The freakishly gorgeous Lucent Dossier, Vaudevillian Cirque

I was rendered stoked earlier today when I got a call from the weird and warm folks at Lucent Dossier, saying they've reserved a ticket for me to head to the Labryrinth of Jareth, a masquerade ball of epic proportions at the Fonda. One caveat: myself, and my photographer, the Esteemed Mister Timothy Norris would not gain entry if we weren't wearing wigs or fairy wings or something kind of magical/drag queeny. My excitement only grew. Mandatory ridiculousness. It's rare, and thrilling.

I have since made a stop at the Vine Party Store and climbed over a heap of life size Fabio cutouts into the forbidden and roped-off halloween section, emerging with some sort of four dollar mask made of feathers, which I will wear on my face. We'll keep you posted on how Mr. Norris looks in my pink wig.

A trial run of feather-faced madness: 

It never fails: everyone walking into the Scene in Glendale awkwardly registers the stench of, as one patron squawked last night, "f@*ckin' beer farts, dude!'

While that sends shivers and nausea through me, there is a light at the end of this stinky tunnel, and one which makes breathing the thick air inside a little easier.

The smell is not generated by anyone's intestines, but rather, the adorable photobooth in the back of the scene. In particular, "sulfur dioxide and some minor ammonia and chloramine which will smell up the darkroom."  Or in this case, a bar.