Christmas and the Death of Some Luggage
Over a decade ago, I was working intermittently in the stage show at The Box—a notorious nightclub and late-night theatre on the Lower East Side in Manhattan—as an aerialist. Sometimes I would have a 10pm coffee in the Bushwick apartment I lived in, powder and glitter flying around as I did my makeup at home. On those nights, a sludge of glitter would collect at the bottom of the coffee cup like Turkish coffee but, you know, fabulous. I’d wonder whether I should tip the sludge into a saucer and try to scry whether I was damaging my body by drinking the glitter.
(Yes, sometimes I checked to see whether my poop sparkled.)
Other nights I’d drag my makeup into the theatre with me and paint my face there. Since I often left before the venue closed, and patrons collected on the sidewalk by the backstage exit to smoke, leaving was almost part of the show. I invested in a beautiful train case for those nights, and swanned out of the theater looking as glamorous as I had on stage.
After maybe seven years the lock broke. It was one of those objects that’s so fancy it comes with a lifetime guarantee. The catch was that repairs were done at the central workshop in the UK. Several weeks later I had a functioning train case again. I moved to Serbia. The case came with me.
Serbia does Christmas on the 7th of January. Due to the Communist history of the region, New Years is the real gifting holiday, but we start Christmas decorations just after Halloween and continue into the new calendar year. Lydia loves Christmas. Due to the confluence of these factors, my Instagram and OnlyFans are on Santa-esque holiday time from 1 Dec through 7 Jan.
That’s a lot of holiday content.
First I photographed myself in front of my “soft goth” all grey Christmas creatures, gathered around my Pachira tree (because who has room for a cut evergreen in a pot?). Then Melanie Dawson, former Jacques magazine pin-up, helped me out with a remote shoot along the vibes of “non-skier in a ski chalet refusing to ski.” At some point during the lead up to holiday festivities I found a Santa hat themed lingerie set, and did more selfies in that.
Finally, Lydia decorated for Christmas, putting up a classical evergreen with red and gold baubles. I packed up my lingerie, nails, and the makeup box and headed over to make some more content. After two sets at her place, she told me a neighbor had an even bigger tree and had given permission for us to take photos in front of it.
When we arrived at the neighbor’s apartment, the makeup box wouldn’t open. The lock was broken, again. Lydia asked whether I was sure 1-2-3-4 was my code. I was sure. She said it wasn’t a safe code. I said apparently it was too safe, since we couldn’t get the box open. We debated whether or not to ship the box to the UK. I needed the sparkling Christmas ornament nails and red makeup grade glitter which were inside now, not in several weeks.
I called out for the owner of the apartment. Lydia corrected my grammar. I asked whether the owner knew how to break a lock, saying “Znate li da kako da… ne znam kako se kaže… break a lock?” He said “Fortunately I am a locksmith.” He and Lydia asked whether I was sure I wanted the lock broken. I said yes, I was sure. Yes, I was really sure. Yes, I was really, really sure. He popped the lock off.