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.
Sometimes, when you go unprepared into something, with a barely thought-through idea that was shit to begin with, the result can be disappointing. That’s another way of saying I had no idea what I was doing today, this first Titty Tuesday, and it went… tits up.
My gracious sister Chloe accompanied me in to college to be my bodypainting model, ever good-natured and generous with her time.
I was going to paint Chloe as a mermaid, or in a military uniform with a cute hat, and pockets glued over her baps and epaulettes stuck on her shoulders. I was also going to make her look like the Venus de Milo (but with arms), or Superman or Xena (but both of those were already taken). We talked about what I was going to paint her as A LOT in the lead up to this, yet none of the ideas actually stuck. It was all just a bit all over the place.
So I had no idea what I was going to do, and going in to class today, I felt incapable, disorganised, out of my depth… and all over the place.
First up we gave the mermaid idea a whirl, which was such a HUGE flop I can’t bring myself to show you photos of it. Ugh. We LOL’d, Chloe wiped it all off (see pic above), and I started again on the back-up plan – TIGER!
That came together alright, but not before the tutor pointed out that my ideas were wishy-washy, disorganised and disconnected, I hadn’t done my homework, and I was obviously taking the easy option and staying well within my comfort zone by doing bodypainting that was essentially an extension of the same ole face-painting I’ve done a billion zillion times.
Green tiger for St Patrick’s day
All of which was true, but still dented my massive yet fragile ego, which was particularly fragile in light of the failed mermaid attempt. AND on Monday afternoon I also didn’t like my work in Basic Makeup, it just… wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do. My confidence was in the shitter. It all got on top of me, friends. For the first time since starting the course, this week I felt like I was just too crap at this to even try any more, and would never have a decent creative idea again as long as I live.
If I can’t even blend two eyeshadows together, how will I ever get by in a world filled with “self taught! This isn’t my job, I just do it for fun!” makeup artists who are so insanely talented it makes me want to vomit? Boo hoo.
So I pouted and felt sorry for myself and whinged to my nearest and dearest about my insecurities, and was reminded that (a) I’m learning, and not supposed to be good at bodypainting the first time I try it, (b) Max Factor himself probably can’t paint tits for shit (thanks Loz) and (c) it’ll pass, everyone has crap days.
If you’re having an un-creative slump yourself, read this and you, too, will get over it. Lesson learned: be organised and focussed, it will make you feel confident and the rest will fall into place.
Moving on, I had a go at the tiger bodypainting which I also wasn’t happy with, but it wasn’t a total fuck-up either. When I do it for realsies, for the assessment in a couple of weeks, I’ll have honed my technique and I think it should come up alright.
It will obviously be, uh, finished on the day of the assessment. Ie her face will be painted, her hair will be done, the photo submitted will be all styled and shit.
close up of brushwork/stippling. LOL. Rhymes with nippling.
After “Advanced Makeup Techniques”, Chloe stuck around for the afternoon class (Basic Makeup) where we were practicing basic bridal makeup.
marry me, darling
I decided to temporarily relocate Chloe’s lip-line half way down her chin, just for fun.
Hope you like our Wayne’s World style product placement there.
*bridesmaid face*
HOW does she, my own sister, have such a nice profile, while I look like a geriatric man who’s had a penis transplanted onto his face after losing his nose in a freak accident that also left him with a pronounced underbite? HUH?
So that’s what’s all happening up in here, flogstars.
What’s today’s video, you ask? A Tits-Oot Tuesday post wouldn’t be complete without a nod to the Queen of Dollywood herself. Wanna see Dolly Parton honking at her own magnificent rack and hollerin’ “hey Miley, I’ve got your wreckin’ balls right here!”? ‘Course you do. So watch this, it’s Dolly ‘rapping’ on Queen Latifah’s talk show. Yes, you read that right. You’re welcome.
also, how BUFF is my arm? That’s my left arm, too.
Here I am at college, looking pensively out the window, wishing they’d fucking give us some notice for the days we’re having our photo taken so I’d know to spend a bit of time on my hair and makeup.
