C. and I spent Saturday afternoon transforming her into Amy Winehouse. You know someone is your good friend when they let you spend a couple of hours pointing multiple cameras at them. (Which is why the color profiles don’t match in these photos. I’m not smart enough to fix that yet.) You know they’re your bestest local friend when they send you home with a pound and a half of cheese, and not the yellow supermarket cheez either. Cave-aged, grass-fed, local Farmers Market stuff.

It’s a little hard to see here, but there are syringes in her wig and cleavage, plus slash marks on one arm. It was a lot of fun to watch her put it together. Her commentary on the whole thing is here, so go say hi.