Glam Quotes

Glam culture is ultimately rooted in obsession, and those of us who are truly devoted and loyal to the lifestyle of glamour are masters of its history. Or, to put it more elegantly, we are librarians.

Oh, come on, just this once," Eve said. "Protects your neck. As in your arteries and veins? That's kind of crucial, right?" "Thanks for the thought, but it doesn't go with my shoes." "You're seriously going to worry about what people think right now?" "No, I'm worrying about people taking pictures and putting them on Facebook. That crap never dies. Kind of like you, Mikey." Michael, straight-faced, said, "He's got a point, because I would definitely take pictures. So would you." Eve had to grin. "Yeah, I would. Okay, then. But you'd look glam. I could fix you up with silver eye shadow to match.

I laughed and pointed out that "Hash Browns Mean Nothing Without You" was a pretty good name for a band. "Or a song," the Duke said, and then she started singing all glam rock, a glove up to her face holding an imaginary mic as she rocked out an a cappella power ballad. "Oh, I deep fried for you / But now I weep 'n' cry for you / Oh, babe, this meal was made for two / And these hash browns mean nothing, oh these hash browns mean nothing, yeah these HASH BROWNS MEAN NOTHIN' without you.

You're seriously going to worry about what people think right now?" "No, I'm worrying about people taking pictures and putting them on Facebook. That crap never dies. Kind of like you, Mikey." Michael, straight-faced, said, "He's got a point, because I would definitely take pictures. So would you." Eve had to grin. "Yeah, I would. Okay, then. But you'd look glam. I could fix you up with silver eye shadow to match.

time never stops, but does it end? and how many lives before take-off, before we find ourselves beyond ourselves, all glam-glow, all twinkle and gold?

It's better being lonely than having friends that secretly hate you.

Pretty That's what I am, I guess. I mean, people have been telling me that's what I am since I was two. Maybe younger. Pretty as a picture. (Who wants to be a cliché?) Pretty as an angel. (Can you see them?) Pretty as a butterfly. (But isn't that really just a glam bug?) Cliché, invisible, or insectlike, I grew up knowing I was pretty and believing everything good about me had to do with how I looked. The mirror was my best friend. Until it started telling me I wasn't really pretty enough.

A girl's gotta get her glam on when the world turns its back on her.

Well, MacKenzie, YOU’RE the expert on toilets! It’s only 8:00 a.m. and your BRAIN is completely CONSTIPATED while your MOUTH has a severe case of DIARRHEA! Please, go FLUSH!

Peo­ple are look­ing for how to put ev­ery­thing to­geth­er. They need a uni­fied field the­ory that com­bines glam­our and ho­li­ness, fash­ion and spir­itu­al­ity. Peo­ple need to rec­on­cile be­ing good and be­ing good-​look­ing.

Well, then, he ought to write her a letter. He ought to say: 'This is to tell you that I propose to live with you as soon as this show is over. You will be prepared immediately on cessation of active hostilities to put yourself at my disposal; please. Signed, Xtopher Tietjens, Acting O.C. 9th Glams. A proper military communication.

The Hawk’s keen nose is picking up the scent of a COWARD! Right . . . about . . . HERE!” he snarled, and pointed at ME!

Glamour could be defined as the lie you tell so well you believe it yourself, and make others believe it too.

Why was fabulousness important? The world was a scary, sad place and adornment was one of the only ways she knew to make herself and the people around her forget their troubles. That was why she had opened her store almost five years ago. Everyone who entered the little square white house with miniature Corinthian columns, cherub statues, and French windows seemed to leave carrying armloads of newly handmade and well spruced-up recycled vintage clothing, humming sixties girl-group songs, seventies glam and punk, eighties New Wave one-hit wonders, or nineties grunge, doing silly dances, and not caring what anyone thought. Weetzie loved the old dresses she found and sold, because they had their own secret histories. She always wondered where, when, and how they had been worn. What they had seen. Old dresses were like old ladies.

Comfort, companionship and realistic expectations…they didn’t sound nearly as glam as undying passion, but they were worth a lot more than most people believed

Both lyrically and sonically, glam metal is the sensible accompaniment for removing one's pants for money.

