Last time I mentioned I'd try a brief change in hair color.
Honestly, I'm beginning to change my hair color as often as I
change my lip and nail color. With the flip or switch of a
wig, I can go from jet black to dark brown to ginger brown to
chestnut to red to blonde... the list goes on and on.
Ahhh... speaking of blonde, check me out in my newest photos.
I'm not only blonde, but a very blonde blonde. I've got some
stories to tell concerning these photos, but they'll have to
wait until next month.
Until then, my new hair color of the month is burgundy. It's basically a dark brown shade with burgundy highlights. Under some lights, it looks like a beautiful shade of red and provides a fabulous accent to any club outfit that has black as its primary color. Since my new job has me travelling around the country, I hadn't gone out clubbing in a while, so this past Saturday I got back from a business trip and I had to go out dancing.
That night, I wore a black skintight see-through top beneath a sleeveless mock turtleneck cable-knit sweater, black Jordache stretch jeans, kickin' new black leather booties by Evan Picone (purchased from a mall store called Enzo). I wore quite a bit of ring jewelry, having adorned some fingers with more than one ring; I had recently seen a lesbian adopt this style and I chose to mimic this look.
I wore black opaque tights underneath my jeans and filled them out with lower torso enhancement pads I fabricated out of polyfoam. I know that some men find wide hips and a big butt to be very attractive and my goal was to please some of these onlookers, all the while maintaining a definite continuity in my overall body shape. Everything I wore that night was of the body-clinging variety, so if I did have hips and a butt that that were too big, my boobs would look too small.
There is something to be said about the type of female figure with a very small upper torso, small boobs, small arms, and a very wide, rounded bum. Some people are buttmen and like those sorts of things. I, however, am a boobgirl. I love big boobs. To me, the ideal female figure is a perfect hourglass frontways and a huge protruding chest from the sideview. Honey, bigger is better.
Okay, enough fantasy. If I looked this way every time I went out clubbing, I would be a serious contender in Gawk City. Save my 38D breast forms for another day. Even 38C was a bit too big for the look I was going for. So, what was I looking for?
Think streamlined. Think skinny.
Skinny girls have smallish hips, a small round butt, reasonably sized B-cup boobs, a teeny tiny waist, skinny arms and legs, etc. Underneath my skintight top, I wore a black lace bra that held my new Mirage 38B boobs in place. I ordered my new breasts through Dorothy Thompson's The Ultimate Breast mail-order and had them specially made for me. Dorothy tried to get me a better color match than my previous set of Mirages and made a nipple projection to my specification and color (I don't like big protruding "fetish nipples.").
As I did crash diet for 24 hours, my waist was down to a trim 26 inches and, with my boobs and foam padding on, I measured myself to be 38B-26-37. When I say crash diet, I mean I still eat meals, but they are twice a day, half the amount I normally eat, and I drink plenty of water to shrink my body and remove toxins from it.
My lips and long sculptured nails were painted with Revlon's Toast of New York lip color and matching nail polish. My eyes were done with Revlon's Overtime Shadows in Spices, Revlon's Colorstay Eyeliner in Black Brown, and three coats of Revlon's Lengthwise Waterproof Mascara in Dusky Brown. My cheeks were colored with philosophy's suntan shade and applied with philosophy's excellent and oh-so-soft blush brush.
I went to my usual club, Woody's, and noticed that they had expanded the club since I had last been there. The entire first floor had been redone and now a really long line formed to the new coat check room on the first floor, probably strategically placed so that people walking into the club could catch a preview of the people standing and waiting in line.
Standing in line and almost reaching the coat check, I let my long black wool overcoat drop off my shoulders to reveal my suggestive outfit. A whiff of Gaultier entered the air and several cute guys turned around to smile at me. A short powerlifter guy told me I looked "fantastic." Several guys followed me with their eyes as I walked through the club. A couple of guys didn't like me very much, I could tell, and I could hear them acting shady with their offhanded remarks, but they were in the minority and were nothing to rant about themselves.
Two Black drag queens checked me out and gave me a mean look bordering on a snarl. One of them made a "Tsk!" noise aloud as I passed by her. Was she being shady? The other one proceeded to show off her cleavage to the nearest guy she saw. The two of them got their coats and left the club shortly afterwards, eyeing me every now and again.
When a competitive drag queen sees you and you look much more fabulous than she does, jealousy ensues. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the most fabulous of them all? If those particular drag queens couldn't be the fiercest, most real "women" in the place, they will go elsewhere to be the top dog. I outdid both of these queens, they knew it, and they had to leave to go to another place. For those of you who've followed my adventures from the very beginning, you know that I hate drag queens who think that they're better than everyone else.
I was upstairs and didn't even take two sips of my drink before a string of guys walked by and an overly tall and handsome Jim Harbaugh look-alike turned to me, checked me out, and told me I looked "fabulous." He looked at me and I pretended not to hear him just so he could say it again. He repeated himself and made an appreciative face that basically said, "Have mercy!" I smiled and said thanks.
