It is the distant future ... the year 2000 ...
As I wrote previously, with a party to go to, we decided to take the futureworld approach for Hallowe'en this year. I've always had a hankering for silver go-go boots and fuschia wigs, so these (plus a lovely shirt I found in NYC in August, plus a space gun that makes eight different realiztik sounds), became the basis of my costume.
I was going for the retro-future look; something that said "it's the Sixties and we think the future will be pretty kicky, babe."
What I got was more "Look at me, I'm mutton dressed as lamb! Hooray!"
The Boy said, "That's nice. I want to be a crap robot."
So we found some boxes, bought shiny paper and LED lights, rummaged around the Garment District for a shiny top and, four hours before we were due at our friends' party, started to pull the look together.
Oh. Turned out the shiny paper was actually clear cellophane; it just looked metallic on the roll.
So, with the clock ticking, we ran out to PaperSource and grabbed four rolls of totally sparkly wrap.
"You certainly like our glitter paper," smiled the saleslady as she charged me $32. Grrr.
Back home, we wrestled with foil tape and packing tape and Scotch tape. After a couple of hours, the apartment was frosted with loose glitter.
But we had created a totally fabulously crappy awesome robot.
I was going for the retro-future look; something that said "it's the Sixties and we think the future will be pretty kicky, babe."
What I got was more "Look at me, I'm mutton dressed as lamb! Hooray!"
The Boy said, "That's nice. I want to be a crap robot."
So we found some boxes, bought shiny paper and LED lights, rummaged around the Garment District for a shiny top and, four hours before we were due at our friends' party, started to pull the look together.
Oh. Turned out the shiny paper was actually clear cellophane; it just looked metallic on the roll.
So, with the clock ticking, we ran out to PaperSource and grabbed four rolls of totally sparkly wrap.
"You certainly like our glitter paper," smiled the saleslady as she charged me $32. Grrr.
Back home, we wrestled with foil tape and packing tape and Scotch tape. After a couple of hours, the apartment was frosted with loose glitter.
But we had created a totally fabulously crappy awesome robot.
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