Here's the conundrum~while wearing four inch heels, she must walk the precarious line between looking credible~oooooorrrrrr~BEING ONE with the girls camp experience. Whether or not she is credible is not pertinent here, friends. It's all about the facade. And you should know that by now. (irritated eye roll)
I'll take input until about an hour before I leave~I need enough time for ringlets and powder.
Speaking of ringlets, do any of you remember when we used to pull our hair back in a tight bun, with plastic butterfly barrettes and side-burn ringlets? Those were the days. The fashion forward, shades of cocoa blush and disco days of my youth. I have to say, at the risk of sounding like a braggart, I had me some sweet moves as the masculine half of a 6th grade disco partnership.
Boys don't dance.
We did what we had to do, so shut it.
Anyway, I remember it like it was yesterday...(Lisa dons a dreamy expression while looking heavenward, picture fades out and returns with BOW CHICCA WOW WOW music.)... Bell bottom jumpsuits...Tony home perms...light blue eyeshadow from lash to brow. Reuniting felt so good with peaches...and herbs...and some idiot who left a cake out in the rain that Donna Summer had SLAVED OVER, PEOPLE...and she JUST DOESN'T KNOW IF SHE CAN TAKE IT! And who can blame her?! Plus add to the mix that I told people I was Bionic, fully convinced myself, and you have a pretty good picture of pre-pubescent Princess Lisa.
But that's beside the point. Hello-ooo? It's about what I'm wearing tonight? Remember? Geez. Try to stay focused.
Course, if you fail me, I'm going with my back-up plan. It's a little thing I like to call "HOLLYWOOD/GAGA/OBAMA PRINCESS LISA." Six words~me...naked...spray-glue...hot...pink...glitter. So distracting, it won't matter that there's no substance.
Wish me luck, friends!