In the late 80s though, during the new Glam Rock, leather trousers came back with a vengeance. In a way they replaced Spandex, which had slipped slowly out of fashion due to bands like Saxon never being out of the stuff. These new leather trousers began to develop accessories such as tassels, sequins, and laces up the sides. This all looked quite nice for a while, but in the end they were just another easy target for Kurt Cobain and his subversive cardigans.

Pop culture didn’t actually need an Andy Warhol to make it postmodern. Rock ’n’ roll was never anything but a faked-up blues—something that the glam-era Bowie had understood perfectly. (Eno: “Some people say Bowie is all surface style and second-hand ideas, but that sounds like a definition of pop to me.”)

glam rock and progressive pop, preferably British and often of the androgynous variety: David Bowie, Sparks, Mott the Hoople, Steve Harley, Marc Bolan, Small Faces, Roxy Music, with Suede as a contemporary bookend.

There are garments in all of our wardrobes we don't wear because we don't dare. We bought the jumpsuit for when we were feeling brave and it turns out we never are. A friend of mine had a party and asked us to wear that thing we already own that we never dare wear and it was the most wonderful night. One woman wore her bridal gown. Others wore more cleavage than clothes. Some wore glam rock shoes and velvet capes. Others, tight jeans and crop tops. Some, cosplay cos times. We were all given permission to say yes to our most daring selves. The one we leave hanging up at home. You don't have to be queer to leave the best part of yourself in the closet. Most of us are doing it all the time,

Whatever happens, we've got your back, girlfriend! Unless, of course, the crowd gets mad and decides to tar and feather us. Then, I'll be leaving you in the dust!

The lady sitting next to me makes eye contact and smiles. She’s grandma age and wearing a statement glam necklace. “How long have you been together?” I choke on water. Full-on spit up all over my dress. “We’re not,” I cough. “Sure, sweets. Sure.” I blame the matching outfits.

Over the previous few weeks, I'd finally perfected the Julia St. Clair wedding cupcake: classic lemon cake with a hidden heart of my mom's boldly flavoured passion fruit filling, slathered high with Julia's favorite vanilla buttercream icing and glammed up a bit with sparkling curls of candied lemon rind.

I can’t help it. I’m SUCH a DORK!! !!

time never stops, but does it end? and how many live/before take-off, before we find ourselves/beyond ourselves, all glam-glow, all twinkle and gold?

Maureen Dowd, who wrote, “A.O.C. wanted to get glammed up and pal around with the ruling class at an event that’s the antithesis of all she believes in, a gala that makes every thoughtful American feel like Robespierre…

SHE WAS A KNOCKOUT. A stoned fox. I’d never seen her before. Not one of the cutesy Irish Barbie Dolls I normally fell for, this was something of a different class altogether. No disco glam or sparkles or fashionably trashy stripper chic. No make-up or slutty, revealing outfit. No desperate, tits-in-your-face “notice me” B.S. This was something pure and earthy -- fresh as newly cut grass. The smoking-hot girl next door, but yet completely of another world and time. A true classic.

Here we are in our finery, playing at the venerable Gasworks. Deep in the throes of glam, we’d change into our sequins and studs in a tiny dressing area situated beneath a restroom, which more than once leaked through the ceiling, forcing us to go onstage redolent of urine.

Alright, sweet Ivy. You get yourself all glammed up and I’ll take you out on a date tonight, but…” I look up at him. All gentleness is wiped from his face. “If anyone touches you, I’ll cut their fingers off and shove them down their throats.” Yeah, Atlas doesn’t do sweet at all.

I AM !! Jealous much?!

We are all making it up as we go along, unmaking our minds and remaking ourselves.

crush,

ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT, BABY! GOTTA ROW TO THAT FUNKY BEAT, BABY!” she howled. “DANCING DOWN THE STREEEEEEEAM!

Facebook!

Totally-awesome-completely-unbelievable-too-good-to-be-true-exciting-wonderful thing #2: I WAS CROWNED SWEETHEART

ME, PRACTICING IN THE STUDIO WHEN AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR DROPS IN

NIKKI, I CAN’T WAIT TO SNEAK UPSTAIRS TO PLAY OUR SECRET GAME!” she screamed excitedly. “I PROMISE I WON’T TELL MOM AND DAD A THING! AND, MUH, MUH, MUH, MUH . . 