I’m also reflecting on poor old Miley Cyrus’s makeup in her latest music video – is it MEANT to look terrible? As if it was hastily applied by someone who had never used liquid liner before? As if the makeup artist had none of her kit with her that day, and so had to borrow stuff from someone who doesn’t really have any makeup, except for this old mascara sample and lip crayon that came free with a magazine 8 years ago and has been sitting untouched in a desk drawer ever since?
If so, job done, but it still bothers me. More than her bare arse on that demolition ball. You don’t want dust there.
Anyway, enough about Miley, this is imogenmaxwell.com after all.
3 weeks into my course and I can still scarcely believe that Googling pictures of David Bowie and making scrapbooks of makeup pictures is now, officially, what I do. No longer a slightly eccentric indulgence furtively carried out behind closed doors. A legitimate passtime. Positively reinforced by tutors who recognise my ability to Google pictures of David Bowie with unbroken focus for hours on end as sure signs of passion and commitment.
I am in actual heaven.
Anyway. What did I do apart from go Bowie-gif-crazy this week, you ask? Why, more airbrushing, of course. I only just realised that the eyeshadow, below, I did on Sinead is a little bit inspired by David’s, above. Interesting. STOP TALKING ABOUT DAVID BOWIE IMOGEN, NO ONE ELSE CARES.
my patient model Sinead
Airbrushing is a messy little bastard, if you’ve never had the pleasure. My own jury is still out on the whole business; I mean, I know I’ve only had two shots at it, but I can’t really see the point so far. It’s messy, it smells weird, you look like a newsreader with it on, it doesn’t come off, it takes longer than normal makeup, and cleaning the gun is a real pain in the can.
see? MESSY!
splotches everywhere from the damn gun spitting! Ffffffuck!
the look now complete with Aunt Sally pink blush
We also did face charts, which is colouring in, but less fun because you’re doing it with makeup that doesn’t stick to paper (if it’s powder) or doesn’t blend properly (if it’s cream). But kind of cool anyway. Here’s my first one:
show us yer cheekbones
So that’s what’s all going on at college, y’all.
Bet you’re wondering what song will accompany today’s flog post. David Bowie? Not today. Not even the Misfits even though I’m wearing my Misfits top in my window portrait up top there. No, not the Misfits. Don’t worry, not Miley either. How about some Korn because it’s a cool video and they’re about to release a new album for the first time in ______ years?
I’m lying in bed with my laptop on my chest, full of cake and hangover, but smiling through the pain. Thanks to my family and friends for indulging me, spoiling me, celebrating with me this weekend – feeling very loved and overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity.
So how does one turn 30, Imo-style? Well.
I went down to Glasgow to scope out my new local area…
… continued filming How I Killed Your Father with the delightful David Fernandez…
… got the surprise of my life when Irene came over from Denmark to surprise me for my birthday…
… celebrated the shit out of said birthday, by having a Tarantino co-party with other July baby Agapantha…
can I just point out, the reason I look knackered is too-clever shading and contouring I did so I would look like I had been up all night taking cocaine with Vincent Vega. Not actually so hag-faced in real life, I swear. Many thanks to resident pastry chef (and fellow Adelaide girl) Keva for the raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake – yummm. Check out her blog here and I challenge you to NOT lick your computer screen.
Colin as Stuntman Mike. Scar by me.
Ian getting tatted up a la George Clooney in Dusk Til Dawn
… and ripped all my clothes off and jumped into Loch Lomond with Faye, because why not.
This coming week I’m ordering all the kit to start my course next month, but even more exciting than bruise wheels and liquid latex is this – my adventure down to London with Chloe for the David Bowie Is exhibition at the V&A. Giddy up!
ain’t she just the best
So just this once I’ll deviate from the usual hair metal that only I give a shit about, and leave you with the great man himself. A new version of this song is being used to advertise a mobile phone at the moment so here you go, get educated.
You can substitute the lyrics to be “blue, blue, electric blue, is the colour of my poo” if you like.
It’s all go here at ImogenMaxwell.com this month; my birthday is coming…
… my new smart phone has made me 100% more obnoxious…
… and I’ve got new digs in Glasgow. I move early August into the most friggin’ gorgeous flat I’ve seen in real life. From the swamp of responses I received to my gumtree ad, a lone flower emerged from the mire… well, crap analogy but anyway, the best response to my ad led me to three girls around my age with a spare room in the west end. Score!
they don’t know I look like this in the morning. Yet.
