Chiffon and a Tripod

It was one of those nights where life felt even more confusing than usual. School is looming in the distance and there is work I have yet to prepare for a peer mentoring program. In less than a week my deadline for a completed, live on the Internet website will arrive. When faced with an overwhelming amount of responsibilities I do the most logical thing possible; I play dress up by myself. A few lamps and a tripod become a makeshift lighting studio and eyeliner takes the place of a brow pencil, making me look more like a drag queen than usual.

 

I like collarbones. They are so damn weird, two bones jutting out of smooth, flat skin. I'm generally drawn to weird things, and weird people for that matter.

This necklace, it makes me happy. Glass shards, hot glue, and fish wire. I hope to sell a similar model one day, but I will need a substitute for the hot glue because it is not the most sturdy material. Any suggestions please let me know!

Oh, and this chair. I found it at a seedy suburban thrift store for $15. My dad was all hot and bothered when I brought it home. I blame my grandma for convincing me to buy it; she is the most persuasive 86 year old woman you will ever meet. But you'll probably never meet her so just take my word for it.

Chiffon. I am all about chiffon. For me, a hand full of chiffon is like a hand full of A cup boob for a middle school boy; it's awesome.

The middle part. I tried it. I disliked it.

 

(dress: Arden B., necklace: my own creation)

Fashion and photography are my forms of therapy. Instead of talking to someone about my feelings I capture them in an image. Unlike conventional therapy where everything is a well kept secret between shrink and patient, photo therapy is put on display, turning emotional turmoil into art. Now I feel better. Now I can breath.