CHASE

I Feel Love,” by Donna Summer, and this had a profound influence on how I perceived music from that point on. Additionally, it led me toward a greater appreciation of disco; Chic were now filed next to the Clash in my album collection. These elements, merged with many other stylistic references, formed the basic blueprint for Duran Duran: the raw energy of punk, disco rhythms, electro pulses, and the panache of glam rock, which was already deeply embedded in our consciousness.

Opening a small metal box, she added a pinch of blue salts to the syrup mixture and blew on the cauldron. A burst of smoke puffed up, sending a dusting of glitter particles spinning in the lights. He turned his head to follow the twinkling trail, and she slanted a sideways smile. "Magic." "Predictable chemical reaction," he returned, examining the box of salts. "And once again in your company, I have glitter in my hair." "And your stubble. Bit of technicolor glam to liven up the grays. You're welcome.

Aren’t you bored though? I mean, I grew up here. I know what it’s like. Once you’ve had a taste of the city, it’s hard to come back.” “I mean, Calgary isn’t exactly Paris,” I quip because she’s acting like it’s some glitz-and-glam place. “But what do you do all day? I’d go crazy. That’s why I had to get out, you know?” “No, I don’t know,” is my reply, because my patience is wearing thin, and my personality only allows me to keep my mouth shut for so long. The pressure is mounting and giving into my redhead streak is hella appealing right about now.

You're—personally responsible for The entire strip to be washed away Cleansed, as if gallons of, um, rubbing alcohol Flowed through the strip and were set on fire It didn't just singe the hair, it made it straight And then Perry Ellis came along with his broom And his silk And he— He erected a beautiful city A city of stars

In record time, I’m out of the shower, hair dripping, my T-shirt sticking to my still-damp body, running out the door to the SUV in the driveway. My dress and Logan’s tux are waiting for us at the palace, where the glam squad will make me presentable. Harry, a young, carefree security guard with shoulder-length brown hair, argues with Bartholomew, a bulkier bodyguard, in the driveway. “You don’t have it in you, mate.” “Oh, I have it in me—you can believe that.” I have no idea what their pissing contest is about, but I don’t have time for it. “You’re both gonna have my foot in your asses if somebody doesn’t drive me to the palace right now!” I yell. They both look shocked. And then they move their asses. “She’s kind of a violent little thing, isn’t she?” Harry says to Logan as he climbs in the backseat with me. Logan just laughs. And looks at me. “You’re going to make a good mum one day.” I shake my head at him. “That’s what you got out of my statement? Really?” “Sure—you sound just like Tommy’s mum and she’s the best one I know.” And something occurs to me—something we haven’t talked about yet. “Do you want that one day?” I imitate Logan’s accent. “To be a da?” “I do.” His face softens. “As long as you’re the mum, I’d like very much to be the da.” My stomach gets warm and fluttery. “Me too. Should probably make me a Mrs. first, though.” Logan kisses my palm, smiling. “That’s the plan.” Good to know.

When I say we, I'm referring to society: copywriters, companies, and overall general opinion; I am in no way taking personal responsibility. We/they market to women like they are giant toddlers. This endless, pejorative, female-targeted infantilization of the English language when it's directed toward women: "Mama Bear needs her beauty rest!" "Rockstar gal gets her glam on!" "Work it, she-entrepreneur!" "Be a diva-licious ass-kicker in stilettos! The biggest, badass, boss-babe in herstory! The fiercest, she-matologist working in the blood lab!" This pervasive rhetoric is basically watered down, digestible empowerment designed to get a woman's money. It's the advertising equivalent of a "Live Laugh Love" sign.

SGTCWGC GUIDELINES HOW TO GET CAUGTH 1. Text and read texts openly in class. 2. Look at your phone and laugh. 3. Wear clothing without pockets. 4. Forget to silence your phone. HOW NOT TO GET CAUGTH 1. Text without looking at your phone. 2. Sneak a peek at your phone and respond later. 3. Wear a sweatshirt with a front pocket or carry a purse to conceal your phone. 4. Know where your teacher is at all times.

