September 29, 2014

The Lacquer Legion - September Challenge - Crisp - #LLCrisp

I know this month's challenge at The Lacquer Legion is supposed to be about the crispness of the Autumn season, but when I see the word "crisp" the first thing that comes to mind is the magnificent Quentin Crisp!

Born on Christmas Day in 1908, Crisp was openly gay and flamboyantly effeminate during a time when it was unacceptable, and even dangerous, to be so. Yet, he always insisted on being himself and refused to conform to what other people, straight or gay, thought he should be.

When I was in high school, a movie of Crisp's autobiography The Naked Civil Servant was shown on American television (thank you PBS). It made me a life-long fan of both Quentin Crisp and John Hurt (who played Crisp in the movie). One of my favorite scenes was when Crisp volunteered for the Army during WWII but showed up to the induction center with bright red polish on his fingernails and toenails. When asked why he thought he would be a good soldier, he said that he was British and patriotic and that it didn't take any special skills to get killed. The army rejected him.

For this design, I used these colors and decorations:
  • Revlon - Elegant
  • Sinful Colors - Under 18
  • Maybelline Color Show - Onyx Rush
  • Maybelline Nail Tattoos - The Skyline Collection

In 1981, Quentin Crisp moved to New York City and loved it so much that he spent the rest of his life there. Sting wrote "Englishman in New York" after he met Crisp and they became friends.


While living in England and again in New York, Crisp listed his phone number in the public phone directory and insisted on talking to anyone who called him. I told this fact to a college friend, who didn't believe me, so we looked up his number and called him! He answered on the fourth ring with "Oh, yes?" We spoke with him for about 10 minutes and he was delightful in every way. At the end of the conversation, he told us "Enjoy your young years, my darlings. They go by oh-so fast."

When Quentin Crisp died in 1999, I was genuinely saddened as if I'd lost an old friend. I can still see him walking through New York with his trademark fedora and scarf, smoking cigarettes with the holder he grasped in his delicate fingers with their painted fingernails—refusing to be anyone other than his wonderful self.

We should all be so brave.

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