This video Coop was talking about was the most viewed upload out of all the makeup gurus in the history of YouTube. And I wasn’t going to upset my sweet, loyal demon’s apple cart by telling her Mitzy probably wouldn’t be able to give Coop the kind of attention Coop gives her.
Not if this line, stretching out and around the block on one of the yuckiest nights Portland had seen in a long time, was any indication.
Mitzy had a following I hadn’t quite expected. It felt more like the lines you saw for a Backstreet Boys concert back in the day. There were tons of not only teens, but adults, too, all dressed to the nines, their makeup on point, as Coop says, all here to spend a moment with their favorite guru.
There was no denying tons of people loved this just-past-her-teen-years, multimillion-dollar influencer who used makeup as a conduit to reach hundreds of thousands of viewers with a catchy greeting at the beginning of each video.
I think I’ve heard, “Hey, Glitzy Ditzies, It’s Mitzy here!” followed by her signature “squee!” at least a thousand times since Coop began surfing YouTube.
Coop watched her videos as though her very life depended on Mitzy’s every word. She even had her phone set to notify her in the event her beloved guru put up a new video.
However, I want to add, if this was the worst of Coop’s recent declaration to “live her best life,” I can live with it.
Somedays, now that Coop was more and more exposed to the world around her here on Earth, she was reminiscent of a teenager, discovering new things by trial and error. And I tried to cater to the fact that she was actually, in terms of life experience anyway, still a child in an adult’s body who’d never been to a prom or failed a test or had her heart broken.
Since she’d set her sights on soaking up all life had to offer, Coop had tried many new things while the rest of us hung on to her coattails for dear life and offered the occasional bit of advice to steer her clear of danger.
Though, one thing I’m eternally grateful for is the discovery she’s not a fan of alcohol. Unfortunately, she found that out the hard way—after a couple of shots of tequila and a drink called a Moscow Mule. She tried them both when she’d attended her first (and mine, too) underground party. Phew, that was a night I won’t soon forget.
A night that included a lot of really icky moments…
First, my Coop learned how ugly a hangover can be, to date, something I haven’t even suffered. Then she experienced some very unpleasant bathroom time (oh, heavens, so unpleasant) while Knuckles held her hair and I made something called Hair of the Dog with Goose’s instruction. Thereafter, she’d decided alcohol wasn’t for her.
Thank gracious, too. Not that I mind the occasional glass of wine, but I do know a thing or two about addiction, if you’ll recall, and I’m glad that’s something Coop won’t suffer.
This latest obsession with makeup was enough to keep up with—if I’d had to deal with something bigger than mascara and pore reducer (of which, mind you, Coop hasn’t a single pore), I’m not sure I would have survived.
But I’m here to tell you, she’s as gifted at applying makeup as she is at creating a stunning tattoo. Her knack for anything creative translates to her face and highlights her artistic flair.
Anyway, when she found out Mitzy would be in the Portland area for a meet and greet, there was no way Coop, who’d begun making a pretty good living since word got around about her famous tattoos, would miss purchasing the VIP package.
An all-inclusive evening with Mitzy.
Drinks—which, as I said, Coop planned to avoid for eternity—a free makeup session and color consultation, a swag bag full of Glitzy Mitzy swag, and a picture with Mitzy herself in a private setting, all on tap for tonight after the event.
Coop was beside herself with unmitigated joy. I, on the other hand, not as much. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Coop’s found an outlet for expression that doesn’t include anything dangerous—though, I have seen her watch, with great fascination, some skydiving videos recently—but makeup doesn’t give me the contact high it does Coop.
I am, however, a daggone good guinea pig when she wants to try a new look. According to her, I have the kind of coloring that allows for a varied palette of complementary colors. That’s also why I’m wearing false eyelashes tonight (falsies, for any newbs like me out there) as long and fluttery as butterfly wings, because I want to support my Coop, and I want to encourage her to live her best life.
I’d just like to do it without my vision quite so impaired—these eyelashes are like moth’s wings on top of my eyelids. But Coop insisted we gussy up for her idol. So with her help, I’d gussied up and practiced my squee.
I even put on lipliner and red lipstick—Blood of Thine Enemies is what it’s called, if you must know. I hope Higgs recognizes me when he meets us afterward for a late dinner date, because I don’t look anything like the tinted-Chapstick-wearing Trixie he knows.
Thinking of Higgs made me smile. We’d come a long way in these last months since he found out about the demon inside me and that his dog, and my owl, talk.
A long, long way.
A hushed rumble in the crowd and a sudden ripple of movement had Coop grabbing my hand,
