Nine years ago, Hannah Montana belted those infamous words, "Nobody's perfect / I gotta work it / Again and again 'til I get it right." Well, today I truly understood Miss Montana's words. Let's start from the beginning.
As I watched he Powerpuff Girls today in an attempt to summon the good feelings of my friends from college (we'd always watch together), I paid special attention to one of the villains on the show, Him. I've always been really interested in villains, and for some reason I overanalyzed Him today. I realized that his suggestiveness and gender ambiguity may be a play on his lust for power. The more I thought, the more I realized that Him would make a really good outfit recreation.
So, I started with my adorably sexy lace dress and fishnet tights. Kicked the red and black out of the way, as well as the tights and the weird sex appeal. Since the back of the dress is see-through, I wore a black bandeau instead of a red bra like I usually do. I thought it would give it a little extra edge, and I needed more black in my look anyway. I put on my black heels (which are evil enough since they're so cute but hurt more than anything in the world), a black choker, and red earrings. I definitely looked interesting, but I thought it was kind of an intriguingly sexy kind of interesting.
I gathered my hair into the highest ponytail I can manage and slicked it back completely (one of my favorite styles), leaving the actual ponytail wild instead of setting it into one big banana curl like I usually do. I braided a strand of hair around the ponytail holder to give it a little something extra. Like I said, I looked different, but at this point, it was kind of okay.
Then, the shit hit the fan. I have no clue what I did. I looked in the mirror and a multitude of thoughts ran through my head. "Tacky." "Trainwreck." "Toddler who found her mother's makeup bag."
Allow me to explain: Him has very dark features that I thought I could incorporate into the look by giving myself a smoky eye, some liquid eyeliner, lots of other eyeliner, and defined pink cheeks. The only issues were, I have never successfully completed a smoky eye, never accurately used liquid eyeliner, don't wear eyeliner because I look terrible with it, and I don't have blush or a blush brush, just a finger and a Sephora palette with a passable pink shade. I knew things weren't going to work out when my eyeshadow started falling off of my face. Then, my eyeliner dried up, even though I've used it a grand total of two times. The application of my favorite lipstick color that perfectly suited Him's aesthetic successfully set this pile of shit on fire.
Honestly, I don't think my makeup looks terrible. If I wore this makeup with something else, maybe it would work. I think the clothes I was wearing would have looked sexier with a more natural face. Everything together was just a mess, which I guess kind of fits Him, but not a normal person.
Though I sat in front of my mirror for a good while telling myself to just write an article about something fashion-y, I realized that the whole purpose of this blog was to take risks. Here I am, the first time writing without an editor, making my own choices. Some of them are bound to be bad ones. Half the fun of fashion is taking risks anyway. There are so many outfits I wear that wouldn't exist if I didn't push myself to try something different. Most of the time, we learn from our mistakes. I'm gonna make a ton of mistakes on this blog, and I'm going to document every single one of them. Fuck-ups are fun! And I just want to have fun.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be scrubbing this excess amount of makeup off of my eyes.
