by Xen

Created on: July 08, 2009   Last Updated: July 12, 2009

Dress Rehearsal

Being Goddesses

I try to exit the dance floor again, moving against the tide of people at 80s Night. In front of me is a drag queen I've seen a few times, originally at a GLTB mixer in Poughkeepsie (he was one of the organizers and wore a gigantic blond bouffant wig) a few weeks ago. Last week, I recognized him, even sans wig, and greeted him. He affected diffidence and said, "I don't even know who you are," before I pointed out that he'd had dinner with me. He conceded then and reintroduced himself as Alphonso, finally saying in parting, "It's because you are not wearing glasses."

Tonight, he is dressed fully as a woman - as much as a drag queen ever is - in a short silver dress, fishnet stockings, a black wig that might actually be worn by a woman going through chemo, make-up, and five-inch heels that would break a real woman's ankles. He looks me over as I am trying to get past him and says, "I still don't know who you are, you keep taking your glasses off and putting them back on. I can't recognize you." Though, obviously, he can to be able to say this.

I reply, "I remember you, and you weren't even wearing a stuffed bra last time." He doesn't hear me or pretends he doesn't for the effect of it, the added aloofness.

While certainly extreme as an example, the concept is not atypical. There is something in 80s Night, something that is perhaps inherent in all bars (but I'll have to take you at your word), that invites disguise. Alphonso - or Isis, as he is apparently called in full drag - at least is forthright about most of his costume. I conspicuously notice what people wear - from the simple uniform of jeans and a short sleeved standard issue among some of the men (myself included), to the woman who brags of knitting her on top that does not conceal her back or stomach, to the middle age man in a torn shirt reading "I'm not Mr. Right, but I'll pretend until he gets here" - because they invite notice. These are the costumes we have chosen for this dress rehearsal.

Why do you let me around you with a camera?

We all hide - and yes, I feel I need to include myself in this - from our daylight lives while inside Cabaloosa. It is a world apart, one that is kept from bleeding over into reality. A touch of sun would turn the events of 80s Night to ash. I pity anyone who wakes up next to someone they lusted for in the smoking area or at the bar, because our human faces cannot be seen in the dimness.

There arrives a man, an associate but not

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