Monday, October 17, 2005
Gaaah. Just 'Gaaah'. It's partly AA Gill, one of those people who, once you encounter them even by the several times remove of reading articles they write, makes you glad that there is unlikely to be any social event at which your paths will cross. Then there's Grayson Perry, after several years on the tranny in the spotlight being the wholly presentable Eddie Izzard we now have someone who spends most of their time dressed like Arnold Rimmer in Red Dwarf when he went nuts.
Anyway, I bought one of these a few weeks back and was thinking about wearing it to work. Ahhh, bless my work, where they haven't yet found a way to stop my occasional bouts of transvesticism. Anyway, haven't worn a skirt for a good long while, bit pissed off at the moment, sounds ideal. I have a slight problem in that, being born a boy, through no fault of my own, I never got taught about things like colour co-ordination by my Mum as my Dad was trying to get me interested in hammers instead. So, my co-ordination tends to be limited to 'wearing all the same colour', what we might call 'the Neil Gaiman method' (oh go and Google "Neil Gaiman" and black, do I have to do everything round here?) and I don't have anything in a similar shade of brown, or even a decent autumnul green that I could risk.
And these things matter. Because for a woman to walk down the street in crap clothes, well, that's what Sixties feminists burned their bras for, but for a transvestite to do that, well obviously they bring shame upon all their kind everywhere and get chased up hills by angry mobs with flaming pitchforks shouting "That lipstick doesn't do a thing for you!"
True story.
Anyway, I bought one of these a few weeks back and was thinking about wearing it to work. Ahhh, bless my work, where they haven't yet found a way to stop my occasional bouts of transvesticism. Anyway, haven't worn a skirt for a good long while, bit pissed off at the moment, sounds ideal. I have a slight problem in that, being born a boy, through no fault of my own, I never got taught about things like colour co-ordination by my Mum as my Dad was trying to get me interested in hammers instead. So, my co-ordination tends to be limited to 'wearing all the same colour', what we might call 'the Neil Gaiman method' (oh go and Google "Neil Gaiman" and black, do I have to do everything round here?) and I don't have anything in a similar shade of brown, or even a decent autumnul green that I could risk.
And these things matter. Because for a woman to walk down the street in crap clothes, well, that's what Sixties feminists burned their bras for, but for a transvestite to do that, well obviously they bring shame upon all their kind everywhere and get chased up hills by angry mobs with flaming pitchforks shouting "That lipstick doesn't do a thing for you!"
True story.
