On Sunday night, Angie and I had our first shot as official makeup artistes for Glasgow’s Insane Championship Wrestling. It took place in the ABC…
… and the show was sold out.
We didn’t end up doing that much makeup to be honest (hopefully for future shows, once people realise that’s what we’re there to do, we will be put to work a bit more), and as you well know, flogstars… the devil makes work for idle hands.
Which means we had plenty of time to gawp at lots of fit, oiled-up bodies and take billions of selfies.
We arrived around 4pm and had a bit of time to kill while everything was set up. So we sniffed around. Access All Areas means precisely that.
the only thing stopping me from trying the belt on was the fear that I would be thrown in the ring if I did
We saw lots of stretching, massaging, greasing-up and rehearsing…
There were lots of opportunities to meet-and-greet…
flanked by Leah Owens and Carmel Jacob. Grr!
Michelle McManus and me. My tooth isn’t actually missing, it’s just a shadow.
… and even more time for crazy japes.
As the venue filled up, it was time for the performers to get in the zone. This involves a lot of pacing, pumping up of muscles by dropping suddenly to the ground and doing really fast push-ups, and muttering while mentally rehearsing signature moves. Last-minute application of extra oil is optional.
… And then, it’s SHOWTIME!
It’s not pretty, but it is spectacular. Already counting the seconds til the next one at the end of April. Giddy up!
I didn’t give a damn about Pinterest until WordPress (hosts of this here flog) told me that if you’re blogging – or in my case, flogging – about subject matter with a highly visual element, such as makeup… then Pinterest is potentially one of your biggest referrers.
That means if I have pretty pictures of my makeup work on Pinterest, and people click on them… they’ll land right here. More site traffic = faster track to world domination. So now you can have a wee squizz at my finished works all in one place, if you so fancy. Quicker for when you’re telling someone about how brilliant I am, for example.
Pinterest, for those who don’t know, is an online pinboard where you can store and share pictures and ideas. Think… mood-boards for weddings, home decoration ideas…
does the carpet match the curtains?
…recipes, crafts, architecture, nail art, tattoos, photography… you get the gist.
I started an account a while ago with the thought that it would come in handy for college somehow, but only really started using it the last week or two. I just didn’t really get it before, but it’s fun and there’s loads of cool shit on there.
You can have as many pinboards on the go as you like, and I’m finding it handy for organising the pics/ideas that I use for inspiration in my makeup world. Plus, it’s yet another medium through which to obsess about David Bowie.
You are just perfection.
Speaking of inspiration. My own creative river hasn’t been flowing for a while now and I’m starting to get worried.
Makeup Is Art by Jana Ririnui and Lan Nguyen
I just bought this book on Amazon to try and rectify the situation. Do any of you out there have a favourite art/design/makeup book that you refer to during ideas-droughts? Let me know!
And so to bed. Tomorrow brings with it my first photo shoot of this year, and I’ve got brushes to clean!
Here’s Mick and the boys twerking in sailor suits to send you off to the land of nod. Sweet dreams, flogstars XX
I’m alive and well, flogstars – I’ve just been a lazy bastard. A busy one actually, and over a week has passed without a post because I’ve been flat out like a lizard drinking (apologies, just getting my Australian lingo back up to scratch for the imminent visit home).
Here’s a quick recap of … some things I did.
Flog devotees (hey, you) will remember how hard I had made Chloe slave in the lead-up to the body painting assessment. The day came and I was as prepared as I could be. I’d burnt though nearly a whole cake each of orange, black and white Snazaroo paints in the practice sessions. Chloe’s torso was practically raw from having stripes scraped onto it with my cheap shitty brushes.
Doing the design plan right before I started the painting. Yes, that’s a toothbrush in my mouth. Imogen Maxwell: Eleventh Hour Calm is what I shall call my first autobiography.
And it came together pretty well. I had pulled together some good accessories – the black claw-nails, white fluffy eyebrows that I’d originally procured to use on Agi for the doomed oompa-loompa wig assessment, tiger ears headband, vampire fangs that wouldn’t bloody well stay in so I ended up Blu-Tac’ing them to Chloe’s incisors.
It’s really hard to get a wide shot in the bodypainting studio without there being like a MILLION boobs in the background.
All in all pretty happy with how it came up, and I passed, which is all that really matters.
That same day, Chloe stayed for the afternoon to be my model for Asian bridal makeup. Heehee.
International heartbreakers
In non-makeup but Chloe-related news, it was her birthday this week so I made a tiramisu…
… and we went out for drinks with Loz.
That’s all for today, my beloved flogstars. I’ve got a bit to catch you up on so will post again soon. And I’m thinking of completely changing up the format of the flog, so strap yourselves in.
And now, to bed… here’s Darren Hanlon with a lullaby to send you soundly to the land of nod.
I don’t actually WANT to kill any of my classmates, but I’m going to have to.
They’re too talented, and I just don’t need that kind of competition.
This week we began Asian bridal in basic makeup, and continued practicing bodypainting for next week’s assessment.
