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Showing posts from April, 2014

The Man with the Teddybear Eyes

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Alfie

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Coming Down Aisy

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Coming Down Aisy
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I blew in the door looking like I just woke up from a field circa 1974.
My tangled hair is standing on end like I may have crawled through a hedge to get out of abovementioned field, as although I have been showering daily, I have not brushed it.
It's my Patti Smith look, apparently.
Also I am wearing enough eye make up to take to the stage in the West End as Cleopatra, which I re-apply with shaking hands at every, and all opportunities -
mirrors of parked cars
mirrors outside the gents
tiny lip gloss contacts.
Why am I so bothered about my eyes?
What is with the layers of liner and lashes?
"You're looking very windswept tonight" says Eddie as I slide my black coat off and onto a stool, in a seamless move I am no stranger to.
In the preparation for Shellshock I was flat out batshit.
I micro managed every last detail and was informed sagely by an advisor the next day that it is possibly not a great…
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