Make-up artist François Nars first blipped on my radar, in the late ‘90s, when a friend of mine wouldn’t leave the house without a tube of Scarlet Empress lipstick.  This awareness was then underscored, a year later, when I came to find that a number of my friends had sat for portraits, appearing in his 1999 book X-Ray (for which Nars had also served as photographer and art-director).

Fast forward to 2015, and NARS – now a globally recognized leader in haute maquillage – has opened a boutique at the Forum Shops at Caesars; and to celebrate, W was throwing a party with blogger Marta Pozzan a’tweeting and a’posting; while Toronto-based fashion illustrator, Michelle Vella drew the “high-art caricatures” for which she’s known, using the party’s guests as her subjects.

I picked-up one of NARS’ Radiant Creamy Concealers, in “Honey” (to diminish the dark bags I carry-around, under my eyes), and a NARS Larger Than Life Long-Wear Eyeliner, in “Rue Bonaparte” (a light almond shade, that when worn inside the eyelid, will evoke alertness when I’m actually exhausted).  Hey!  Don’t judge me.  Forty ain’t easy; especially when you look fifty!

Having one’s maquillage attended to, while nibbling on macaroons and sipping on Champagne isn’t too shabby of a way to pass an evening; to be sure – but I had to get me one of those illustrations, because, let’s face it, I love me.

Now, Michelle Vella’s illustrations (that owe a decided tip of the Treacy to Francesco Clemente) are fun, vibrant, and sexy – and, almost invariably, they look like their subjects (which is good, because if they didn’t, she wouldn’t have much of a career).  But for whatever reason, when I sat in her chair, and she gazed upon my cherubic visage, it was the face of silver-screen legend Joan Crawford that she saw looking back at her.  Who knew that, through the eyes of a Canadian artist, my being a short, chubby Jewish guy with a receding hairline would translate to Joan Crawford?  And not just any Joan Crawford.  Not Joan Crawford in The Women, or even in Mildred Pierce.  Nope.  Old, bitter, end-of-her-career Joan Crawford.  Yup, I was Joan Crawford in her final film, the campy sci-fi cult classic, Trog!

Don’t get me wrong – if I’m gonna be accused of channeling the spirit of some dead Hollywood icon, I could do a lot worse than Crawford.  Sure, I’d rather it be Bette Davis, or Roz Russell, or Hedy Lamar.  But, to riff on my pal, Jimmy James, if my only choices are the stars of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, and I can’t be Baby Jane, I might as well be Whatever!

Regardless, I took it to the framer, the next day.  Why?  Because, like every other piece of art in my house, there’s a story behind it; and whenever I see it, Michelle Vella’s rendering of me will invariably put a smile on my face.  And isn't the sign any great work of art its ability to evoke emotion? (Hint: the answer is 'Yes!')

NARS
Forum Shops at Caesars
Click HERE for info

Get into it!