Personal Narrative Essay

Descriptive Essay

My nose is overwhelmed with the smell of hairspray, baby powder, and a fruity perfume. There are too many girls in here, all struggling and fighting for a space near the mirror that covers the entire back wall. It’s dim in here, but it’s a good kind of dim, almost calming. The only light is coming from the round vanity bulbs that line the top of the mirrors, making it so that the fluorescents don’t impair what natural light reveals. I make my way to the red lockers on the right, squeezing past two of my fellow giggling cast-members as they try to make their way out the swinging door. After opening my locker, personalized with my name stickered on the front in purple sparkly letters, I get out my bulking make-up bag and curling iron. My eyes dart across the room in search of an available outlet, hoping one even still exists within the chaos. I look around the base of the walls near the white and blue tiled floor, trying not to get annoyed at all the hair straighteners that are just sitting there unused and warming. I roll my eyes and
I finally spot someone unplugging her phone charger from the wall and jump on the opportunity to steal an outlet before anyone else notices. I set my curling iron on the highest possible heat and click “turbo-mode.” I will apologize to my hair later for the abuse. The counter beneath the mirror is covered in bronzer powder, used eyeliner pencils, and countless lost bobby pins. I slide my arm across the objects askew making them into messy pile in the corner. This isn’t my ideal “getting ready” station, but it’ll do. I’m just grateful to have secured a spot near the mirror and outlet; you’d be surprised how stressed one can become when they don’t have a place to get ready thirty minutes before it’s time to take places on