Sophie is actually just leading a mime workshop. I know, right? Mime. I guess when you’re deep into the craft of mime, you don’t have time for styling long locks. A mime’s best friend is a wash ‘n’ go hairstyle–after a black leotard and white face paint, of course. Let me just say that I’m not too keen on whiteface, any more than I am about blackface, or a combination thereof.
By the way, did you know that mime did not die out with Marcel Marceau? They have mime schools (yes, plural) in Paris, France. Another reason for me not to go to France.
Oh, yeah, that’s not creepy at all.
Holy crap, he makes freaky clowns look like Care Bears.
I’d rather wake up to a man in Gene Simmons’ Kiss make-up than any of this crazy smeared mess. Do you know how traumatizing it is to an elementary age child to have to watch Shields and Yarnell (RIP Yarnell) dressed as Sonny and Cher on TV, doing what would later be called “the robot” by breakdancers?
They even disgraced the cover of my beloved Dynamite.
I wonder if they made out like that when they got home? All stiff like the tin man, with a laugh track playing in the background to help their self-esteem. You’ll have to youtube them yourself; I’m not poisoning my blog with any more memories of mimery.
I Don't Get It 