Forget WWJD.
WWPBT?
As in What Was Pat Benatar Thinking?
Had to shoot her last night for a university gig and out she trounces in cheezy auburn extensions, a bandanna on her head, bulky plastic hip hop boy pants and - get this - platform sneakers.
I nearly screamed but then I recalled that I never liked her or her music so I let her look completely odd, shot a quick 40 or so frames and split.
Her tshirts now have her and her hubby's name on them... like they're this equally hot pair of stars like Siefried and Roy or whomever those scary, Dr. Smith-looking guys are with the white tigers in Vegas.
And why do all men of a certain age who wear mascara come out looking like Dr. Smith of Lost in Space?
Another memory of last night.
Went to shoot Buckwheat Zydeco and in front of the stage was an errant blonde, also of a certain age, in 80s-era little layered dress and biking shorts underneath. She was out solo and was dancing for the band. I watched in great amusement as the guys watched each time she flipped her dress up and sent meaningful glances her way when they performed a song basically entitled 'She's My Little Hot Pepper.'
Two large drunk guys behind me decided to love this song and quickly caught on to the song's repeating of the key phrase so they grasped the two words - hot and pepper - and shouted that at appropriate intervals.
Tomorrow, Edgefest 9.
And amongst my photographic duties and such I'm running a Polaroid vending tent like ones I've previously fashioned with this one being more rock-related. I've got my 6' twin models running the show. I'm hoping that they'll know how to handle drunks that traipse in. Crowd control is key.
All for now.
Onwards.