Meg Rowles
Stories (1/0)
Putting the Extra into Acting
It's so hot and I'm stood here in five layers of vintage clothing sweating absolute buckets. Along with the musty, moth ridden smell that lingers within my armpits, I peel away the sleeves that stick to my wet skin. Yes! I thought, this feels so good. This 1940s aqua coloured cardigan is finally being relieved from its clammy occupier. The feeling however was short lived; as soon as I go to pull at the neatly sworn buttons a flurry of makeup artists swarm me, correcting my sliding cardigan back onto my shoulders. "Let’s just fix your wig my Love" "How are your feet holding up?" "What colour lipstick do you want?" I stand there grinning, holding my clammy hands awkwardly, trying not to hold too much eye contact with the lady waving a peach coloured lip gloss at me. I did admire her eye colour for a short few moments, before realising again where I was and how I was trying hold my head towards the circulating air around me, doing my best not to pass out. Oh no! I glance once more at her light green eyes before a wave of black dots invaded mine. It was like a swoop of a cape surging over my sight. I know what some of you are thinking... Pass out... that will be hilarious... Thankfully I don't, and this colourful lump stays on her feet for three glorious more seconds... then you guessed it, I hit the deck... Blackout.
By Meg Rowles6 years ago in Journal