Our family?” I stab back. “This isn’t a family. When was the last time we were a family, and I don’t mean in a glammed-up, phony interview? Family doesn’t abandon each other at tough times. Families don’t pick and choose the parts to love. Families fight for each other no matter what tries to break them apart.

He’d

deeply.

With its glass walls, you can enjoy the view even when it’s raining. It has a huge outdoor terrace with a panoramic view across the city, but the big draw is that you are up high, directly in front of the ‘cricket cage’ balustrade of Brunelleschi’s dome. Just between you and me, the Folco Portinari–Dante connection had me sold before I even arrived. It could have had a view of the men’s toilets and I still would have been thrilled, just because I love the Alighieri-Portinari story! (See Chapter 23: A Walk With Dante.) My first time here was with the city archivist I told you about in the chapter on the Duomo, so I associate this place with cool local 30-somethings with fascinating jobs in the city and endless stories about Florence, dating back to Julius Caesar. Caffeteria della Oblate is a little tricky to find, but that means the tourist crowd can’t find it either, so walking around in circles trying to get here is worth it. And of course, there’s that view… Address: Via dell’ Oriuolo, 26

Antica Cuoieria.

Glitz and glam aren’t really for me. I function best at home in my pajamas, pretending I’m not emotionally attached to my couch.

Fifty Best Rock Documentaries Chicago Blues (1972) B. B. King: The Life of Riley (2014) Devil at the Crossroads (2019) BBC: Dancing in the Street: Whole Lotta Shakin’ (1996) BBC: Story of American Folk Music (2014) The Weavers: Wasn’t That a Time! (1982) PBS: The March on Washington (2013) BBC: Beach Boys: Wouldn’t It Be Nice (2005) The Wrecking Crew (2008) What’s Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A. (1964) BBC: Blues Britannia (2009) Rolling Stones: Charlie Is My Darling—Ireland 1965 (2012) Bob Dylan: Dont Look Back (1967) BBC: The Motown Invasion (2011) Rolling Stones: Sympathy for the Devil (1968) BBC: Summer of Love: How Hippies Changed the World (2017) Gimme Shelter (1970) Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World (2017) Cocksucker Blues (1972) John Lennon & the Plastic Ono Band: Sweet Toronto (1971) John and Yoko: Above Us Only Sky (2018) Gimme Some Truth: The Making of John Lennon’s “Imagine” Album (2000) Echo in the Canyon (2018) BBC: Prog Rock Britannia (2009) BBC: Hotel California: LA from the Byrds to the Eagles (2007) The Allman Brothers Band: After the Crash (2016) BBC: Sweet Home Alabama: The Southern Rock Saga (2012) Ain’t in It for My Health: A Film About Levon Helm (2010) BBC: Kings of Glam (2006) Super Duper Alice Cooper (2014) New York Dolls: All Dolled Up (2005) End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones (2004) Fillmore: The Last Days (1972) Gimme Danger: The Stooges (2016) George Clinton: The Mothership Connection (1998) Fleetwood Mac: Rumours (1997) The Who: The Kids Are Alright (1979) The Clash: New Year’s Day ’77 (2015) The Decline of Western Civilization (1981) U2: Rattle and Hum (1988) Neil Young: Year of the Horse (1997) Ginger Baker: Beware of Mr. Baker (2012) AC/DC: Dirty Deeds (2012) Grateful Dead: Long, Strange Trip (2017) No Direction Home: Bob Dylan (2005) Hip-Hop Evolution (2016) Joan Jett: Bad Reputation (2018) David Crosby: Remember My Name (2019) Zappa (2020) Summer of Soul (2021)

Ten years after Peters’s discredited “Brand Called You” article, the iPhone launched, and soon enough, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube were at our fingertips. Suddenly, everyone on those free platforms had the tools to fashion a personal brand—quirky, glam, edgy, nerdy, revolutionary—and project it well beyond their own circles, all for the low, low cost of consumer tech and some well-chosen accessories. The age of the influencer was upon us.

