Defying Gravity

Posted: May 27, 2011 in Photography
Tags: , , , ,

Meeting Audrey Hepburn and seeing Wicked = a sizeable chunk of my bucket list completed within the space of 12 hours.

Being London, it didn’t take long before we ran into some famous faces…like everyone’s favourite sparkly vampire, Mr. Robert Pattinson.

And Harry Potter.

And Lady Gaga. No big deal.

She’s so over me.

The reason these have to be waxworks at Madame Tussauds? I’d clearly be dying if I were this close to the real thing. (Also her hair was lavender with that outfit, not pink). They actually released eight different Gagas across the world on the same day, each sporting a completely different look. London’s Gaga is wearing her outfit from Friday Night with Jonathan Ross: a custom Armani suit, complete with Philip Treacy telephone hat!

Captain Picard!

Nicole Kidman’s sculptor was at a natural advantage, being that she already botoxed herself into an expressionless mask years ago.

John…loves…Christina Aguilera. To the extent that he actually made me go to the cinema with him to see Burlesque. And at home, just last night. (The worst part? It’s entirely self-inflicted. I bought him the blu-ray for our anniversary.)

His adoration did, however, make this all the more hilarious. It also sparked our game of finding a celebrity taller than John, of which there was but one in the whole museum. Any guesses?

The answer is not Keira Knightley. Oh, Video Diary…I thought even you would recognise me.

I actually think John and Keira have very similar bone structures…which I utterly failed to demonstrate by placing his head at a completely different angle in that photo. More obvious here maybe?

Some likeness were a lot better than others. Orlando Bloom’s, for instance, was shit.

Carrie Fisher, asked to list 10 things that gay men should know about straight women, answered: “We don’t really care that John Travolta is gay” …and has continued to out him in every interview since. Oh, Leia.

Morgan Freeman: freakishly realistic. Easily the most true-to-life one there.

Cheryl Cole’s was also uncanny. Small recompense for being sacked from the American X-Factor yesterday for her accent.

The more I read about Posh, the more I actually quite like her. There are few things more charming than self-awareness, especially when a woman can admit, “I’ve never been that good at anything, to be completely honest.” What she is quite good at, however, is styling: which isn’t especially well represented with this cheap-ass wig.

Have you ever noticed how young Cheryl Cole looks identical to present-day Joe McElderry?

As with Robbie Williams, this one is for my mum…who’s seen Titanic more times than is humanly healthy.

Tragically, their Angelina is a complete mess.

I’m fairly certain both of her eyes face the same direction in real life. Oh well: this clearly means I’ll just have to get a picture with the real thing next time.

“You know, even though we’ve watched Pretty Woman, like, thirty-six times, I never get tired of making fun of it.”
“Oh, I know. Aww, poor thing. Look, they won’t let her shop. Yeah – like those salesgirls in Beverly Hills aren’t bigger whores than she is.”

I have a theory that Johnny Depp is only attractive to straight people. Discuss.

omg you guys, Susan Sarandon and I have the same crow’s feet! The only difference being that I’m 27 and she’s 64. Also, that mine are worse.

Several cocaine scandals later. Kate Moss has been relegated to the backroom.

Elle MacPherson: who, despite being Australian, is the host of Britain’s Next Top Model (where she frequently comes across as a cunt).


Or somebody’ll say, “Lisa, what a nice hat you have on!”
I’ll say, “Thank you very much, but my name is Liza. And that’s my hair.”

True story: I have, on multiple occasions, felt inspired to write a ‘Liza with a Z’-esque number to teach the correct pronunciation of my surname:
“It’s Liddell with an ‘ell’, not Liddle with an ‘le’,
’cause Liddle with an ‘le’ goes ‘əll’ not ‘ell'”

Aishwarya Rai…who sort of looks like a girl I know named Innis. Only Indian.

Robin Williams was good, but I wish they’d made his skin look a little more porous. Actually, that same critique would have improved pretty much half the models there. We also noticed a trend whereby the older the waxworks were, the shittier they looked. Case in point:

…the recently-added Daniel Craig

…vs. the long-standing Harrison Ford. I’ve (quite literally) seen better Indie lookalikes at Disneyland. None, however, were worse than Jimmy Dean, who looks like one of those shitty animatronic dummies they have on the side of theme park rides.

Thankfully Judi Dench was there to raise the bar.

She was, however, encroaching on my trademark eyebrow.

Robert Downey Jr: also freakishly good.

Ditto Whoopi. Oh god, I just watched Sister Act a few weeks ago for the first time since I was like 10 years old…and I loved it so. embarrassingly. much. Like…loved it 😐

Za Governator: still not taller than John. (And just in case you thought I was cheating with perspective…)

I watched The Prince and the Showgirl recently to give Marilyn one last chance to win my affections. Sadly, my heart will always belong to…

…Ms Audrey Hepburn. ♥

Only one person in this picture has Audrey Hepburn’s eyebrows…and sadly it ain’t Audrey. The likeness was, otherwise, amazing though.