So that’s it. I’m moving to Glasgow, decision made. I now have the timetable for my course, I’m there 4 days a week (annoying) but have Friday-Saturday-Sunday off (excellent).
Makeup Forever aqua cream shadows, Illamasqua powder shadow and sealing gel
Anyhoo. Today’s hair metal classic is another wee diamond with a slightly WTF opening sequence, Summertime Girls by Californian poodle-permers Y & T. Within this video you’ll find a wide world of 80s wonder – men in crop tops, a bikini that looks like pubes (why why why), a “heavy metal detector” detecting one of the band members buried under the sand, an actual mermaid and painfully high-cut swimwear that only the 80s can do.
It’s this kind of fun, feel-good, dumb ole rock-n-roll that really makes summer, for me; it’s sure as shit not the drizzle, 90mph wind and 11-degree days here on the west coast of Scotland. Enjoy!
do u want to share a nice place with a nice handsome guy?;)
I am living in one bedroom flat, and I like to shear my Flat with decent female if you inerested
you are so cute!
Hi there are u still looking for room I have something for u , don’t worry about rent just phone me
ON THE INTERNET! THAT’S where they all are. Just waiting for someone to put an ad on Gumtree for a flat-share, before they pounce with close-up photos of their penises*.
Sigh. I’m trying to get whoreganised for starting the makeup artistry study at Clydebank, you see. At the moment, all I know is that I’ve got a place on the course, and that classes begin on 19 August. As I intend to go balls-to-the-wall with the course, this will involve defecting from Oban and being present, focused, committed and completely available somewhere near the college at least, from mid-August onwards.
Which is exciting and fabulous; I like Glasgow. I’m lucky too; my boss isn’t making me quit my cool job up here in Oban to embark on this new adventure. August is probably the worst month in which to make myself scarce, as it’s our busiest up here – yet still he’s being all cool with it. The idea, at this stage with NO INFORMATION WHATSOEVER FROM THE COLLEGE, is that I’ll be down there in Glasgow for part of the week, and up here in Oban as much as practical and possible.
So what I’m looking for is a room in a flat with nice normal people who already live there. Somewhere that will be easy-access to the college. As I’m not sure how much of the week I’ll be spending there, the most important thing is that public transport between my new digs and college is quick and easy, and that my co-inhabitants don’t try to get fresh with me. Unless I say they can.
The lonely hearts that are replying to my business-like, non-sexual and entirely uninviting ad on Gumtree represent quite a wide and vivid spectrum of un-gentlemanliness. Some are obvious creeps, but some are just lonely and want someone else to be there when they get home. And I’m actually not here to make fun of that.
I pity them only because they’re barking up completely the wrong tree if they’re approaching ME to give their home any kind of feminine touch. I mean, I’ve been known to throw dishes in the bin instead of washing up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a pig (as evidenced by my unwillingness to have dirty dishes lying around), but I’m just not one to buy flowers or bake cookies, sorry guys.
You could only have ever described me as a house proud domestic goddess during protracted periods of underemployment, when I had literally nothing better to do and couldn’t afford to be out in public having an actual good time. This was before things like laptops and broadband entered the Imosphere, so self-entertainment was a different animal.
Just to be clear, I can bake, polish silver, vacuum the skirting boards properly. I know about stain removal. I know which cleaning products to use on the various household surfaces. I know that tidying the sofas can make you a rich woman; there is ALWAYS change in that bad boy. A veritable gold mine!
I am lightening with an iron; when I was a kid I got 5c per shirt, so I had to be damn fast or I’d be losing money standing there. I really enjoy a clean, orderly home – and that shit was my bread and butter when I was an enterprising child fleecing my parents out of $10 a week to do ALL of the housework (the equivalent of -$7.82 per hour in today’s economic climate; I bet they still laugh about it, but at the time, when I was too young to be legally employed anywhere else, it was like winning the lottery). It’s just… there’re so many better things to do.
So like I was saying, I pity the fool(s) who are looking for a guid wee wifey because, as Carissa wisely said, anyone who would post or respond to an invitation to share a rent-free bed with a guy you haven’t met in exchange for doing his domestic shit-work… would have to be completely insane. Gasp – I’ve just figured it out.