Any other girl at La Brea High would have been flattered to have him pursue her. They found his laid-back scruffy look irresistible, even with his bad reputation as a heartbreaker. Serena had caught him staring at her in English class and had wondered what he wanted with her. She wasn't the glam type of girl he normally dated, not with her combat boots, black fishnet hose, and graffiti-painted nails. But it didn't take much to realize he had a huge crush on her. He always seemed to show up where she was. At first Serena had been impressed that he wasn't the kind of guy who judged a girl by the way she dressed. She might have even dated him if she hadn't discovered the truth. He lied about the girls he had gone out with. It wasn't as if Serena didn't know guys did that. She knew they exaggerated sometimes, but Jerome did more. She couldn't confront him or even tell others what she knew, though, because no one would believe her.

I glared at her. “Well, MacKenzie, YOU’RE the expert on toilets! It’s only 8:00 a.m. and your BRAIN is completely CONSTIPATED while your MOUTH has a severe case of DIARRHEA! Please, go FLUSH!

kids

Vaughn Manor rose in front of them: a three-story monstrosity of white stucco, gleaming windows and terracotta tile. Palm trees lined the drive on either side, providing little shade but lots of glam. Neighboring homes were at least 50 yards apart. Some of them might have been closer, but there was a good chance this house ate them.

Well,

Sounds

If your Judge Imposter obscures your ability to see beyond surface glam, you never experience people for who they really are. I’ve also traveled enough to know two things about beauty: (1) It is truly in the eye of the beholder (along with the judgments in the beholder’s mind), and (2) it is informed by the culture you grew up in: what’s judged as beautiful in one culture might be bland or uninteresting in another

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Hannah made up a bunch of lies saying that Hannah was obsessed with her and some kind of creepy stalker.

FUNKY

Frank and the Transylvanians might be participants in a glam rock concert. Frank indulges in sexually provocative posturing while wearing women’s underwear, and has bisexual romps with Janet and Rocky. This, alongside Magenta and Riff Raff’s possibly incestuous relationship and their deliberately mysterious and grotesque presence, could be seen as an extension of the glam-rock personas of the early 1970s. Eddie, on the other hand, is a leather-jacketed, motorbike-riding character, originally played in the United States by Meatloaf, but often characterised as looking and sounding like Elvis. This characterisation relies on the folk or country blues associations of a nostalgic rock’n’roll sound in ‘Whatever Happened to Saturday Night’. This is regarded as passé within glam rock and he is killed. Janet and Brad are associated with the lighter pop sound of ‘Damn it Janet’, which from a rock aesthetic might be regarded as superficial. Brad is made to appear insignificant and foolish, while Janet’s musical language adapts as the plot develops. Rocky’s ‘The Sword of Damocles’, draws on associations of sensuality through the use of rumba patterns and prefigures his overwhelming sexual activity.

So cry yourself a river, build yourself a bridge, and get over it!

Superheroes are like...a Band-Aid, right? Slapped over symptoms of a way bigger problem. But they don't heal the symptoms. Just hide 'em.' Whether it's Superemacy or poverty and drugs and everything else Jav blogs about, it can't be fixed by beating people up in the street. Wild that anyone thinks that's a solution. 'Lyss, you wanna be a real hero, then forget all that crime-fighting bull. Stay here, help folks who really need it. Plenty of them around Bridgebrook. Do—I dunno, social work and soup kitchens. It's not as glam, but it does way more good.

so no matter how glam this cunt is, right now, he looks like he belongs with me.

GLAMAZON

things!!

Happily there are ways to keep costs down and sustainable kudos up – like Lofty Frocks’ vintage fabric library, or the growing numbers of free patterns and tutorials available to download from sites like Hobbycraft and so-sew-easy.com. You can always do a Sound of Music with an old pair of curtains (try charity shops), or follow the lead of blogger Kari Greaves, @east_london_style, who upcycles vintage finds into entirely new pieces, like a kind of glam high-fashion Dr Frankenstein.

SMELL.

spring break.

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I don’t think it’ll be necessary. I’m the distraction. The more glam I am, the less focused they’ll be on your incisive questions.” He paused. “Glam I Am. Now there’s a Dr. Seuss book I would’ve enjoyed as a child.

Grabbing her black Glam-Aholic tote and duffle bag from her trunk, Torin closed it and entered her home after closing the garage.

What I have seen of The Act is limited to a clip that was played during one of the prime-time award ceremonies. I think it was a scene of Joey on a bed with a cell phone; it was so far removed from my reality, it was hard to be sure what I was looking at. I just remember seeing Joey glammed out on the red carpet, the stark contrast of our lives casting a dark shadow over me. Here I was in my prison cell wearing my prison uniform, eating my disgusting prison food, while Hollywood celebrated itself.

