SPARKLE TV: The Most Raw I Ever Was

Yes—I delivered this tribute to my brother: “THE BEARDED CHEERLEADER” on the last Sunday of September, in the ~brat green~ Santa Monica garden of my fabulous cousin’s gorgeous home; a giant sexy streak of black kohl eyeliner smeared down one side of my face—making me look more like a fallen MMA fighter than a grieving little sister—but that’s okay because no one was a bigger fan of UFC than Blake—and he would’ve *loved* that I waxed poetic about him in front of his esteemed work colleagues—with cage-fighter black eyes.

“It’s actually a good look on you, Z” I can hear him saying earnestly, sinking his teeth into a bacon egg, and cheese from Dunkin. “You should lean into THAT.”

The truth is—I’d actually consider leaning into cage fighter chic eye makeup—because I worshipped Blake and took his “avante garde” ethos of style and beauty very seriously; like he was a hairy forty-something Julia Fox—which come to think of it—in many ways he was.