - you’re a fucking moron.


5 comments:

  1. I have lived in NYC my whole life.. well one of the five boroughs, but Manhattan was always a hop skip and a jump away, and I still feel the need to always look my best. I love dressing up, adore it. But I have realized that being perfect in the city is not too hard. It is a place where everyone is free to express themselves, and you can choose to do the same and look awesome !

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  2. Penny!! <3<3 I will CERTAINLY always play dress up on a day-to-day basis - there is no question! It's really more a case of not trying so hard, because for a long time I would try really, really fucking hard. These days I'd rather spend my time being more creative and working on projects than spending hours getting ready for the day. No worries... my face will certainly still be beat and my eyebrows surely groomed. :)

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  3. I have always wondered how the pretty ones lived...the perfect ones. What must it be like to feel "desired"? I understand trying really really hard to project some sort of image. As time passed by, that image changed so many times...far, far away from wearing nothing but scarves and a tambourine dancing hard to "Monkey Man" (Mick would have been so proud) as the masses looked on.My aged photos scream every color, cut, weight, style known to mankind and some never seen before or since. Not sure now what all that was for, but you can pat yourself on the back for being so aware SO YOUNG! You do have those beautiful eyes to carry you through when you are not up to "adorning" the rest~~

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  4. Congratulations, your journey to New York has not been in vain. You have truly taken a walk on the wild side and come out the other side as a real New Yorker.

    It is this personal and fashion epiphany that separates us from most of the country. It makes us John Lennons, Lou Reeds and Patti Smiths. To bare yourself through the lens of Robert Mapplethorpe or Bob Gruen, to live in black and white - this is the true New York. This is the stuff of legend, this is the stuff of truth.

    Color and costume might be your true love but your inner freak flag burns most brightly in monochrome.

    Rock on you, New York Doll. We love you.

    Dylan A. Kent
    New York City

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  5. Thank you for such a well thought out and articulated answer to a question that has been on my mind. I am glad you were able to discover perfection in your "imperfection" - I put that in quotations as I am certain several people would find a sort of peace and perfection in your perceived imperfection. I am stealing your sex life quote for future use - full credit given to you.

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Speak your mind! *muah*