Ett utdrag från Paul Stanley kommande bok ”Face The Music: A Life Exposed”:
Kiss Frontman Paul Stanley’s Precise Makeup Routine
BY PAUL STANLEY
The star-adorned KISS frontman Paul Stanley strips down in his new memoir—Face The Music: A Life Exposed, which hits bookshelves tomorrow—to reveal the highs and lows of life in one of music history’s biggest rock bands. It’s brutally honest, touchingly reflective, and reveals the secret to one thing we’ve always wanted to know: how he gets the face-painted star so damn perfect. Here, founding member Stanley—the original makeup-for-men aficionados—describes how he gets his look, in a condensed selection from Face the Music:
I sit down and look in the mirror, staring for a moment into the eyes peering out at me. The mirror is surrounded by high-watt theater-style bulbs, and on the table in front of the brightly lit mirror is a small black makeup case. We hit the stage in about three hours, which means it’s time for the ritual that has defined my professional life for forty years.
First, I wipe my face with an astringent, to close the pores. Then I grab a container of “clown white,” a thick, cream-based makeup. I dip my fingers into the tub of white goo and start applying it all over my face, leaving some space open around my right eye, where the rough outline of the star will be.
Once the white is on, I take the pointed end of a beautician’s comb, one with a metal point, and sketch the outline of the star, freehand, around my right eye. It leaves a line through the white makeup. Then with a Q-tip I clean up the inside of the star. I also clean up the shape of my lips.
I collect my thoughts and look into the mirror again. There, staring back at me, is the familiar white face and black star. All that’s left to do is empty a bottle or two of hairspray into my hair and vault it up to the ceiling. And put on the red lipstick, of course. These days, it’s hard to stop smiling when I wear this face. I find myself beaming from ear to ear, content to celebrate together with the Starchild, who has now become a dear old friend rather than an alter ego to cower behind.
Outside, forty-five thousand people wait. I picture taking the stage. You wanted the best, you got the best, the hottest band in the world… I count in “Detroit Rock City” and off we go—me, Gene Simmons, and Tommy Thayer, descending onto the stage from a pod suspended forty feet above as the huge black curtain drops and Eric Singer beats the drums below us. Fireworks! Flames! The initial gasp of the crowd hits you like a physical force. Kaboom! It’s the greatest rush imaginable. When I get out there on stage, I love to look out and see people jumping, screaming, dancing, kissing, celebrating, all in a state of ecstasy. I bask in it. It’s like a tribal gathering. KISS has become a tradition, a ritual passed down from generation to generation. It’s an amazing gift to be able to communicate with people on that level and have so many of them out there, all of them, all of us, together, decades after we started. The smile will not leave my face through the entire set.
Best of all, that smile will remain on my face as I walk off the stage to return to the totality of my life.
Reprinted with permission from Harper Collins. Excerpted from the prologue of Face the Music: A Life Exposed by Paul Stanley.