“You’re so wierd,” kids used to tell me.
To which I would quickly respond, “And you’re so ‘normal'” with emphasis on “normal” like there was nothing worse than the state of normalcy. But they never took that as an insult. I guess nobody wants to be weird.
This morning I found yet another gem in the heart of West Hollywood in full face paint with a severe part and a vinyl dominatrix inspired coat that begged to be reckoned. I freakin’ loved the choker, the delicate details of her red beaded ring while she clutched a black cane and she was rocking these black velvet slacks that looked comfortable, but also positioned her as a kicky, hip-to-the-trip type of bitch. Love, love, LOVE!!!
I could not help myself. I HAD to take a picture. I busted out my phone so fast and positioned it in such a way that it looked like I was texting. I clicked away, trying to get the right shot. She looked right at me, so of course I snapped. That’s when I noticed the flash reflecting from the glass behind her. The flash on my phone WAS ON!!! I. Could. DIE!!!
I thought she was going to cuss me out. I thought she was going to lunge for my phone and rip it out of my hand to delete the photos. I figured she would at least whack me upside the head with her cane. But, nope. She kept her cool. She looked to the right and then to the left as if to make sure I got it. ALL OF IT!!! I can’t possibly be the first person to sneak a picture of this woman.
She goes by the name of Cleopatra. That’s all I know.
She’s different. And she made me happy.