There is a lot to celebrate, this week. First, a tax return that I wasn’t expecting. I have been so thorough in my celebration of this ‘free money’ that I’m pretty sure I’ve spent it several times over already. I pounced on some facepaint and wigs on eBay this morning just in case.
And secondly, I have been offered a place at the Clydebank College to study a Higher National Diploma in Makeup Artistry. I don’t know what to say here about it, the news is still sinking in but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I am so happy and excited and my whole life is about to change and it’s SO EXCITING!!!!!!!
I hope your Friday brings/has brought you something to go ‘wooooo’ about, too.
… will be coming my way today. Hopefully. I should hear from Clydebank College today.
In the meantime, here is a photo of me in blue mascara. I was having trouble getting a photo in which I was NOT cross-eyed, so I just went with it. Blue mascara needn’t make you look crazy.
I like to put black mascara on underneath coloured mascara. This particular blue mascara is a Rimmel one I’ve had for about ten years, so right after I took this photo I chucked it in the bin because it was a little dry and chunky – but I shall be getting another one soon, fear not. No one does electric blue mas like Rimmel.
So, best beloved, you’re all gagging to know how my interview for a place on the above course went. While you would be forgiven for thinking that they were interviewing me to see if I was a suitable candidate, in fact what actually happened was that I interviewed them to see whether their course is in the running to be the Next Amazing Fun Thing that I do.
As you can imagine, competition for this accolade is FIERCE. But I am pleased to announce that the Clydebank College did very well indeed. The course sounds interesting, challenging and varied. The course director and lecturer that interviewed me seemed cool. Tick, tick.
I was surprised (and a little deflated) by how many others there were being interviewed, but not surprised by the fact that I was 15 years older than most of them. I was not surprised to be told that we’d be expected to ‘look the part’ (ie dress as if we are already working in the industry), but I was surprised that this meant wearing a lot of makeup every day; I had assumed that, because of the practical nature of the tutorials, that we would be practicing on each other and that it’d be better for us to show up with bare faces. Anyhoo.
Clydebank College is situated in Dalmuir. I feel quite sorry for it actually. The walk from the train station to the college was uninspiring to say the least, past buildings that on the ground floor were solid shutters, grills, bars. Everything required to keep desperation and poverty out.
The college itself is nice though, new and big and seemed to have a lot going on. I would be very happy to study there. If candidates are being selected on the basis of elderly-ness, Australianism, fox-factor, passion and really-badly-wanting-it, I’m a shoe-in. If they’re going to be sticking to their pesky entry requirements then not so much.
I’m certainly not holding my breath because the course seems to have a LOT of applicants, and there are only about 30 places available. I sincerely hope Clydebank College recognises the rare opportunity they have been given to align themselves to the Imogen Maxwell brand at this early stage of my glittering career.
I’ll find out within 2 weeks and let y’all know. If they won’t have me then I’ll just bloody well teach myself body painting. Recruiting nude models now!
That Will Smith song has been in my head for days, and now we must all suffer. Let’s get it out the way at the beginning of the post so we can put it behind us, move on and never speak of it again. So Thursday was a big day – a visit from […]
I strongly dislike airbrushing. It’s frustrating. The guns we use at college aren’t the best, and it’s impossible to clean them properly. That, and our class is 20-odd chicas, so we all have to share. Everything. All the time. There’s one of each thing we need, and 20 people wanting to use it at the […]
Which is why I find myself covered in aspirin and honey, and a head full o’ bleach on a Sunday night. I went to visit Melissa and Che in Edinburgh last night, cos I’m spontaneous like that. We watched Pretty Woman, Che and I got drunk and Melissa didn’t because she’s pregnant, and I made […]
Only my second week at makeup school and I’ve shaved my eyebrows off. Remember kids, if you DO shave your eyebrows off, you’ll need to learn how to quick-draw your emotions. This week, I have also been learning AIRBRUSHING! In the chair is my college, carpool, Facebook, and real life friend Sinead. We spray-painted each […]
If you’re an avid Imogen Maxwell fan, you’ll have noticed an unusual amount of activity on my Instagram recently. That’s because I am unemployed and have no friends. But considering I am unemployed and have no friends, I’ve been keeping quite busy. Let me tell you about my first week at college. The journey there […]
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digital imologue 