sundries

TSA field office busted for "keeping score" in the style of Jeopardy on gay men, lesbians and African Americans, who were referred to as "creatures" by the managers in the office.

It's too cold to do ANYTHING and I have to do EVERYTHING.

Speaking of cold, we so did not go to Dances of Vice last night.

Instead we watched the end of Merlin, S2 (god, what a frustrating, incoherent waste of a series -- it has so much potential and it just doesn't know what it wants to be or care about creating a coherent world no matter how wonky and anachronistic -- note, I'm not asking for any sort of "accuracy" just for internal consistency).

Then we watched two episodes of Buffy which I continue to love. But wow that episode on cyberdating demons was so 90s it hurt. Jacked in?!?!?!?! Oi. It also had a lot of elements that reminded me of The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit from Doctor Who.

One of the things that amuses me about Buffy is spending a lot of time thinking about what the fandom must be like. At one point I turned to Patty and said, "People get that Gilles is, well, Gilles, right? They aren't writing lots of terrible fic about him wearing leather pants and being a dom are they? Because in Harry Potter fandom, that's what would happen."

Soon we can start Being Human.

Do you use a Mac? Do you think like you're writing a book? If so Things! is like Scrivener for your life. BEST. SOFTWARE. EVER. It could only be better if I could link it to Scrivener and make it give me deadlines in Scrivener for writing tasks.

There is a rabies outbreak in Central Park and authorities warn it could spread from raccoons to humans.

Harry & Bix: a eulogy for two dogs of W. 86th Street.

Tween boys and grooming products.

the tuxedo

So the tuxedo from Duchess arrived while we were in the Carribean. We got back, I brought it home, and I unpacked it, but didn't try it on. I needed studs not just for the shirt, but for the waistcoat and detachable collar and had to assemble them. And, in taking the thing out of the box, I was sort of hit by the emotional weight of it; I'm like that about good clothes in general and have written often here about the private loneliness and grace I find in the act of tending to clothes. And, let's be honest, I always do have a little half-second of "hrrr" when I hand my suits and dress shirts up, all in a nice row in my closet, next to, among other things, my vintage great coat. There are a hundred lives in that closet that aren't actually mine.

Anyway, so yesterday Meryl from Duchess emails me and is all "how is it?!?" and I had to confess I had not tried it on yet, but Patty and I were planning to go out that night and I'd let her know. Of course, we didn't go out, so this morning before I got dressed for the theater, I said fuck it and decided to try it on.

Oh. My. God.

I had asked them to make it as trim as possible while still disguising my female body, and I was nervous about that decision since I didn't know how that would work. Certainly, I've written before about the way the combination of my height and hips and how I have suit built to hide those hips make me stocky as a man, which is sorta bizarre when you've spent your whole life being as slight as I am.

There's also the simple truth that a tuxedo, with its single button does, of all male attire, give the mainstream man the most hourglass figure he ever has in the modern, public world. I was worried about the degree these things would all combine and have a sort of Garbo effect. Not that that would be bad, but it's really, really not what I wanted to be going for.

Well, my eternal cheer-leading for Duchess Clothier remains. The suit is trim. Snug. Nips my waist just as it should and yet still hides my hips, still gives me a male silhouette and is still clearly historical/vintage-inspired. It's shocking. It's evocative. It's practically poured-on.

It's sort of bizarre. To the point that I don't really know how to articulate both its awesomeness and how I respond to it. Just, Gallifrey One people? Trust me when I say you are going to be blown away.

It seems, also, that I have finally found a piece of clothing I cannot get into in five minutes or less (and I say this as a corset owner). Tuxedo studs are ridiculously fiddly. And detachable collars only add to the horror on that front. But it's great. I mean, it shouldn't be easy, right?