Rockin for Rockaway had come to an end. I did it. Out of thin air, with a couple of friends in a couple of weeks, I had pulled together an impressive five-part live concert event with open bar, delicious catered food, and forty-something fifty silent raffle items on one of NYC’s best rooftops. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars to directly help victims of Sandy, and the night went off without a(ny major) hitch.
Throwing a benefit is an incredible way to connect with good-hearted, open-minded and motivated souls, and for that I am most grateful.
It’s also an incredible occasion for which to get a real fro, and for that I am also grateful.
After the music and dancing stopped and loose ends were settled post-event, I finally arrived home at three in the morning. My hair had settled into a restful state, and a sense of calm settled over me. The ongoing fundraiser-planning stress of the past few weeks had vanished. I hardly recognized this feeling.
This three-in-the-morning feeling did trigger something slightly familiar, however… something somewhat euphoric, something magnetic…
Gosh, what was it that I needed to do?
Oh that’s right… hey Rayray, grab the iPhone. This fro is not to be forgotten. It’s photo shoot time.
The fro lasted three days in total, and I loved every minute of it. The knotty, the flattened, the impossibly matted, and even the lengthy conditioning process to undo it all. It was mine. I did it: I threw a rockin charity event and a rocked a real afro.
ROCK.
Hair and makeup by Senses, lest you forget.
