Leon is back in the building. He vanished last night, the role of being me was assumed by my femme alter ego, Lianne. Went to a drag themed event, which was straight up bitchin’ yo. Like any good costume, dressing up in the opposite gender’s clothes is a ton of fun and anyone who says otherwise is a stick in the mud up someone’s ass. As with most costumes, dressing in drag enables you to play like you did as a kid. So often make-believe is absent from our daily lives and its a blast to regain any modicum of that. Frankly it’s just fun to wear the other gender’s shoes for a change (though not literally. It’s hard to find 10.5 women’s shoes that’re wide enough for me. No heels, thanks. I have no need of a broken ankle). So I guess the salient question is… what (not “who” I feel like that’s something you ask Buffalo Bill) was I wearing?
I’ve gotta thank my girlfriend here for lending me a fetching flowing white dress, adorned with blue and purple peacock feather patterning. Mercifully stretchy, it was comfy and lightweight, breathable and accommodating to my less than womanly figure. We made some bead bracelets together, taking care and attention to match them to the white, blue and purple colour scheme. I drunkenly applied some fake lashes (which were discarded as soon as my friend did my makeup. She practically (and rightfully) scoffed at my ineptitude) and wore a headband with a pretty blue bow on it. I felt pretty and witty and gay.
What I didn’t have were the mannerisms. Lianne sounded pretty butch, because lame attempts at softening my voice rendered my words virtually inaudible in a bar environment. I frequently had to ask advice on posing and posture, remembering to jut out my chest to compensate for its lack of chesticles. Having a handbag/purse, even with an over the shoulder strap, was cumbersome and I bitterly rued my lack of pockets. I kept losing things in its vast, voluminous interior.
Dancing was a whole different affair. The other day in preparation I tried watching a “how to twerk” video. I learned that I’ve got no idea how to actively engage those hip muscles. Any hip movements were clunky and ungainly, I was zero parts flowing water, merely thudding and rock-like. I crowdsourced a couple of moves which I stumbled through awkwardly. Yet again, I would’ve been sensual to nobody unless they were a masochist. Having an ankle length dress meant I was constantly gathering it in my palms to prevent myself from tripping. It wasn’t all bad though. One nice thing about wearing a loose dress with straps was being able to pull those straps down from my shoulders to upper arms, letting in some air flow. Just feeling air blowing up the dress and across the legs was pretty pleasant. A sign I should switch to shorts? I like shorts. They’re comfy and easy to wear.
Altogether a superb night. If you haven’t tried donning clothing worn outside of your preferred gender identity give it a whirl. Lianne gives it a resounding 2 x’s.