My tiger is coming together OK; I was right, getting organised has helped confidence levels considerably. Today (Tits-Oot Tuesday) I practiced twice, first on Saoirse …
… after which she practiced her Xena cuff on my arm. I volunteered to get my top off like a million times, but no dice.
Then I practiced on Chloe at home …
… after which she sat around my lounge room topless, painted as a tiger, watching TV for ages and ages.
… and some goldeneye action to cover up my stained eyelids. Stained from the MAC Chromaline we were using as a base for the bright eyeshadow in Asian bridal. Oh, so pink and fabulous (until you try to wash it off – so, perfect for the long-wear you’d want on your wedding day!)
Graftobian cosmetic powdered metal (copper) and Graftobian Magic Set Mixing & Lining Liquid.
I don’t have any of my own to experiment with yet, but I suspect the Magic Set might rival Illamasqua sealing gel. It’s the same kind of thing – a setting liquid that you mix with powder to create an opaque, fast drying and long-lasting paint… only Graftobian’s is a fraction of the price.
Oh speaking of bargains, Crownbrush UK will be having a 20% off sale probably within the next couple of days (once they reach 20,000 ‘likes’ on Facebook). I use a lot of their brushes – they’re good and dirt cheap. Get in. You don’t need to spend heaps on brushes; if you use them a lot therefore clean them a lot, they’re going to lose hair regardless, so you may as well get cheaper ones cos they’re going to need replacing anyway. And I honestly don’t notice a difference in quality with most of my cheap brushes up against, say, MAC ones I’ve paid a fortune for.
It’s just unnecessary. Get cheap brushes and spend what you’ve saved on regular facials; no brush or foundation for that matter is going to make a lick of difference if you face has the texture of a house brick.
Bed time, flogstars. Here’s Harry Belafonte to sing you to sleep.
Today was our first bodypainting session. Our tutor Janet demonstrated a few techniques, painting a black corset with gold lace and roses, on one of our brave and gorgeous classmates (Jen), who was an awfully good sport about the whole thing.
Here’s the one photo I took, of everyone being pervy and taking photos of Jen with her baps out.
.
I asked Jen’s permission to upload this photo here, on my flog.
“Jen”, I said solemnly, “It is one thing to stand topless in front of 20 of your silent, gawping classmates for an hour while Janet paints your nips. It’s one thing to have a photo of your blacked-out rack all over Facebook, but quite another to have it on this, the greatest flog in all the land, a modern-day oracle, revered by titans of the cosmetic industry, creators, producers, artists, muses, rebels, waifs, designers, dreamers and lovers alike. Are you SURE you don’t mind me publishing this smartphone photo of your side-boob to the finest minds on the internet, my international audience of millions? Think carefully Jen, are you ready to become iconic, timeless, an indelible mark on the annals of cultural history, a part of the Imosphere… forever?”
Jen did one better. “Course it’s fine, I’ve got some better pics if you’d prefer to use those, I’m not shy!”
Then it was everyone else’s turn to strip off and give it a go. We are all much better acquainted now.
This is what I whipped up in my first attempt:
only took me like ten minutes, too. LOL, this is not, I repeat NOT, my work, I totally stole this image from … holy shit, I lost my reference page. Not good. Sorry, whoever this belongs to. UGH, this is the WORST blog etiquette, Imogen, the WORST. Not taking the picture down, mind, it’s too cool. Forgive me, blog gods.
Moving on, the afternoon class (Basic Makeup) involved me being cruelly separated from my beloved study-buddy Sinead, and paired with the equally delightful Magda:
hope y’all aren’t sick of these mirror photos, there are SO MANY more to come
who did this ‘basic 4-shadow blend’ on my mug:
everyone else in the class has nailed their ‘face for when a close-up photo is being taken of your makeup’ – not this guy.
And that was all in a day’s work, best beloved. I’m pooped.
A song before bedtime, you say? Go on.
Here’s Eels with The Good Old Days, from the album Shootenanny! (the exclamation mark is part of the album title, not just my enthusiastic punctuation). This song choice will surprise regular readers, who normally brace themselves for some terrible 80s hair metal at this time of the flog. I chose this song because I couldn’t get a link to All In A Day’s Work from the same album, and also because it’s beautiful, and nice and mellow for this time of night.
What is Shootenanny! doing in my CD collection, if I also own not one but TWO Iron Maiden albums? I’ll tell you. I was going to save this story for publication in a fucking epic post in which I interview myself, but let’s treat ourselves.
The most sensible new year’s resolution I ever had was to buy one new album every payday. I might reinstate that one actually, when I have paydays again that is, LOL. Anyhoo, Eels had a song on the radio that I liked, so I bought their album, loved it, then went to their show at the Thebarton Theatre in Adelaide, when they toured. This would have been about ten years ago.
Of every live music performance I have ever seen, and not to brag or anything but I have seen shitloads, Eels are the only band I’ve seen who kept playing after the show really was over. And I mean over. I don’t mean an encore. Lights were on, power was shut off, everyone had left. There was probably a lone wee guy sweeping up empty plastic beer cups. Still they kept going. My pal EJ and I were there until almost the bitter end; I don’t know how long they actually kept playing for, and the only reason I know for sure that they’re not still going on that very same stage is because I have seen other shows there since.
