It was long overdue for me to visit a Freakout event, and honestly, I couldn't tell you why it's taken me so long.
I mean, I'm a freak. I've made no secret of that. I've come out to you, confessed to all sorts of things, shared details about my personal life that most people would probably take to their graves, and somehow you still love me. Which is wonderful, really. No shame, no denial, no need to pretend I'm something I'm not.
So perhaps it's just been a scheduling issue. Too many parties, too many invitations, too many people demanding my presence. You know how it is when you're me, but when I saw that Freakout was doing something glamorous, I knew this was my cue.
Naturally, I ran into plenty of familiar faces. Some of you I hadn't spoken to in some time, which meant there was quite a bit of catching up to do. News to exchange, gossip to collect, compliments to receive.
The usual.
But I also had work to do. You see, I know how important it is to look good. I've spent years enjoying the benefits of being beautiful. Doors open that remain firmly closed to others. People suddenly become so very accommodating. Invitations appear, privileges are granted, and men, women and everyone in between seem to develop an overwhelming desire to throw themselves at my feet. It's extraordinary.
And I absolutely love it.
So I feel it's only fair to share some of that beauty with you. Not mine, obviously. You already have access to that, and I'm not sure the world could cope with any more. No, I'm talking about all of you and that's why I carry my camera around. Why I spend so much time photographing people, finding the right angles, working with the light and trying to capture what makes someone look absolutely fabulous.
And recently, I've had a little help.
You may have noticed that my photographs have changed somewhat over the past week or so. Or perhaps you haven't. I know some of you are terribly distracted by the people in them. But I've started using a new camera, and darling, it's something else.
It does things for me that used to take an enormous amount of time. It seems to understand what I want before I've even figured out how to ask for it. The results can be spectacular, and I've found myself falling rather deeply in love with the thing.
But there's a problem.
I think it's haunted, possibly cursed. You see, every now and then, when I look through the lens, I see things. Terrible things. Creatures that seem to have escaped from some particularly unfortunate medical experiment. Bald heads, enormous noses, faces that have somehow migrated to the backs of their skulls, and features arranged in ways that suggest the person responsible for assembling them had never actually seen a human being.
Zombies, perhaps? I don't know what else to call them, but they're absolutely horrifying and it's deeply unsettling. Now, I'm a big girl. I've seen things that would make most people reconsider their relationship with humanity, and I pride myself on maintaining my composure.
Public image is everything, darling.
No matter what's happening behind the scenes, you smile, you look fabulous, and you never let anyone see you struggle. So if you saw me at Freakout and wondered why I wasn't particularly talkative, please don't take it personally. I was probably buried in my camera settings, or I may simply have decided it was safer not to look at you.
Nothing personal, you understand.
I just need to sleep at night.
Fortunately, despite the occasional glimpse into what I can only describe as an alternate dimension of unspeakable ugliness, I did manage to capture some rather lovely photographs.
And that's what you're here for, isn't it?
Beautiful people, fabulous outfits, a very nice gathering and a little evidence that glamour is still very much alive. Enjoy the photographs, darlings. And if you happen to notice me staring at you rather strangely next time we meet, don't worry.
I'm probably just checking which side of your head your face is on. 💋
Click them for a larger resolution and save.
This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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