Life in a small mountain town means it’s not unusual to be recognized. But to hear my name when dressed up in an ostentatious ruby dress and black fishnet stockings, a magenta-and-bubblegum-pink-boa draped across my back and over my elbows, a cerise silk ribbon tied around my throat and vermilion lipstick—to look nothing like myself, yet stand out in kodachromatic vividity whilst hearing my name was abnormal.