I saw Zombie Prom on Lori's facebook update last year and not only thought it looked fun, but was sad I missed it. So this year when I heard on the radio (thank you 97.5 Now FM) that it was Friday night, and we were planning on doing something, I jumped on it!
The thrift store didn't have much for an interesting dress to rip up, so Megan had the good idea to go with something sassy and cheap from Wet Seal. I haven't been in that store since high school, but we definitely found sassy + cheap there. I went with a loud animal print that Megan and a teenager in the dressing room helped convince me was a good idea.
In my google searching of zombie costumes I avoided anything that said to use Spirit Gum since I have had terrible skin reactions to it, there is a lot out there that talks about water soluble liquid latex. I did an early tester on my hand and it didn't irritate me at all and was comfortable on my skin. The only thing is you do have to have patience with layering it on since it takes time to dry.
I did a fast and loose job but I really wanted a gash or two so I tried this "cheap" way of making gashes with toilet paper and layering liquid latex. http://www.wikihow.com/Look-Like-a-Zombie (Scroll to the bottom of this link to see the video. It makes a lot of sense!) It worked pretty well, I would probably put some skin-toned foundation on the toilet paper when I do this again so that I don't have to slather as much white makeup on my skin to even the edges of the toilet paper.
I got tons of compliments on my cheap "going out" zombie dress, we danced all night and a huge thanks to Sprial Dance Bar for putting on the zombie prom and having good DJs!
(Hopefully pictures to come soon!)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
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