Me, as a blonde girl from the 1920s, caught daydreaming between shots by my friend, Anna.
I want to tell you the whole story. I want to grab you by the shoulders and jump up and down and then whisper everything into your ear.
But I have to wait for a little while until everything goes through. Until all the pieces are in place and then I can tell you the secret. Just cross your fingers for me…because if everything works out right…it could be a really big deal.
I can tell you that it’s a project that I got a chance to work on with one of my favorite partners in crime…Miss Anna…♥ ♥ ♥
and that I stole all these pictures that she took from her journal because I can’t show you the real pics yet.
Just know…that it was a day filled with sunshine streaking through the windows, plastic orange guns hidden in drawers, chocolate chip cookies used as bribery, lying through our teeth to get permission to shoot in insanely off access areas, and was topped off by my “drowning” in a pool built in 1923.
What did I tell you before…? That I wasn’t happy unless I was doing something that might possibly land me in prison for years…?
All I’ve got to say is that I have never been more amazed at Anna’s random talent of being able to piece together outfits on a moment’s notice that were completely 1920s style. She is THE woman when it comes that era. End of story. Between the two of us, we have the first half of the 1900s covered.
Since doing this project on Thursday, I’ve been in a really good mood. Tonight, I took the Matchbox out and rolled down the windows as I drove. It’s actually a warm-ish night for February, and the city is beautiful and alive tonight. I listened to Iggy Pop and just watched the city go by. The hula girl on the dash board waved appreciatively at the fresh breeze through the open windows.
My skin stung with goosebumps…
Right now, I have a fire in my soul just being alive on a night like this.
And I’m taking you with me in my mind.
“Oh, the passenger
He rides and he rides…
He sees things from under glass.
He looks through his window