#168 - Party
Barely a week goes by when Rev doesn’t act like the party girl she is. In fact, from Wednesday through Sunday, it’s almost all she does, even if she’s out of town on a job. Paris, London, Tokyo, New York - it doesn’t matter. Her fellow models, the photographers, everyone knows where the party is and they’re more than willing to let a pretty girl with a reputation like Rev’s know where she can have a good time.
Of course, whether or not she actually does is another story. She gets tired of the same old scene quickly. The music starts to sound the same and the clubs and hotel rooms all begin to look alike, and when you’ve been hit on by one strung out rock star after another, the charm fades as fast as the mist in the canyons of Los Angeles on a summer morning. But it’s part of who she is, what she does and it’s expected of her. Doing what’s expected is what keeps you out of the media spotlight. It’s when you start forging your own path, doing your own thing and other shit like that that the paparazzi starts to pay attention. And that’s the last thing Rev wants.
Forgetting is the first. Fading into the background of an opium and alcohol induced haze, feeling numb all over and letting yourself be taken over so your memories get lost and become nothing more than figments of your imagination. It’s almost enough to make you believe that’s all they really are and for those precious few hours, they’re not real. It never really happened. That’s the real party, and Rev needs it as much as air itself.
Of course, whether or not she actually does is another story. She gets tired of the same old scene quickly. The music starts to sound the same and the clubs and hotel rooms all begin to look alike, and when you’ve been hit on by one strung out rock star after another, the charm fades as fast as the mist in the canyons of Los Angeles on a summer morning. But it’s part of who she is, what she does and it’s expected of her. Doing what’s expected is what keeps you out of the media spotlight. It’s when you start forging your own path, doing your own thing and other shit like that that the paparazzi starts to pay attention. And that’s the last thing Rev wants.
Forgetting is the first. Fading into the background of an opium and alcohol induced haze, feeling numb all over and letting yourself be taken over so your memories get lost and become nothing more than figments of your imagination. It’s almost enough to make you believe that’s all they really are and for those precious few hours, they’re not real. It never really happened. That’s the real party, and Rev needs it as much as air itself.