Wearable Arts afterparty

So blagged an invite to the wearable arts afterparty. Well, I did help two of the stilters for about five minutes, so I reckon that makes me crew.

Fancy do, normally if there’s that many women taller than me at a party, its coz they’re trannies. Instead, models. I just wanted walk up to one of the six foot tall, emaciated women wearing flimsy dresses and say “so, what do you do for a living?” Or just walk up to one carying a big plate of food and say “hi, we earthpeople thought you should have this.”

But hey, free drink and food. And its not often you see Shed 6 looking all done up. We left after the speeches and before the band.

Me, now:

4 thoughts on “Wearable Arts afterparty

  1. I was in a fashion show once where we were all supposed to go on three times, but after the first time I got a mother of a nosebleed. I was backstage in my knickers covered in blood with people running around with blood-covered tissues/toilet paper and chaos because none of the models knew who to go on with and what to wear because one person out of the order f***ed everything up – rather levelling for all those involved.

    Actually talking to models is also rather levelling. They may look cooler than thou but it doesn’t last long once they try to hold down a conversation. Generally speaking.

    1. The place was fully of stereotypically beautiful people, as opposed to the gorgeouise that you’d get being seen on Cuba Street. If you liked people as wallpaper, then you’d have loved it. Its not really me, I don’t like treating people as if they were paintings, nor people who benefit from being treated that way.

      At least dancers, smart or dumb, have to work hard at it, and hence have something to talk about, rather than existing solely to be letched at.

      And models have no arm muscles! Maybe I’m spending too much time with aerialists, but I’ve become used to women having biceps.

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