A hefty Diana Ross impersonator walked up beside me. She wore a black and gold sequined gown. Her face was beautiful and exquisite, the obvious work of a skilled plastic surgeon. She seemed like a nice person, but she got quite irritated and walked to the bar on the opposite end of the room because the bartender on this end was ignoring her drink request.
I walked around a bit and caught up with two friends, Shani and Brian, who mentioned earlier in the day that they might stop by Woody's to dance. The two of them were there with a gay couple who seemed really cool. I sat by myself for a while before Anthony, a really nice Boston clubkid who knew me by my Web page, approached me and said hi. He compared Woody's to a club called Buzz in Boston. Thanks for the tip, cutie!
I stopped by the bar for another drink and a happy-go-lucky guy next to me started talking to me. He really like Woody's and I told him that Saturday and Sunday nights are very good nights for the club, especially with its decent mix of gays, lesbians, and drag queens. My two clubkid friends, Jayna and Siana, walked by, too. Jayna was in blonde mode and wore black and white leopard print clothing and Siana had big black hair and wore fluorescent pink spandex. Both queens looked fabulous as always. They walked by and an odd sight followed.
Jayna, you are all that, girl!
An aging blonde crossdresser who wore a gold sequined jacket and black bodysuit underneath walked by. She was approached by many guys, but I wondered why. She was not particularly attractive, walking in a pair of black patent heels that she could barely stand in, but she had an obvious flamboyance that attracted certain types of men, I suppose. I walked back to Shani and Brian seeing that they had gotten off the dance floor.
As I was attempting to talk to Shani and Brian beneath the thunderous bass sounds, a large Black man in a black jacket shifted in front of me, his oversized hand grabbed a hold of my small frame. He was about my height, but he was wide and looked like a Mack truck. Definitely a bodybuilder and one of the most masculine-looking men I've ever seen. That's why he was kind of scary.
"Hi..." the hulk said, whispering in my ear.
I smiled and said hi.
"My name's Ronnie. What's your name?"
"Kalina."
He nodded, but didn't say a word. I stood there looking at him.
"If you want me to go away, I will," he said.
Now, what kind of come-on line was that?
"No, I don't want you to go away."
He nodded.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.
Yeeks! I can't win with this question.
"Yes..." I said, unassuredly. "He's at home."
That didn't stop him from proceeding. Well, think about why he proceeded. This awesome-looking girl that he sees in a club looks totally single and her man is at home. What's wrong with this picture?
"Do you want to dance with me?" he asked, grabbing my arm with a firm grip. He didn't seem like he was going to let go.
I shook my head and smiled. I had hoped that I didn't look like I was mocking him.
"Why not?"
"I can't right now..." I replied. That was good enough for him. Shani and Brian were looking onwards at the whole situation, kind of jeering at me from afar. I'll get them! Grrr!
"I'm sorry," I continued, "but my boyfriend would get very angry if I danced with someone else. Maybe next time, okay?"
And I kissed him on the cheek.
He looked a little surprised and finally nodded his head and walked away. That was the first time in a long time that I felt quite powerless as a femme. Some people revel in being a sissy transvestite, but not me. My favorite superhero is Wonder Woman (hey, what a neat-o Halloween costume idea)!
I kept thinking that Ronnie could have been a free ticket to
more drinks, but that would have meant that I would be
committed to him that night. Better not to get involved in
situations like that, especially if you don't like the guy to
begin with.
Red is coming back this spring as the color of choice, so break out your rose and deep reds. Revlon likes to call it "Very Currant." To me, currant is like a violet or plum color, not like the purplish reds that are featured in the new Revlon ads. Supermodel Cindy Crawford looks a bit drag queen-like in the new photos. L'Oreal continues to tout brown as the color of choice and their formula is good and stable. Brown is a more subdued color that works with almost any skin tone whereas red is more of a bold power color.
We've seen enough long skirts and long dresses this past season, so the obvious switch is to really short, short shorts and skirts. Expect to see butt cheeks spilling out. All of you chic chicks with a little flab or cellulite on your buttocks had better work the flab off fast if you want to pull off this look. Tops will show lots of cleavage, so we'll just have to be a bit more imaginative as to how we create something out of nothing unless those lucky few of us have breast implants to show.
I continue to see rebel punk rocker women walking the streets of downtown Philadelphia (and not just South Street, too). You know the type: jet black hair, black nails, black lipstick, black leather, silver jewelry. Of course, this woman was well into her thirties, possibly pushing 40, so the look may have died long ago, but she and other ancient relics have kept the look alive. Kill off this look, people! This look is dead! The eighties have gone, the nineties are almost over, and the year 2000 is close, but not so close that we can predict the next new trend (no one can predict these trends anyway).
On-line versions of Glamour magazine, Details, Mademoiselle, and GQ can now be found on the Web. Check out http://www.swoon.com.
I hope you've enjoyed this installment of The Vampire's Lair! To find out more about me, come visit my Web site and wish me a Happy 29th Birthday!