Bright lights, big noise. The curtain pulled back to reveal a bevy of showgirls. They seemed to pulsate with the kind of energy one would expect from a neon sign. In a womb of dim red lighting, feather boas, and broken hearts, they sashayed from one mirror to the next. Like painters and sculpters, they applied and reapplied their lotions, powders, lashes and rouge. Covered in sequins and pearls, each girl flounced about in her costume like a bird whose wings had been clipped. The glamour was overwhelming, hitting anyone who walked in like a wave of diamonds.
There was the brunette from Missouri, apologetic and warm. Her diamond eyes fixed on the photo of her Jack before each show. Then there was the redhead from Chicago, jealous of her own shadow. She sat alone, her own reflection seemed her only friend. And then there was the blonde from Nevada, living the rhinestone dream. Both her mother and grandmother were showgirls. Her business was show business and the pressure of living a legacy of late nights and broken promises seemed to fade when she hit the stage.
When performing their bodies resembled ancient vessels carrying a king's ransom. With every choreographed turn or bow across the stage their trunks, teaming with gold, would spill open and offer a glimpse to the pirates in the audience below...
For showgirls, or the rest of us who wish we were, MAC and Heatherette have joined forces. Luscious colours and sumptuous packaging showcase the high glamour and vibrancy that is Heatherette. For the showgirl in all of us, debuting this Spring.
www.Heatherette .com and www.maccosmetics.com