By: ‘Wednesday’ Tang
((Apologies for any missing photos – SL was not rezzing well at all))
I arrived at Chartbusters in full Wednesday Addams. Black parasol, black heart and an attempt at a blacker mood, although to anyone offended by my sass, it really was forced sometimes… Anyway, I was just in time to watch the red carpet unfurl over the back of a lorry like a tongue ready to lick up bad decisions, such as possibly the one I was making to appear here.
Caisen, the manager at Chartbusters, had the mic, the music, and the rules: grab a bid card, grab a vote card, drop them in the boxes, and arrange your date with whatever ‘movie superstar’ you win. Efficient. Slightly ominous. Very Hathian. The costume contest was an added adventure – who had come ‘best’ dressed? A secret ballot would decide!
A Varied Lineup
The lineup? Deliciously chaotic. Night Bitch (aka Cliv) stalked the truck-bed ‘stage’ with a bat and a promise: “Hope y’all came here with fat wallets, ‘cause I don’t come cheap.” The bat clonked, the crowd whooped, I considered calling the cops already, but resisted. Chaos I reminded myself, is a Wednesday-ok-thing. My take? not so much a sugar daddy required, as a sugar punchbag…
Then there was Ciri of Cintra, who was going quite undercover. I didn’t recognise her… But she had a white wig pinned back, scar tracks, a blade at the hip; posture like a drawn bow. She didn’t smile… apparently destiny rarely does… In this image she had taken refuge (weirdly for Ciri) behind a Balrog of Morgoth. Or rather an HPD officer with a cute tattoo… ‘Memento Mori’…
It was announced that Tiffany Valentine was Bride of Chucky: sugar-white bustier, black leather, and murder-bride lipstick that could qualify as a felony in three states. She winked; half the front row reconsidered their life insurance. My take after the event? Nothing says commitment like ‘till death do us part’ and then a sequel!
Sayuri from Memoirs of a Geisha was next. Silk that flowed like water, geta clicking like metronomes in a tea house, hands folded with razor-calm poise. Caisen’s intro, about holding a gaze, landed; she didn’t break eye contact once. My take? Some people fish for compliments. She casts a net and drags your soul ashore…
Jessica Rabbit floated up like a cartoon fever dream scarlet sequins poured over a body-curve of a gown, thigh-high slit threatening to split the night in two, purple opera gloves tracing slow lines as she posed. A tumble of glossy red waves, a half-lidded look, and that hip-cocked, heel-click prowl turned the street outside the store into a potential crowd of accomplices (if she just but asked). Glamour weaponized…
Poison Ivy, vine-wrapped redhead, chlorophyll couture, and that ‘kiss-of-death’ pout. Glittered leaves clung where laws and common sense would prefer fabric. My take: Photosynthesis won’t save you from the heat in Hathian…
Valentino ‘Cake’ Dress (couture cameo): tiers, piping, and a bodice that looked like it could feed a small wedding party; the wearer even produced a cupcake as a treat for us every now and then. Commitment to the part, exquisite, even when she went for some crazy stage dance later with cake going a few places here and there. My take? I prefer my confections like my men cold and easily sliced. Still, fondant that fights back is pretty cool!
Wednesday (yours truly): black parasol, blacker mood, and the kind of walk that makes a eulogy feel under-written. I gave the crowd a smile you could cut your wrists on and told them, “Joy is vastly overrated.” They applauded anyway. If I could have, I would have let Thing hold the trophy so I wouldn’t have to. I don’t do winning.
Assorted rogues & romantics: a couple of slasher darlings in thrifted menace,and one gladiator whose sandals tried to unionize halfway up the step. The betting line writhed; someone dropped a phone, someone else dropped standards, surely someone dropped panties (but probably round the alleyway).
Accepting ‘graciously’
Ballots vanished into a shoebox. A beat. Another. Caisen milked it; the crowd loved it; and then the envelope cracked like a tiny thunderclap. Best Dressed: Wednesday Addams. I inclined my head. Anything more would be vulgar, while somewhere behind me the cake dress whooped, Ivy blew a toxic kiss, and Night Bitch knocked wood like we’d just summoned a lawsuit.
If you voted for me, thank you for your poor judgment. If you didn’t, I respect your commitment to being wrong. Either way, Chartbusters delivered a matinee of couture and chaos, and we all left a little stickier with sugar, sweat, and second-hand bravado. Date-night winners will be announced later, apparently romance requires tabulation. In the meantime, file under: violence, couture, and questionable life choices for even being here and course, when one wins something for being in character and costume, it’s best to keep it going..
“Best dressed. How tragic. I always aspired to ‘most unsettling presence’ or ‘least likely to be invited back’… Thank you, I suppose. It’s touching to be rewarded for what I normally call ‘getting dressed.’ But then, mediocrity does love to applaud itself when it sees the real thing…”
Daiyu ‘Wednesday’ Tang
Putting aside a character, many thanks to Caisen and the record store for hosting a really fun event!
