A few moments in "da lyfe:"
winter. two teenaged women (oxymoron? GET USED TO IT) pass me, one giggles and shout-whispers "dude, that a girl or a guy?" I smile, smug to myself-oh, didn't they see? can't they tell? Then realize...that's kind of what I'm going for.
I still get a little hung up when I dress for queer events/parties. Do I look gay enough? Should I butch it up more? will I get away with a dress AND lots of eye makeup? If I wear a straggly vest and tough boots? I've spoken some to some queer friends who complain of a lack of visibility. I don't know if I'm visible all the time, but I definitely have worked my wardrobe/style a bit gayer. Summer helps. Hairy armpits are still pretty gay. Especially sans hippie-trappings.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
b-ware
At Bloomingdale's, if they can slap a b onto something they will.[No, that's not the real b-font. No, I don't care]. Our training materials were heavy-handed with b's-"b-style" is our dress code, "b-awareness" is our safety policy, "b-movement" is our bathroom manual. I kid. But it is that ubiquitous and that obnoxious. b-style is quite persnickity, too. belts should be black, their buckles preferably silver. Tattoos should be "covered" (I'll get to that later), and socks should be worn. Worse yet, different areas of the store require different levels of formality of their staff. It's pretty exhausting.
At this point, it's almost all moot, as the store I work at is closing, within two weeks. Yes, it's been slow and arduous. But, it's also been a time for many to start ignoring large tracts of b-style. Managers, also losing their jobs, do not care much, and it falls on associates to police each others' dress. I was so policed today, for failing to wear socks. It's not that it bothered me, because I doubt I could care less whether the company that has eliminated my job loses face for my dirty ankles. It did set me to thinking, however, to how many other times my appearance has been policed by my coworkers at bloomingdale's. Or, rather, my gender has been policed.
I'm queer, and part of that identity must need visibility. Let's not forget that right now the tomboy is oh-so-"chic" and we'll say that I dress from tomboyish to butch more often than not, and when dressed "not" I'm usually a bit punkish-brutish-brooding. [One of genuinely positive things about b-style is all the black. I like.] I have a black dress or two, and one skirt, I'll throw on, usually with less effort or enthusiasm than my more boyish items. The trouble comes when I wear that dress, a little sack-like, with lazy styling and boring shoes and get twenty times the positive attention for it as one of my self-determined über-cool slacks-and-sweater ensembles. And believe me, I've experimented. Whether its a small handful of people, or most of those I know, I consistently get compliments and encouragement for wearing a dress. Even a boring dress. Especially a boring dress.
At this point, it's almost all moot, as the store I work at is closing, within two weeks. Yes, it's been slow and arduous. But, it's also been a time for many to start ignoring large tracts of b-style. Managers, also losing their jobs, do not care much, and it falls on associates to police each others' dress. I was so policed today, for failing to wear socks. It's not that it bothered me, because I doubt I could care less whether the company that has eliminated my job loses face for my dirty ankles. It did set me to thinking, however, to how many other times my appearance has been policed by my coworkers at bloomingdale's. Or, rather, my gender has been policed.
I'm queer, and part of that identity must need visibility. Let's not forget that right now the tomboy is oh-so-"chic" and we'll say that I dress from tomboyish to butch more often than not, and when dressed "not" I'm usually a bit punkish-brutish-brooding. [One of genuinely positive things about b-style is all the black. I like.] I have a black dress or two, and one skirt, I'll throw on, usually with less effort or enthusiasm than my more boyish items. The trouble comes when I wear that dress, a little sack-like, with lazy styling and boring shoes and get twenty times the positive attention for it as one of my self-determined über-cool slacks-and-sweater ensembles. And believe me, I've experimented. Whether its a small handful of people, or most of those I know, I consistently get compliments and encouragement for wearing a dress. Even a boring dress. Especially a boring dress.
I don't know what's up with this trend. I have my theories, but really...I'm just sick of being lauded for the least amount of effort coupled with what, to me, is going along with some idea of gender norms. And don't get me started on how thrilled people were when I wore lipstick AND a skirt. [Someone may have called me a model.] Though there's several people who don't comment, and one person [ONE] who compliments me when I stuff my wide-legged pants into boots, safari-style, it's not enough. So I turn to you, internet. And here I will expound upon my men's pants and a-mazing tie to my heart's delight. b-nough already.
<3 + c3>
[love and gelato]
stine
erhem
My apologies, hypothetical readers (and not-so-hypothetical friends who responded last fall). This is a project I meant to begin months ago. I could give the excuses, but you've heard them before. I'm finally writing this because the ideas keep popping out in all sorts of places, and because of where I work, which you'll hear about soon.
This is not a fashion blog. I want to talk about dress, about the act, about the ritual, about the thoughts behind it. I want to think about my own dressing, and yours, and hers, maybe his, and find out some of the things that make me tick. I do not, at this time, intend to photograph my own outfits. I will do a weekly tally of things coming into my wardrobe, and things going out. I will feature, bi-weekly, or as I have the content, some questions put to others about dress.
[love and ice cream]
ps that ice cream could also be soy ice cream or rice dream or a cupcake cone. ice cream here stands in for a sweet treat I wish to feed to you. consensually.
pps sticky fingers
This is not a fashion blog. I want to talk about dress, about the act, about the ritual, about the thoughts behind it. I want to think about my own dressing, and yours, and hers, maybe his, and find out some of the things that make me tick. I do not, at this time, intend to photograph my own outfits. I will do a weekly tally of things coming into my wardrobe, and things going out. I will feature, bi-weekly, or as I have the content, some questions put to others about dress.
<3 + c3>
[love and ice cream]
stine
pps sticky fingers
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