Anyway, Shootenanny! is a great album, and reminds me of… a time in my life that was technically a bit shit in a few ways, I hated my job for example, but music that makes you remember anything always makes you a bit fond, doesn’t it.
The reason I have opened today’s post with an old photo of Bon Scott smiling through the agony of a badly infected testicle that you can practically hear straining against the seam of those skin-tight grey jeans is…. sorry, I’ve completely lost my train of thought.
well hello
Oh yeah. Something to do with an idea I had for one of my wig assessments. Any man out there willing to let me apply mascara to his chest hair to achieve the look? Get in touch via my contact page. I’ll make you look cool, promise.
This being-in-a-new-city-and-not-knowing-many-locals-well-enough-to-ask-if-they’ll-let-me-paint-their-bare-bodies situation is going to quickly become a problem for me at college. All I ever had to do in Oban was pull a ‘having a creative idea’ face and BAM, everyone’s volunteering to get naked, painted and photographed. Where are you, Glasgow exhibitionists?
Perhaps I should be careful what I wish for. Remember what happened when I put an ad on Gumtree looking for a flat-share? Yeah.
Anyhoo. Here are some other rock-god chests I wouldn’t mind painting, since I’m feeling particularly self indulgent today.
Reckless Love, who I shall be seeing next Thursday with Carissa – we are returning to the scene of last year’s crime…
Jettblack. When you google images of them, two pictures of me come up, which pleases me immensely. Lick lick.
Alright, that’s enough of that. We’ve got a lot to cover today.
Autumn’s here. Next week it will be October. I’m a little shit-scared of how fast time is galloping by.
I feel both settled and still very new in Glasgow. The very first time I arrived here in March 2008, I had a budget of £15 per day – £2 for food (Subway 6-inch of the day), £13 for my hostel bed which included breakfast, and dinner was a row of chocolate from the enormous stockpile I had bought in Belgium.
There is something about having absolutely no money that is kind of liberating. I mean, it fucking sucks, but it simplifies things. I walked and walked and walked around, day and night. I ‘saved’ all the free museums and art galleries for shit-weather days, and just walked the rest of the time. I would sleep in until right before free breakfast ended, so I wouldn’t be awake for too long burning calories and getting hungry. Late at night I would sit in my bunk writing, watching the others in my 14-bed dorm, wishing I was travelling with a big group of friends like they all seemed to be, wishing I knew where to go and what to do.
Everyone I spoke to raved about Edinburgh. Nobody seemed to think that Glasgow was up to much. I didn’t necessarily agree but after nearly 2 weeks walking and walking and walking around, I thought I could probably justify forking out for a bus to Edinburgh to see what all the fuss was about. There began a chain of events that lead me to running the backpackers’ hostel in Oban for 5 years, but that’s another story for another time.
What I didn’t immediately realise was that I’d developed quite a good relationship with Glasgow in this formative period of my early backpacking days. I didn’t have a head full of shit about how dangerous Glasgow was, so it didn’t occur to me to feel unsafe cruising the mean streets on my own in the middle of the night. I think I have always been reasonably sensible so I wasn’t going anywhere actually dodgy at night, but in retrospect I think the whole experience would have been different, and ruined, if I had been scared.
Instead, I felt Glasgow’s friendliness, I felt like it was a good place to be if you weren’t from here. People heard my accent and were interested. I was a young woman travelling alone so people went out of their way to make sure I was ok. I got invited into people’s homes for cups of tea and to look in their old family photo albums. They wrote down their addresses so I could send them postcards from wherever I went next. No one stabbed me, and I was never even offered heroin.
Glasgow is my Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Glasgow is my hooker with a heart of gold, my rough diamond. Glasgow’s reputation might not be the best, but you have to cop a feel for yourself, make your own mind up.
And do you think I can get the effing gif of Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in The Diamond Necklace Scene to work? Gah!
Anyway, here I am again, back where I first started my Scottish adventure five and a half years ago. My budget is about the same again, but the new job I start tomorrow will hopefully have LOTS of overtime and put an end to all this being-broke bullshit. It’s really cramping my style.
Are you still reading? Good for you. This week at college!
Kim Kardashian-style kontouring!
Saoirse kontoured to within an inch of her life
and just to think, most people try to get their makeup to match their skin tone and NOT leave a streaky brown tide mark around their jaw.
Wig work!
Ashleigh rocking the 90s-kids-TV-presenter look
She would have been the coolest girl at my high school in 1998
not pubes, just another wig sitting in front of the mirror
… and posing, bitches.
So here’s AC/DC with their 1980 hit, You Shook Me All Night Long, because it’s Friday. I know this flog has attracted the attention of many classic rock puritans internationally who are going to light up the whole internet with bitter posts about how you can’t have a photo of Bon Scott’s crotch one minute, and be signing off with a Brian Johnson hit the next, but all I can say is bite me. Also, AC/DC are Australian*. Ha!
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digital imologue 