Bobbi collaborates with me so that her makeup is perfectly consonant with my clothes. She never comes in and says, This is what I’m doing.” I show her the collection and we talk things over. Then I say go for it because I know she will look at each model and contrive to make her happy. When the models are happy, it’s going to be a good show. I wouldn’t call it conservative, but it isn’t flashy-dashy, either. I like makeup that doesn’t wear the woman.


00, for smirking when LJ spilled his coffee down his freshly-laundered tropical whites during the after-work debrief. Barry and I struggled to keep serious looks on our faces while John was roasted by LJ’s fiery blast before being sent to sugee the deck-head on the poop. Barry and I cleaned up then went down kept him company, sitting on the bits, watching, smoking and drinking cold Tiger beer we had brought from the bar, making fun of his sugee work as he scrubbed his detergent mix in vain over the years of accumulated grime on the deck-head. We offered helpful advice and John got angrier and angrier, to our delight. John’s meal was put in the pantry hot-press, a sort of warming oven, although Barry went in after we had dinner and ate John’s chicken portion, leaving a gnawed bone sitting in a mound of gravy and vegetables. John’s plaintive howl when he finally got his dinner, dog-tired after his 12 hours of labour, was both heartrending and hilarious. In port, everything changed: a different sort of work, more frantic, driven by the lash of commerce. Arrival took place early in the morning, more often than not at first light, between 06.00 and 07.00.

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