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Rayne Storm | |||
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Rayne Storm
In the beginning...
So at one point in time my name was Cleo Johnson. I know it’s disgusting. Thank god for the legal system and the ability to legally change ones name. I am now known as Rayne Storm. Kick ass right? I grew up in Carcosa by “religious zealots”. Meaning I was forced to go to church, forced to wear plain jane clothes, no makeup until I was 16 (which coincided with my ability to date), and absolutely NO PIERCINGS. My body was a temple and George and Abby were the caretakers. Gag me.
I had a strict schedule and was forced to stick with it. Straight home from school, do your homework and chores and then brush your teeth say your prayers and go to bed. Well needless to say from 14, until I was kicked out at 17, I was a pro at hiding the devil clothing and whore makeup from my mother. I was also in my infancy of making hair falls, more on that in a bit. I was out on a date with Sledge (named so because he really knew how to hammer it home wink wink) when my parents caught sight of me and him together. They had no idea I was “goth”. Some call it emo. Whatever. Needless to say, they pulled me away and immediately called for the devil to leave me and tried to baptize me in the shower at home. I guess at the time acting like the water burned me and proclaiming that the husk known as Cleo had sacrificed her virginity to the Prince of Darkness was prolly not such a good idea. Oh well I was kicked out and then kicked it with Sledge at his place until I finished school.
So I hated school mostly because of the fascist teachers and the sheep that wandered the halls and the classrooms but hey I knew better. Squatting and wandering the streets like the punks is a quick way to get your ass killed. I knew some sort of education was necessary. I even went so far as to go to college. At least there I was accepted for being different. Ok so I hung out with freaks but when the freaks think you’re a freak you know your pretty original, especially since I was went into marketing. Thing was I had a plan of what I wanted do with my life and marketing and promoting is the kind of education I needed.
My friends say that I am socially schizo. Which is cool I get that totally. Just to give you an idea, I have three different bedrooms. There is the girly, sickeningly sweet, all pink room with Hello Kitty gear and skulls with bows. Then the techno/hip hop room. I haven’t figured that one out completely, like part of it is a Baby Phat, Louis Vitton, Dolce and Gabana-esque nightmare but it has like futuristic, stainless steel touches. Then there is my goth rock dungeon. Dark demented and, if you’re a lover of mine, prolly scary as fuck with all the hardware in it. It’s true to my roots, but a girl needs options.
So how do I make enough to have a three bedroom apartment? Well first find a worn out loft in an industrial district. Then make some money. It all started with my hair falls. The neon dreads or ribbons or clear piping, yarn, etc etc etc. I know I didn’t just quote the King and I. I made them for personal expression but soon I was making them for friends, then my friend’s friends. Then a couple more progressive salons wanted some pieces. Voila! Soon a posse of friends was helping me make fabulous hair creations. However, that’s not where it ended.
See when you look the way I do, people assume your fun, and they are right. I took some pages from the Michael Alig book of club kid fun and made a scene where it didn’t matter if you were a club kid, goth, raver, or hirajuku honey. The party and the money went to wherever the good word was. Usually I was looked on to give the good word. No demographic was left out for the people willing to party wildly. The party was only exclusive to the clubs and people throwing them. Thus it was more often than not I would take club owners money to swing the party in their direction. Unless it sucked then we swung right back out. Some owners were upset but hey we have standards and if it’s a club our mothers didn’t mind going into it wasn’t for us. Seriously though some owners got in my face but you love me or hate me I don’t compromise and I can turn into a bitch-master in 2 seconds. A mean stare and upset owners get out of my face. Bouncers on the other had….well. Soon not only was I picking parties I was throwing them. Promoting is fun and by no means will it make me a millionaire but it makes me above comfortable…very very very comfortable.
Things boomed a bit in 2003 with the movie Party Monster and the numbers of kids out to party rose. Taking another page from from Michael Alig, me and my close knit group were in search for the new drugs or as we liked to call them, confetti. Seriously we can go into any club and search and know who is a dealer and who is just a user. This kinda drew in all the wrong elements and there were some toes stepped on, on my part. There were times I would radically have to change how I appeared and dressed to avoid people looking for me. Its kind of a rush being able to slip in to a crowd of hundreds and disappear. Not to mention the personas offer me a little bit of anonymity. When you can change as radically from night to night as I do, its hard to give someone a pic of me and say hey have you seen this person.
People know of me but with my little group of freaks I hang with we are always getting mistaken for one another. Cops have a hard time looking at me in the face. Everything else is just so distracting I guess it’s easy to overlook the facial structure. Only people who are around me consistently can spot me approaching with a new look. On special occasions I do amp up my look to stand further apart. People who love me really love me, and people who hate me prolly wish I would die.
Then there is the occasional person I like to inflict my personality on. One of these guys is named Sunshine. Shit he is like a “brotha” but he has to have a bit of club kid in him with a name like Sunshine. Sunshine and Rayne. Its like DUH. How can I not try and bond with a person who is also named after a weather condition. Normally I have never been into the “ghetto scene”. Sunshine is deep in it but I am not opposed to expanding my horizons. A fan of hip hop I am not. Well sometimes I guess but I have to be in one of my plethora of moods.
Anyway so I inadvertently and innocently kinda get involved in some of his business territory. Well we had words. It was kinda heated at first but we eventually worked things out. What struck me though is its like he didn’t care that when he saw me I was dressed in more pink than Strawberry Shortcake at a Barbie Dream House Party. He treated me like a person. I try and treat everyone equally. The more I got to know Sunshine the more we shared a lot of the same basic ideals even though we came from different worlds. So I was intrigued and my persistent little storm cloud has followed him around ever since. Come to find out he likes to diversify just like I do. It is another plus in the Sunshine column. We help each other out when we can and now I think he has gotten used to me. THANK GOD. A girl needs some color under the covers on occasion. I keep losing the pale goth boys in my white sheets. Not to mention they wear as much makeup as me and I am tired of laundering pillowcases. Yeah I like Sunshine and he says we need to talk soon to discuss some things.
Oh boy!
Rayne Looks
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