The Mad Hatter’s Masquerade Ball: #catpuppets And Other Maddenings

On March 8th, ARTPool Gallery hosted the Mad Hatter’s Masquerade Ball. In a word, trippy!

I gladly served as Steampunk Marie’s photographer for the evening, but of course, couldn’t come to the masquerade sans costume! Marie helped me whip up a Rainbow Brite-meets-Luz Benedict mashup. For a trusty steed to my colorful bandida, Spartacus the Unicorn.

Two magical things happened while Marie and I floated the ball. I’ll share in sub-story form:

C’mon Margarita. You Know Unicorns Are Cuter Than Cats

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Spartacus and Deadpool in synchronized stare off.

As we waited at the left arm of the runway T for the show to start, a woman wearing a red hat and cheery disposition approached the three of us. “Oh my goodness, she has a unicorn on her hand!” she squealed over to her decorated friend, then turned to me, “Can I talk to your unicorn?”

“Of course you can talk to me,” Spartacus replied.

“What’s your name?”

“Spartacus. What’s yours?” His voice strong and secure. A reliable steed, indeed.

“My name is Margarita. Oh, you’re so adorable!” Margarita’s hands cup Spartacus’ pink cheeks.

Humbled, Spartacus responds, “Thank you so much. You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

Margarita giggled like a school girl towards Spartacus, then to her friend, then towards me. Then she was struck confused. She went back to Spartacus.

“Ohh, I wish I brought a cat puppet! So-and-so, we shoulda brought cat puppets! Cats are soo much cuter than unicorns.”

Spartacus pinched his bottom lip.

Margarita implores, “No, I don’t mean you’re not cute, but cats are cuter.” Her hands cup Spartacus’ face once much to assure him, but he’s visibly burned.

“Come on now. Come on now, Margarita!” She chuckles as Spartacus sternly admonishes her,  “You know unicorns are way cuter than cats. Come on now.”

She giggles toward her friend once more. “It was nice talking to you, Spartacus.”

“You too, Margarita. Enjoy the show.”

That bitch just talked to my hand for five minutes straight.

What’s Steampunk?

Time for the costume contest! I tuck Spartacus away so I can command the camera. Marie jumps up on stage as a contestant. I take some broad shots with her and the other contestants. Steampunk Marie smartly stood above a flood light, so I just had to squidge down and capture her lighting. Difficult to do, by the way, in that the Miss Me cowgirl jeans I had on constricted my entire groin area!

Click click click I capture Steampunk Marie’s awesome hat competing with other awesome hats. I angle back to capture the line up just at the moment when Marie is interviewed by the show’s emcee. “My name is Marie, and I designed my whole costume…” The crowd cheers her designer talent, which makes me grin like a proud momma. “…and I call this Steampunk Marie!” to which the crowd, clearly full of Steampunk fans, cheers delightedly.

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Nanoseconds before the best eavesdrop of the year

I snap the photo.

A squeaky, nasally young woman’s voice asks behind me, “What’s steampunk?” with a pinched delivery of prejudice and superiority.

The voice that followed hers, who I deduced 1) was her date 2) secretly hates her but enjoys her blowjobs so he tolerates her  3) agreed to wear a mask – but ONLY a mask – to this stupid fashion show, responded in the most condescending way possible:

“You don’t know what Steampunk is?”

It took the strength of Atlas to keep me from baw haw hawwing into that snotty woman’s face and high-fiving Condescending Hipster Dude. I’m on duty, after all. Click, click, click!

Marie and I like to dress up, can’t you tell? We do it for the masters and we do for the holidays.

It’s fun and I’m sure we’ll be playing dress-up again soon!

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