i curled my bangs for this.

my favorite casting studio is in MacArthur Park. i like not only because of its alarming proximity to my residence but because of its delightful array of baroque-rococo furnishings. not to mention the idyllic view of the actual park of MacArthur park. it looks like the ideal planned communal oasis of the 80s. so bucolic you can just imagine skateboarders in neon shorts and sunglasses doing kick flips and high-fiving each other off the metal staircase railings. today i wound up there for a casting with 1980s wardrobe notes. there is nothing my actual living wardrobe is more suited for; so of course this gave me a crisis of conscience that lead me down a Shannon Doherty / Jamie Gertz google image search that i could still be doing right now, just for pleasure. 

i ended up looking like Annie Potts threw style cues all over Lydia Deetz as usual, but my ankle and crotch-wear selections haven’t been so satisfying in a long time. that’s a problem i need to address both personally and professionally. anyway, i curled my bangs, i’m wearing lip gloss. i’m having the best day of my life. i know that after this I’m not going to be able to resist going to Ross Dress 4 Less and buying a spiral curling iron or some other discount hair styling implement. i have like $50 of Bedhead i got there for $20. why? because it was in a pink bottle. as my roommate Elyse’s friend and coworker so elegantly put it;

“my fucking lease will be up and i’ll still have that bottle of Bedhead.’


the point is, since most auditions end up feeling like a colossal waste of time, i collect cheap shopping destinations all over Los Angeles to make the drive and gas worthwhile. regardless of whether i end up in Sherman Oaks, Santa Monica, or MacArthur park, and no matter how shitty my day goes…there will always be thrift stores to comfort me. or Ross Dress 4 Less. when in Rome, you know?

but today’s audition wasn’t that terrible. i’m always curious what people are gonna end up looking like when decade-specific wardrobe notes are offered in the casting breakdown. the most legit looking people were, of course, bad-smelling metal dudes. although their collective “look” was more late-90s Sunset Strip trash than 80s metal. lots of studded leather pants, guys. how do you even wear that in this heat? that is called commitment. the girls left something to be desired, as usual. but i’m being a snob, cloaked in one of my boyfriend’s vast and inspiring array of fitted day-glo womens’ blazers and a metric ton of purple shimmering eyeliner. i’m delusional, delaying paycheck pickups and sundry errands for after the sun goes down. my eyes hurt. i dream of becoming Susanna Hoffs; i think once a day of how badly i want to be in a band that sounds like Slow Children. where am i? oh yeah. they make us dance to Janet Jackson, Bow Wow Wow. i make a character in my head; bored cokehead club girl. easy enough to play for one minute and thirty seconds. it could have been worse.

i still have 5 stripes of fuchsia eyeliner running the concourse of my heavily-blushed cheekbone. because remember the 80s? that was before ‘subtle contouring’ was invented. if you wanted cheekbones you just painted them on with your (my) mom’s lipstick.

speaking of my mom, i’m listening to Wilson Phillips greatest hits and i intend to keep doing so until i migrate to the couch to watch a bad 90s thriller on Netflix. something based on a John Grisham thriller and starring Tommy Lee Jones, or Susan Sarandon, preferably. 

anyway, i got nothing. because i’ve wasted all my creative energy for the day giving pitch-perfect 80s new wave face, and i probably STILL won’t book, despite my historical passion and near-expertise. i don’t know why. i probably just won’t. but i got a nice business card on my way out. i found it flailing between stacks of “master” casting workshops and headshot photographer tear sheets, that reads:

Astrology Counseling & Spiritual Coaching. 


because if you’re not getting SPIRITUAL COACHING at your commercial auditions, you’re not DOING IT RIGHT.