When I lived in London during my junior year of college, there was a bar that my girlfriends and I used to go to called - I think - Peppermint Park. Or something like that.
This place was not even a tiny bit cool: it served neon, flaming drinks that created hangovers practically before they were drunk (and served them with zero sense of irony), had low ceilings and balloons and streamers tossed around, was populated solely by us and a handful of creepy businessmen-types clustered around the bar, and played all-'80s, all-the-time. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", "Walk Like An Egyptian", "Should I Stay Or Should I Go"…you get the idea.
It was - and might still be, a decade or so later - my favorite bar on the planet. Because when I'm going out for a night of dancing, I'm not interested in being cool; I'm interested in doing my best Kevin-Bacon-in-Footloose impression while wearing, like, knee socks or something.
This makeup is sort of like that bar.
