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An Unspectacular Life, Part 13
23/11/09

More than four months since my last post! I've been a little busy. It seems
that Winter and Spring are when I have the time to write. I hope that it was
worth the wait.

PART 13

There were eight. All perfectly spaced on the top shelf. All blonde, combed
or teased or sprayed and hugging white faceless Styrofoam forms. I had never
ever tried on a wig before but without hesitation or thought, I reached up
and, with the kind of reverence and respect I've only seen priests show when
somehow transforming wine to blood, took down the short tight Afro and held
it in my hands. I didn't know why I instinctively knew that I had to hang my
head down and put the wig on upside down but I knew. Or when the wig was on
and before looking into the full length closet mirror, I tucked in the stray
pieces of my own hair under the wig like I had done it a thousand times
before. And when I looked into the mirror, I didn't laugh. I instead adjusted
the wig until it sat perfectly on my head. I then turned my attention to
Kevin who still hadn't made a move.

"Holy shit, Kevin. Pick one. What are you waiting for?"

Kevin looked at me in the short tight blonde Afro wig, smiled a smile of
recognition like you do when you finally get something that someone has been
trying to explain to you until it hurts to hear it, then turned his attention
back to the closet and chose what could only be described as, "The Dolly
Parton". It was an spun cotton candy up-do that rose at least ten inches
above the form and gently sloped backwards. It almost touched the ceiling.
Both sides of the wig, just in front of where the ears would be, were adorned
with loose ringlets. Kevin didn't have the wig gene that I apparently had so
I had to help him put it on. When he had it on, we both stood there and
looked at ourselves and each other in Lily's full length closet mirror. Then
we started laughing, screaming really until it hurt to breath. It was as if
another piece were played in our gay chess game and we were squealing with
the divine realization that our lives just became a little more
comprehensible. I never knew why I enjoyed watching the drag dolls at
Whispers until that moment: I had an inner drag queen and when, decades
later, I looked back at those days, I was able to make the connection with
drag and eighties club fashion. They both strove to do the same; to disguise
and to elicit reaction, good or bad. It didn't matter. My inner drag queen
wanted attention or love, which to seventeen year old, were the same.

When we caught our breath and re-straightened our wigs, we both knew what we
had to do next. We started at opposite ends of the closet and while making
certain to not disturb Lily's clothing too much, we inspected every pant
suit, jump suit, mini skirt, full length skirt, mini dress, halter dress,
peasant dress, fake fur coat, blouse, jacket and designer jeans that Lily had
archived in her closet time capsule. It looked as if she never threw anything
out. Her closet represented thirty years of women's fashion starting in the
1950s. As we moved along, we commented on absolutely every piece. Sometimes
it was just a flat, "No" or a disgusted, "What was she thinking?" or an
excited, "How would I look in this?" or a passionate, "Oh my God!" that could
be interpreted either positively or negatively depending on inflection.

When I had finished looking at what had to easily by two hundred articles of
clothing, I raced back to my favourite and pulled it off of the hanger as if
I were in a department store snatching it off the rack before someone else
got to it. It was a 70's yellow one piece jump suit. It was a perfect match
for my tight blonde Afro. Kevin was having a tougher time editing his
options. I didn't want to help him. I didn't have much luck picking out
Kevin's clothes in the past. I wanted this to be his experience without my
interference but I was already in the jumpsuit, dick tucked (another action
that was as instinctive as blinking) and looking for accessories while Kevin
was still trying to decide between three outfits. I had to intervene. There
was the off chance that Lily's son would come home and catch us playing dress
up in his mother’s bedroom. I looked at his options laid out on the paisley
bedspread and hanging off of the stuffed lion and picked out his first drag
ensemble. It was a full length denim skirt with a frilly white blouse and a
short denim vest. It was all Dolly. There was a problem though. I could
barely squeeze into the jumpsuit but I managed. Kevin couldn't get the skirt
up past his thighs. I could tell that he was quickly becoming disheartened.
He hadn't thought about the fact that we had been standing in Lily's bedroom,
rifling through her closet for the last fifteen minutes and now he was once
again freaked that we were doing what we were doing. I asked him to help me
finish then we would figure something out for him.

