There is probably a general consensus among most of us about clowns, but after seeing one in broad daylight at a local Starbucks, I wanted to devote some time taking a closer look in to a very confusing profession. Last Saturday morning, I was peacefully sipping on a skinny vanilla latte when in he walked. Painted face, red nose, polka-dotted pants, the whole enchilada. Granted, an odd feeling usually accompanies seeing people in costume out of their usual work-environment (ie: Mall Santa in grocery store), but there was something especially creepy about this sighting. I find myself struggling to pinpoint where such discomfort comes from. What is it about these seemingly cheerful characters that gives us goose bumps? The best conclusion I have reached is somewhere between the domestic animal abuse in Airbud and the fact that no one REALLY knows who’s under that mask…
Side note on photo: Regretfully, at age 10, I agreed to be transformed in to a clown in front of my 5th grade class. My second grade teacher, aka Giggles, occasionally posed as one at various school events and birthday parties and chose me as her subject. Weird.
