new character unlocked

hot sleep paralysis demon attends garden party

My hair is bobbed, my brows are bleached and blocked, and I am wearing a denim blue lipstick that a six-year-old tells me “is a nice colour on its own but not when I am wearing it.”

The lipstick is not the only thing about my makeup she doesn’t get. Eugenie, my best friend’s daughter, perches next to me while I take her Elmer’s glue stick and slide it over my eyebrows; the next step in the process of disappearing them completely.

She watched me apply layers of increasingly pale base products to my face. Her brow furrows as I blend two diffused bright pink C’s from my upper cheekbone to my temple. I look at her puzzled face and can see her eyes begging the question “How come this woman who is allowed to wear makeup is choosing to use it like THIS?”

I have said before that kids have the best style and I meant it. But they can also be perplexed by the style motivations of adults.

Genie turns to her mother “She doesn’t look good.”

“She isn’t trying to,” Meredith replied. “She wants to look weird.”

I do. The bob and brows are a big change, only a few hours old. I’d visited my girl Katie Didham at her new salon Gel just that afternoon and feel invigorated by the results. It worked out perfectly that I will be hard-launching this look on the same day as Women Party.

If you’re new here, Women Party is Meredith’s dreamy annual nighttime garden party, where (emphatically) no men are allowed. Their absence is an invitation to serve a look without any consideration for the male gaze (their approval, their censure, their danger). This year the theme is circus, but think circus-after party. As if after the audience goes home, all the circus performers party under the big top into the wee hours of the morning and are all also beautiful millennial women.

Each year, my look for this party comes together very organically and makes me feel like my best self.

I knew I would have this new head, so I decided to paint it up as close to this picture I had pinned.

I had a Zoe Gustavia Anna Whalen corset from Absolutely Fabrics that I had never worn and then Meredith gave me these sheer sequin pants she bought for the Junos but were an entire mile too long on her. They were long on me too, so I used two wrist ruffles Meredith made to turn them into more of a clown pant and felt like a fucking genius. I bought a g-string from La Senza that afternoon so that any flash photography of my back would be as butt-forward as possible. That same afternoon, I had also impulse-bought a pair of zebra print knockoff Birks from H&M when my shoes were hurting my feet and decided to wear them to the party.

My toxic trait is that I can’t get ready quickly for any type of event, and rushing one single aspect will result in me having a panic attack and completely disassociating from the social situation I am getting ready for. It took me 45 minutes to get myself into the corset because the laces were fussy and I kept having to stop to take centring breaths.

Meredith comes in right as I finish getting ready and gasses me up enough to leave the bedroom and join the party. Transitions are hard. Feeling hot helps.

Throughout the night, something funny keeps happening. People don’t recognize me right away. That’s never happened before, and honestly? Kinda love it. Then they say very nice things like “You look so hot”, “chic”, and “Julia Fox.”

My friend Jackie says “David Bowie spicy hot iconic babe oh my god.”

My friend Isabel describes the look as “hot sleep paralysis demon.”

Meredith says “I think this is my favourite look you’ve ever worn.”

I feel great. So does everyone else. People really ran with the theme, and no two outfits look the same. The night has that rare party energy: sparkly, weird, perfect.

I’m still riding the high off the outfit when, at 4 a.m., I wash off the makeup, and then still can’t sleep from the buzz of it all. In the morning, I don’t need a sleep-in. No hangover. I solo-parent my daughter with more patience than usual, like I have extra reserves.

This is what I mean when I say getting ready is a magic ritual. I can still feel the spell working even days later.

So, what are we doing next?