Perched on my invisible post, I swirled the world around like a 6-year-old having their first go at Spin Art.  Faces spun together from all ends of the emotional color wheel; Surprised, confused, excited, distracted, alarmed, awed- all blended between florescent lights and flattened grey carpeting.  Touching down with just the tip of my toes, I paused to steady the world for a moment, and it occurred to me what a strange circumstance I had gotten myself into when I accepted the job just one week prior.

It started the morning of a rehearsal for Time vs. Money, when Viktor walked into the studio, flipped on the lights and, without hesitation or the hint of trepidation in his voice, asked me my cup size.  “A or B?”, he inquired.  Assuming the question came in regards to a costume, but leery of a costume in which the size of my bra carries so much significance, “Umm…C?”, I continued the interview with another question.  “It’s only A or B, which is it?”, refusing to accept my fullness.  I assured him we’d better settle on “B”, and he started tapping away on the flat keyboard of his cellphone, all before even revealing the reason for his inquiry.  They don’t call him Boundless Plotnikov for nothing.

Finally looking up from his 4-inch screen, Viktor explained to me about his talent scout friend-of-a-friend and the search for a dancer to model at an event the following weekend.  He didn’t give me much information, but the promise of a check during my first month of summer lay-off spread my mouth into the dubious wide crescent of a happy Cheshire Cat.  A short bit of internet correspondence later, it was all arranged.  I was booked to model (spin dance) on a pedestal (wobbly plastic perch of terror) at the MAC cosmetics counter in the Nordstrom downtown.

When I arrived at MAC on the first day, a painted girl in a chic black, multi-textural ensemble led me down a hallway to a teeny dressing room I never knew existed.  I remember thinking to myself, This is total Nordstrom VIP.  A moment later, another beautifully painted lady entered with her tool belt arsenal of brushes, goops, powders, and creams.  She sat me down, drapped a robe over my shoulders, and with a smile she sprayed, brushed, moussed, twisted, braided, wrapped and pinned me until an hour had passed and my hair stuck coiled like a tight astronaut’s rope atop my head.  Her true forté, the makeup portion, she completed with the light yet purposeful hand of a practiced profession in under 20 minutes.  The speed of the procedure only highlighted her artistry.  In keeping with the theme, a launch of the new Alluring Aquatics collection, I emerged from the secret room a vintage-inspired synchronized swimmer from space, with an intricate cap of braids and the soft, dewey maquillage of a mermaid.

hair, makeup, and photos by Loran Diciolla