It was upon moving to New York City from my hometown of Pittsburgh that I first noticed this strange phenomenon. In Pittsburgh, I mostly rode around in a car driven by my mother or father. But in New York, arriving at the age of 19, I walked the streets and rode the subways, mixing with the citizenry of the famous city. It was then that I first became aware of it. People continuously stared at me! Or they yelled out comments ... or mumbled them under their breath as they passed. Or they simply made faces—grimaced, smiled, laughed, looked puzzled, angry, bewildered, amused, or showed disdain and contempt. Or, they would pass me and then stop to look back ... or look over their shoulder as they walked. For sure, traversing the streets of the great city, I seemed to create for others a mini-sideshow of sorts. But ... why were they staring at me? And why were they yelling out comments? And why were they making faces? I remember, many times, moving from the middle of the sidewalk, into a sheltered doorway, fumbling in my purse for my mirror, and then looking to see what was wrong. Why was I causing a commotion? “Maybe a bird has pooped into my hair?” “Maybe I have a huge, black spot of city soot on my face?” “Maybe my makeup is smeared in some amusing way?” “Maybe my hair has blown around to create some bizarre hair-do?” Such were my thoughts. But never could I find anything strange! I just saw my face ... as I had always seen it. Granted, I did wear a lot of makeup—an almost white makeup base, green eye shadow, black mascara, pink rouge, red lipstick, and heavy black eyeliner, top and bottom. But New York had lots of theatrical people—actresses, Broadway dancers, theater performers—who wore makeup. I didn’t think my makeup to be that extreme or outstanding in any way. Indeed, I had seen far more interesting makeup than mine!