Friday, June 28, 2002

Brand-New Glasses

I wish I had a webcam so I could show you my new glasses. My sister doesn't like them, but I think they're awf'ly cute, oval lenses in tortoiseshell-color wire rims and titanium arms and bridge...although they tend to slip down my nose so I look over the tops of the frames. I went in today to get a new pair, since my old pair was not only unflattering but were also rather scratched. Turns out that they weren't strong enough, either. My eyebulbs are steadily (though slowly) degenerating into myopia. Eventually I'll be as blind as a bat with coke-bottle lenses.

Anyway, it's terribly refreshing to see very very clearly again. I can see not only all the way across the street, but actually can catch details all the way down the street as well. I can tell if the guy walking toward me is cute before he enters my personal space. I can see the name of the street before I pass the intersection. I can watch television without ever squinting. O Bliss! O Rapture!

After I got my glasses, I got on BART and headed out to the City for some shopping. I'd got my heart set on two things: a brown leather satchel that is bigger than a purse but smaller than an attache, with a shoulder strap, for carrying the increasing number of loose objects that are suddenly cluttering my life (two sets of keys, cell-phone, glasses-case, etc); and a pair of cream or white dress slacks. Of course I found no such things. I never do find what I'm looking for when I'm hunting something really specific. But it's fun to hunt, anyway. I found a pair of winter-white Dockers that I almost bought, and I found a brown leather satchel that I almost bought, but neither was close enough to what I really wanted to be worth paying full price.

And this is what really shocked me: NOTHING was on sale! I mean, there were sale racks at Macy's, as there always are, tucked into the corners and carrying the leftovers from last season...but there were no departmental sales. There also weren't any sales at the Gap. It struck me as very odd.

The other thing that struck me as odd was the unusual number of fags wandering around (yes, I can say it). It seems people are all arriving early for Pride Weekend, or doing some last-minute shopping for that Just-Right Outfit. But there were simply Too Many Queens in Macy's...where nothing was on sale — do you think these can be related? None of the queens were in Ross or Burlington or Marshall's, though (discount stores are for straights, I guess).

Well, I'm very much looking forward to the Parade on Sunday. For the first time in my little life, I will actually be in the parade! I am marching with the Miss Gay Marin and Marin AIDS Project contingent, along with Miss Candie Swallows and Miss Romy Michele (the current and first Miss Gay Marins) and a bunch of go-go boys.

My problem is that I can't decide what to wear. See, Candie and Romy are going to be the only ones in the car, and I am a Contingent Monitor so must be outside of the car. If I am in drag, I will be the only drag queen in the contingent on the outside of the car, and I'm not sure I want to do that. There's something about the propriety of it that bothers me. It's asymmetrical, to begin with, two drags in a car and one on the outside. I will also be the only one without a tiara. I will also be the only one walking all two miles of Market Street in heels.

Not to mention that after the Parade I will be helping set up for the Living Sober dance, then going to the Pride festival to see Dead or Alive, Pansy Division, and Marc Almond perform (all within one hour, with fabulous fillers like Snatch and Oryon between), then heading back to the dance for a long afternoon of fun and schmoozing. It's a long day, and full-paint makeup has about six hours' shelf-life before it starts getting uncomfortable and itchy (it's funny, I usually get irritated by the makeup before the shoes, the wig, the girdles, or the dress). And then there's the attention...though it's really quite nice to have so many people paying attention to one, it does get a little trying after a while to pose for pictures that you'll never see or get copies of with strangers you've never properly met and will never meet again, just because you're a flamboyant spectacle wandering around in daylight.

But if I don't wear drag (I was planning a green sequined halter-neck gown with a green voile jacket in case it's cold, with gold lace pumps and the usual overdose of jewelry), that leaves me with the thorny problem of what to wear out of drag that is fabulous enough to do Marin County and myself credit. I pretty much decided on baggy dark-green slacks and a nice blue-and-white striped shirt and green-and-burgundy floral tie, with the tie undone and the shirtsleeves rolled up, and my cream-and-brown saddle-shoes and a tan straw fedora — a sort of 1940's Office Boy Casual. It's one of my only nice male Looks. It's very comfortable, too.

So two possibilities. Drag would be more fabulous, but would be physically and perhaps emotionally uncomfortable. Boydrag would be comfortable, maybe even attractive (one never knows when one might catch Mr Right's eye), but not nearly as fabulous. Oh, what to do, what to do? Any suggestions? That's what the Commentary box is for.

Fortunately, I'm going to Shiloh's birthday party tomorrow (he turned 25 on Wednesday), and there will be plenty of queens with opinions there. I think what I'll do is just keep a running tab of everyone's opinions and treat it like a vote-poll.

Those are my thoughts for today. Sort of jumbled. But if I can't think clearly, at least I can see clearly, and that's what matters when it comes to things like this:

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