Look under Nicodemus’ hood to see a self-portrait of Michelangelo.

Like her, they’d been raised on YouTube and swipe-right screens. On every billboard and music video, there was the unattainable fantasy, curated personalities, skin smooth and shiny, glammed up and spray-tanned, and she knew it was all fake, a media creation or whatever, but it was still effective, still teasing some high-school not-belonging part of her. That was even more infuriating: to know it was a lie but to want to believe in it anyway. To

Yep. You’re right. Come on. Let’s go find Glam-ma.

Is that him?” Matt asks from right beside my shoulder. His chin is almost resting on my shirt, and I don’t try to move him away. “You know?” I ask. He nods. “I’ve always known.” “What?” The breath that I was holding escapes me in a rush. “Friday and I used to spend a lot of time alone together in the shop.” He shrugs. “We talked.” “About that?” I can’t believe she told him. “When Pete did her tattoo,” he says. He looks at me sheepishly. “We both knew. We didn’t and still don’t know details, but we knew she had a kid.” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I’m irked. I can’t help it. He shrugs. “Wasn’t my story to tell.” I wish someone had fucking told me. “You were so busy trying to get into her pants that you didn’t really get to know her. Not the real her.” “That’s not true,” I sputter. “Yes, it is.” “No, it’s not.” “Yes. It. Is.” He glares at me. “You saw the glam girl that everyone else sees.” “There’s so much more to her than just that.” “You were fucking Kelly, so you didn’t really have room for anyone else.” He’s right. I scrub a hand down my face. He’s so right. “Okay,” I say. “He’s cute,” Matt says. He nods toward the audience. “Her son. He looks like her.” “He’s a lot like her. In a lot of ways.” “Is he the reason she stopped talking to you?” Matt asks. “Sort of.” I scratch my head. “You think she’ll talk to you today?” “I’m not going to give her a choice.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Good.” He looks at me for a minute, blinking those blue eyes at me. “Anything worth having is worth fighting for.” I fake a punch to his shoulder. “I’m coming out swinging,” I say.

Calling MacKenzie a mean girl is an understatement. She’s a cobra with hoop earrings, blond hair extensions, and a spray-on tan.

Chloe came up with the crazy idea that we should work SUPERhard in class and earn our black belts by the end of the month. Then we can start a secret crime-fighting team called the Dorky Defenders! She said that superheroes lead very romantic lives, when villains aren’t trying to KILL them. After hearing THAT little detail, I wasn’t exactly sold on the superhero lifestyle. Having to deal with MacKenzie is quite enough drama, thank you. I don’t need any more villains sabotaging my life.

My bad!" She giggled. "Sugar makes me chatty.

You don’t belong here, Maxwell! You’re just a pathetic little FAKE, and I’m going to expose the truth to the entire WORLD! So you better watch your back!” Then she cackled like a witch and sashayed away. I

Experimenting later, in a coffee shop toilet, I discover that I have acquired a couple of raking-tools-cum-hairgrips. Also a tube of mascara: something called Glam'Eyes Lash Flirt, a product which would attract me more had it been less reckless with its apostrophe.

Success =
 Know your music backwards. Tune-up. Be healthy. No booze & drugs rehearsing/performing. Glam up. & Avoid the No1 cause of band break-ups; don't sleep with fellow musicians!