If I were a real drag doll, my outfit would not have left the house. It was
not at all flattering. It made me look short and lumpy, even in the strappy
white heels that I sort of had on. I was really only standing, balancing on
them but there was no starting over again with Kevin's mood and buzz quickly
going south so I tried to save the look with accessories. There were several
jewelry boxes on Lily's dresser. I needed big to distract the eye and Lily
did not disappoint. It was as if she stocked her bedroom because she knew
that this moment would someday come. She was my first unwitting fairy
godmother. The first box that I opened was the kind that had a ballerina that
danced when the lid was lifted except she wasn't moving. The box had to be
wound up so I wound it. The music seemed to ease some of Kevin's tension,
although he was again posted at the door keeping watch in a blonde beehive.
Besides the ballerina, the box housed delicate gold chains and earrings. Not
what I was looking for. The jewelry box beside the ballerina was twice the
size. It was in this box that I found the perfect accessories. There were two
gold painted wooden bracelets the size of doughnuts and a matching necklace
of over sized wooden beads. The pieces were simple but size mattered. I put
them on and forgot that I had visible love handles. I would let Kevin do my
face. We decided to keep it simple; eyes, cheekbones and lips. We decided on
robin's egg blue (what else) for eyeshadow. I wanted big bold eyes. Kevin
applied Lily’s make-up on me like he was painting a paint-by-numbers. There
was no blending. I was starting to look clownish when I took the blush brush
away from him. I was done in less than two minutes. I could have spent a half
an hour experimenting on just my eyebrows but Kevin was becoming increasingly
paranoid.

While doing my face, an expression that I always wished that I could use, I
figured out how to solve the Kevin dilemma. I told Kevin to sit on Lily’s bed
and dashed across the hall into my room. I returned almost immediately with
the safety pins that we didn't use on Kevin's debut outfit at Whispers. I
would pin the clothes to the front of Kevin like I was dressing a paper cut-
out doll. Kevin thought that the idea was stupid and began to take off the
wig. I shrieked. This opportunity would never come again. That’s exactly how
I saw our drunken time spent together in Lily’s room; an opportunity. It was
the perfect chance to become something that either of us really had ever
contemplated but were drawn to because of our common gay DNA. I knew that
this would by the one and only time that we ever did drag. This was the
opportunity to look as outrageous as the performers at Whispers without
having to be in public but it wasn't exactly private either. We were each
others witnesses to this event. If I didn't pin the clothes onto Kevin and
put some make up on his face, I knew that he would regret not doing it. His
gayness would never forgive him. I didn't explain any of this to him. I just
shrieked which stopped him cold. He was so shocked that he allowed me to
start pinning. The skirt was easy to pin to Kevin's jeans. The frilly white
blouse proved to be quite difficult but not impossible. I was using the
smallest safety pins that I had because I didn't want to ruin the blouse.
Kevin's shoulders were much wider than those of the blouse so I had to
unbutton the top three or four buttons but quickly found a silk, paisley (of
course) scarf in the closet and tied it around Kevin’s neck and tucked it
into the shirt like an ascot. He actually looked like he was wearing the
clothes except he couldn't really move his upper body without ripping the
blouse. We had to forfeit the denim vest. There was also no way to stuff
Dolly boobs under the blouse which was a shame. I decided that he should have
soft, pretty make-up so I went for the pinks and lavenders with just the
smallest amount of mascara. Poor Kevin. I had completely taken control of his
drag queen experience but if I hadn't, he would never of had one. We were as
done as we could be, almost. Kevin whined something about wanting boobs but
he knew that he could rip the blouse that was pinned tightly across his chest
if he tried to stuff anything under it. Would Lily miss one article of
clothing among so many? I jumped off of my heels and darted back to my
bedroom and got a couple of t-shirts. After controlling the experience, I had
to give Kevin something that he wanted so I gave him boobs. They were a
fraction of Dolly’s but there they were, under a very stressed white frilly
blouse that would not survive the hallway cat walk.