Literally the only film I haven’t seen of hers at this stage is the 1957 TV movie, Mayerling. The first person to find it for me wins my undying love.

I consider it one of the greatest tragedies in life that is the closest I’ll ever come to meeting Audrey herself.

“I never thought I’d land in pictures with a face like mine.” ♥

12 cabins, 12 vacancies.

Digital counterpart to this. Now if only they’d put half as much effort into Hitchock himself.

So that one person taller than John?

Prince William. 😐 (Who, granted, is standing on a podium, but still measures 6’3 in real life.)

BBC News this week: “Queen visits horsebreeding centre.” Charles’ bedroom?

What did Stephen Hawking say when his computer crashed?


I imagine Kylie’s waxwork has about as much facial mobility as the real thing.

Michael Jackson slash John Hensley.

Leona Lewis looked awful. I don’t know if that means it’s a bad likeness or if Leona is just a dog.

Do you think she looks back on Rehab and just cries?

Britney’s tits looked fake as hell. Which, ironically, made her waxwork terribly realistic.

If it weren’t for the outfit…

…I genuinely would not have known this was Beyoncé. The whole music floor, in fact, was kind of a disaster.

The makers of the Margaret Thatcher life story have said they are putting it on hold until she dies to ensure a happy ending.

This sort of looks like a caricature of Obama rather than Obama himself. Does his chin really look like that?

I can’t presently look at this without thinking of Lars Von Trier’s recent indiscretion.

Bypassing the sporting personalities entirely, we found ourselves in the “Chamber of Horrors”, which showcases everyone’s favourite serial killers and murderers. One can exit this area one of two ways: through the back door, or via “The Scream” experience – a live-action, actor-led scare maze. Naturally, I forced John into doing the latter. The premise goes that several serial killers have been let loose in the chamber, leaving you to navigate the winding corridors…largely by following the screams of the people who went in before you. I thought it was hilarious. John…a little less so.

The decapitated Beyoncé in a box made for the perfect finish (and, ironically, was a much better likeness than the one on the main floor.)

Post-Tussauds, we were treated to a fantastically tacky, “It’s a Small World”-esque ride out of the museum. “The Spirit of London” took us through the history of the city, from Tudor times through the Great Fire all the way to the swinging sixties. I think this picture perfectly captures how hilariously awkward the experience was for everyone involved. Exiting through the gift shop, John bought himself a London mug with a 2 litre capacity. I don’t know if it’s intended as a gag gift, but he drinks tea out of it on a daily basis.

221B Baker St.!

Baker St. tube station is decked out in full Sherlock Holmes regalia.

That very afternoon: Wicked at the Apollo Victoria! And, if we’re being completely honest, the real reason I went to London. The minute our plans for NYC fell through, I was on the official website booking our tickets. Just you and I, defying heterosexuality.

Before we went in, I went off in search of a place to send off some postcards along with my Japension forms (being somewhat horrified to read that people were already receiving their money when I hadn’t even gotten round to filling in the application). This took – I kid you not –the better part of an hour. London, how is it possible for you to have 3 Uniqlos within eyeline of each other but I had to walk a mile to find the nearest post office?

Regardless, it was finally time for…

…front-row seats at Wicked omgomgomg!

Well, technically second row, but the people directly in front of us didn’t show up ’til Act 2. This was my first ever time seeing the show, and though I would sell a kidney to see Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel in the lead roles, Louise Dearman and Rachel Tucker did an amazing job of Glinda and Elphaba respectively here on the London stage. Some of the dialogue is even (I assume) altered to fit the British actors: like when Glinda explains that they “went to uni together”.

There was a lone, middle-aged gentlemen ahead of John and me, who seemed desperately excited to share the magic of Wicked (which he was seeing for the fourth time) with the two of us. I think he spent half the show looking back to make sure we were getting the jokes, loving the music and sharing his much-expressed appreciation of Fiyero. It was kind of desperate, but mostly sweet.

The show itself, however, surpassed even my most rabid expectations. John bought me the programme/CD-pack before it started, which I’ve been listening to incessantly for the better part of three months. A few of my favourite lines:

Glinda: I know you don’t want to hear this but someone has to say it: you are out of control! I mean they’re just shoes…let it go!

Both: There’s been some confusion, for you see, my roommate is…
Galinda: …unuuuusually and exceedingly pecuuuuuliar and altogether quite impooossible to descriiiiibe
Elphaba: …blonde. 😐

The Wizard: Elphaba, where I come from, we believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. We call it history.

“What’s in this punch?”
“Melons and lemons and pears.”
“Oh my!”

…and pretty much the entirety of Popular.


We left the 2pm matinee performance, and I literally had to fight the urge to buy tickets for the next one at 7.

Meanwhile: on the train ride home, Faces in Places continued.

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