Addison,” Taylor said quietly. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Corbin really cares for you?” “What? Don’t be silly.” I frowned. “I’m just a conquest to him—it’s a feather in his cap to be able to say that a non-glam Auditor is his consort. It’s like… like a mobster showing off his girlfriend who also just happens to be a cop or a judge.” “Maybe not.” Taylor looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard rumors about Corbin.” “Such as?” I raised an eyebrow and made a go on signal with one hand. “Well, he’s not nearly the playboy he makes himself out to be for one thing,” Taylor said. “He’s almost never with anyone—he mostly keeps to himself except to feed occasionally. And he never pays the Crimson Debt or lets anyone else pay it for him.” “Meaning he doesn’t feed on anyone during sex or let them feed on him?” I said. She nodded. “Honestly, I don’t think he has that much sex at all. Not even glam-sex.” “Oh come on, Taylor—he’s a vampire,” I objected. “Sex and blood, that’s what they’re all about—that’s what they do.” “Most of them maybe. But if what I’ve heard is right, Corbin mostly keeps to himself.” “But why?” I asked, frowning. “I mean, it’s not for lack of willing partners, I’m sure.” He got under my skin like a bad rash but there was no denying Corbin was gorgeous. “I don’t know why, exactly.” Taylor shrugged. “They say he had someone once—a human—but he lost her. Now he mostly keeps to himself out of respect for her memory.” I thought of what he’d told me, about having a human female he loved enough to be gentle with once and how she’d “died anyway.” “Why didn’t he just bond her to him?” I asked. Vamps can bond any human they want, which greatly increases the human’s lifespan, sometimes even enough to match the vamp’s. It makes them a little more durable too, though under the law they’re still not supposed to have sex with the vamp that bonds them. “I don’t know.” Taylor shook her head. “But I do know you’re pretty much the only girl he’s shown an interest in. I mean, he does a lot of casual flirting, you know?” “Yeah, I know.” I nodded. Nobody was better at eye-fucking than Corbin. “But none of it amounts to anything. I mean, I’ve never heard of him taking anyone into one of his daylight resting places the way he took you. Not vampire, not human—no one,” Taylor emphasized.

You come to a wedding, you should dress with the dignity of a funeral, because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever see the couple again, and who the fuck knows when they’ll see you again. So you get your look right, you don’t glam it up, you don’t whore it up, even though it’s Las Vegas. No one ever got kicked out of a place in Las Vegas for dressing elegantly.

Don’t do that,” Corbin whispered, looking into my eyes. “Don’t talk yourself out of feeling for me.” I frowned. “How do you know what I was thinking? Are you trying to glam me?” He looked frustrated. “No. I’m trying to make you care for me. But it appears to be an uphill battle.” I shrugged. “Those are the breaks. Maybe you should have fallen for someone who hasn’t seen what vamps can do—how violent and destructive they can be. Or maybe you should just glam some other woman into thinking she loves you.” He frowned. “Is that what you think I want? A false love? A woman who only thinks she cares for me because I manipulated her mind?” “It’s what a lot of vamps seem to want,” I pointed out.

And another hour to scrape seven of them off the stove, floor, and ceiling. . . .

And with me, Mom, and Dad out of the way, Brianna would have unlimited use of my CELL PHONE and get to eat her favorite meal—a big bowl of ketchup, raisins, and ice cream—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

that fateful night at Glam, they were sharing Gabe’s

Who is the world’s longest-serving monarch of all time? ‘Queen Victoria’ people will say, ‘But Elizabeth II is catching up’. Wrong! Sobhuza II’s reign of Swaziland began in 1899 when he was just three months old. During his reign, worldwide events that took place included the First World War, the Second World War, The Moon Landings, the birth and death of Glam Rock and Disco, and the invention of the compact disc (just!). On the day of his death, the 21st of August 1982, Sobhuza II had reigned for an incredible 82 years and nine months!

The WASP style was often portrayed on TV and in movies as a sort of archetypical American look, and some of my new friends seemed to subscribe to it. I decided I’d try it too. I’d tried other looks previously, like Glam dude and Amish geezer, so why not this one?

This place is nice. Nothing like I expected,” I murmur.  Ronan laughs, his arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him. “The rich and famous, Rabbit. They pretend their depravity is fine, unlike the average person, because of the glitz and glam. Anything to deny they’re like every other person on the planet.

SPLITS?!

just stared at it suspiciously. Garbanzo beans? And what exactly is a gooseberry?

that glam-band dream-balladry of that Argentine band that Evil Elvis used to listen to (Babasónicos!).

Bryan Ferry would abandon overt glam threads in favour of classically tailored tuxedos, US military uniforms and an infamous gaucho look. Ironically, Ferry then began to draw a considerable gay male following while Eno, slavered in cosmetics and done up like a camp Christmas tree, became – much to his own satisfaction – an unlikely object of lust for legions of adolescent girls.

for glam and goth and boys who liked glam and goth.