Halloween's over but this city isn't done with the dead yet — Latin night at Piranha and I'm halfway through my face paint with no intention of finishing it neatly. The dress already knows it's losing. Tell me if I walk out the door like this.
Halloween's over but this city isn't done with the dead yet — Latin night at Piranha and I'm halfway through my face paint with no intention of finishing it neatly. The dress already knows it's losing. Tell me if I walk out the door like this.
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Everyone else is winding their Halloween down. I'm just getting warmed up — black and gold, heels still on, and a locked door between me and the rest of the night. Want to see what I do when nobody's supposed to be watching?
Every witch in this city copied my look tonight. Only one of them is the real thing. Think you can handle meeting her?
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The veil between worlds is thin tonight and I've been in my ritual space all afternoon working myself into exactly the right state. Purple lace, candles, and things I only show after the door is locked. Ready to see what I summoned?
Half mask in one hand, gown not even zipped yet, and Phantom doesn't take the Smith Center stage until tonight. Some music was written to make a woman want to be worshipped in the dark. Tell me if the mask goes on or stays off.
Tearing my closet apart for something green for Charli XCX tonight — the floor lost that fight first. Tell me honestly if this passes the dress code.
Halloween weekend starts in five days and I've got the whole lineup pulled from the decks — the problem is this costume keeps losing the argument with my mirror. Come help me pick what stays on and what doesn't.
This robe barely survived my first cup of coffee, and Tom Jones hasn't even opened his run at the Wynn yet. Some voices just make a woman want to misbehave before the day starts. Tell me which song you'd loosen it further for.
Boy Harsher at House of Blues tonight and I've been pulling cards since the sun came up — the deck keeps telling me trouble. Cold coffee, black lace, and a city still too slow to keep up with me. Tell me you'd survive the front row with me.
Downtown's about to get loud — Corey Taylor's playing a room the size of a garage tonight and I'm dressed like the front row of the pit is mine. This lace doesn't leave much to the imagination, and I'm not sorry about it. Come hold my jacket while I lose my voice.