So I listen to a lot of techno. It might be dorky, and it might give you a headache, but for me its like really good Sunday sex. Unexpected and fabulous. If it was the nineties, you'd call me a candy kid, but its not the nineties, so you'd just call me Skye. I'm here to tell you my story of how I fell in love with a mask.
I got my invitation in the mail on Wednesday. The party was on Friday, so I didn't have a lot of time, but I wanted to look amazing. I wanted to look like a big walking freeze pop -- cool, colorful, and satisfying. This is what the invitation read:
Friday night
Admission: 5$
Costume Contest
400$ Prize
At The Layzer
I had to be there. It was a must. So when Friday night came I had the perfect outfit. I wore and electric blue micro mini, with yellow fishnet stockings, and a yellow halter top with blue plastic beads. I brushed my long black hair and applied bright red lipstick to my lips. I pulled on a white pair of boots, stacked high because my Korean mother doesn't have a tall gene in her body.
I ran out the door to catch the subway. New York is literally a jungle, and I felt like the top lioness tonight. I strode proudly swinging my hips in a demanding manner, you had no choice but to look, whether you liked what you saw or not, and people usually did. when I arrived at the club I greeted the doorman and walk in.
I scanned the room, but not for my friends, they would come to me. What I was looking for was competition. When your at the top of your game, and your run a scene, there is always one person right behind you, or even beside you, that will knock you off your throne. tonight wasn't going to be my night.