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**I just received Picnik Premium today (Aug 31st) to put all this together. These photos were taken last week, so they weren't put off until now.. Please know that**

So here's the rest of the story:

Amira, along with 50 other models/drags, had to design a dress for Hayley-Anne Campbell's fashion industry. Only a few of them didn't end up giving there entry, and Stewart Bradleys was one of them.
Being so excited to get her design sketch in early, Amira entered hers without adding her name to the bottom.
Amira did not think she would come first place out of about 50 models... so, she didn't really care about attending the awards. And when it was time to annouce the winner, Amira was absent at the awards as she went to visit her grandma in hospital.

Bradley, knowing that he didn't have any designs to use, went to see Hayley-Anne Campbell to sort something out. They were discussing why he couldn't get his entry in on time and he came up with a solution; to take someone elses' design. Ofcourse, Hayley was furious to hear what he was saying. How dare he! She ordered hime to leave the room immediately.
..But only 15 minutes later, he came back in with an idea. He told Hayley he would pay her large sums of cash if she could pick out a design to call 'his' and allow him to publish it in his name. He offered her 30% of the profit if this design gets published. She thought it over for a bit, then agreed to hid deal. "Ok... that's.. good enough for me. I'll be back with my favorite design in a bit.. and hand it over to you to modify.." And so, she picked out her favorite, Amira's design, and handed it over to the wicked and arrogant, Stewart Bradleys.

That night up on stage, Hayley-Anne Campbell called out Amira's 'Black Butterfly' to be the winner.. But instead of calling out Amira's name, she called out Stewart's! Yes, Stewart's name was on the sketch! .. And not only did she call out his name, but she called this wonderful design "The Shadow Butterfly", and not "The Black Butterfly".. Why? Because Stewart Bradley got to Amira's design and modified it to his taste.

The next day, Amira went back to the fashion industry to find out who the winner was. Surprised, she saw Stewart Bradley wearing a dress that was VERY similar to hers. "There must be some mistake?" She thought.

Still confused, Amira went to see Hayley-Anne Campbell. "Umm.. Hayley...may I please have my design back?"
Recognising Amira, Hayley responded nervously; "Well.. no! We need to keep them. Out, I've got work to do "

Surprised at Hayley's response, Amira quietly left the room and walked over to the photoshoot area, where Stewart was looking glamorous in that dress and posing for the camera. Then, Amira noticed an image on a poster just above Bradley that look awfully familiar; her sketch! The only difference was, the stars on the dress were rearranged, it was called "The Shadow Butterfly" and Stewart's name was on it! Amira gasped and covered her hands over her mouth. The tears came trickeling down her cheecks.. she was a mess.

Still upset, Amira went back to visit Hayley. She barged through the door and stomped in. "Bradley stole my design!"
Hayley looked up at Amira's teary face and hesitated. "What?! He did not. Can you please leave, I've got work to do.. Oh, and NEVER barge in my office when I'm busy again. You knock next time!"

Amira paused for a moment and thought over what had just happened. It didn't seem real to her. She was so confused and overwhelmed by Hayley's response.. again! Hayley, her idol was being rude to her.. and for what? She started realising that Hayley might have had something to do with the situation.

"But it was MY design!" She yelled. "PLEASE believe me! I made the whole thing.. from the stars to the name. How could this happen?! I called it The Black Butterfly!"

Hayley responded hastily; "Stop talking, I don't believe you! Get out!"

Amira's brain got cloudier and cloudier by every response she got from Hayley. Feeling useless, she broke down in tears.
Hayley just stood there, watching. She looked at Amira 3 times, then looked away again.

With a long pause in between the two, Hayley finally spoke up. "Ok... Would you like to wear Bradley's design and complete the photoshoot with him? Would that make you feel any better?"

Amira looked up; "Well..... just a bit.. No, no! It won't! That design is MINE!"

Hayley snapped; "AMIRA! Cut it out! It's not yours.. and the only way you can succeed in this industry is if you do what I ask you.. or you'll be fired. Now, wear the dress. Go! Ron and Claire will do your hair and makeup"

Amira didn't know what else to say. She just could not speak.. But without thinking clear enough, she, just like she had always done, obeyed Hayley and left the room.

Highest I know of on Explore!... #233 on 11.4.07

I loved Halloween as much as anyone else when I was a kid. The costumes. The candy. The festive atmosphere in our close-knit neighborhood. The way the adults really got into it on our street. As I recall, some years the parent who was with the kids carried a mug around which was filled with a shot of something or other every few houses, and the parent who was at home dispensing candy had a bottle of something to be filling those mugs for the neighbors when they came by. My mom preferred to be the one at home, so she could see all the costumes the other mom's had made and compare them to her own creations of the year (there were five of us), but also because she used to dress up as a ghost and loved to scare the trick-or-treaters before she'd part with their candy.

When I was old enough to make my own costume I started going as a gypsy fortune teller. I devised layer upon layer of color and pattern and ruffle, had a black curly wig and giant gold hoop earrings I used year after year, and stuffed the bosom with socks until the year when I- prematurely at 9- didn't need to anymore. My mom uncharacteristically let me put on a ton of make-up (in real life she made me wait until I was 16), and I spent weeks before the event each year inventing "fortunes" I would bestow upon those who favored me with candy. Even today, when we go to halloween parties, I'm apt to go as a fortune teller and sit in a corner telling wild and decidedly more inventive fortunes to the other attendees.

About the time I started studying costume design seriously in college, something weird happened. I began to enjoy dressing other folks up for the holiday more than I enjoyed dressing up myself. I used to teach stage make-up, so always had dorm-mates, or later friends, who- knowing I could do it- would imagine themselves elaborate fantasy characters, and I would help them realize them. It was fun, and still is on the rare occasion when I get asked. These days my make-up kit is so old it would be unhealthy to use, so folks have to bring me their own.

Now that I'm middle aged, though, so few of my friends are into the whole costume and party thing that I don't often get to either practice with the makeup or get dressed up myself anymore. Most of my halloweens are like this year. Giving out candy to the neighboring kids and watching the dvd of Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas.

But as my personal Halloween experience wanes (maybe that's why I got so much into taking photos of it this year) I find that my interest in the Hispanic celebration of The Day of The Dead seems to be increasing exponentially. I just love the idea of that holiday. Taking the time to celebrate the lives of those who've died. Creating altars to the dead loved ones. Making special breads and sugar skulls. Lighting candles. And- though I've never done it- I love the idea of going to the cemetery to sweep off the graves of your relatives and friends, with a celebratory picnic afterward. I adore the iconography. The music. The remembrances.

So this year I made a little altar of my own. I don't have photographs of all my deceased loved ones, but I have some. As a buddhist I didn't want to put up a Catholic cross, but instead I made a symbolic one out of some of the photographs. I remembered to put out some tequila for the adults and toys for the kids. Put on some music. Found a skeleton in my studio. Lit the candles.

And remembered. My mother's yodelling. My dad's grin. Aunt Fran's festidious fashion sense. The time Uncle Gaylord lost his false teeth over the side of a boat. When Spence was the first friend I ever had who died. The great grandmother I hardly knew. How grandma used to bake me empty pie shells. How Aunt Jean came on the train for visits with a full suitcase of presents. And so on. And so on. And so on. It was fun! I think this just might have to become an annual tradition for me.