Thursday, June 14, 2007

Boy Business

To the best of my knowledge there have only been approximately three people who have ever thought me particularly sexy in my camos, boots, suits, steel-caps and cropped hair. Generally it seems to be the consensus that I am considerably more lustworthy when in fishnets and corsets- though I can't say I quite agree. Its true that I do often feel quite shaggable when tarted up (and possibly more comfortable sometimes as its what I am more used to), but its also true that I usually feel MUCH much more inclined to be truly skanky when in boxers and a hanky. In stockings and glitter I want to be seduced and giggly, but in a wifebeater or hoody I want rough and tumble by garbage-strewn canals in Manchester and to pick up trade directly out of the gutters.

On a tangent: A friend of mine from Sydeny found ourselves in this gigantic opshop the other day, trying to find suits to wear to one of the Betty parties. Our efforts were to no avail, as not only was the superstore rather lacking in suitage for folk with waists under 36 inches but we really didn't have much of a clue between us how to tell if one DID happen to fit! I mean, where are pants supposed to end? How long should a jacket be? How to deal with waistcoats that go all bulgy at the sides where one's tits are? Its all rather bewildering. Like I need some sort of older brother to drag along with me, the type who knows all about the proper knots for ties and how to wear cufflinks and where the waist should sit on a pair of trousers. And on yet another tangent: Have brought my pipe down here with me, and if I get into town tomorrow may buy some proper tobacco and see if I can't teach myself how to smoke the thing correctly. It wants to go out and be puffed upon at leather events but until I can do it without choking or having to relight it every ten seconds its not going to!

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Blogger mayhem said...

Owww zoo, why didn't you call me first? I've been buying and wearing gentlemen's wear longer than you've been wearing tampons.....

next time you're looking for a gentlemanly fitting - look me up


11:49 am  
Blogger Zoo said...

Because I was in Melbourne and you were lushing about in Olympic Sodom, you silly little Scragg you. Besides, I was wearing suits before I bled too, in some odd drag king phase (three pieces and very short hair) that I went through when I was about 11 years old. Disturbed my parents and confused the heck out of my partially blind Nanna who thought she'd suddenly been blessed with another adolescent grandson.

And who said I wore tampons? Ewwww! Itchy horrible things! I just use them for performances to freak people out! Let the blood flow freely I say...

11:57 am  
Blogger Zoo said...

And yes, of course I will call you next time I require gentlemanly fittings. Much obliged. Just have to decide whether Sir dresses to the left or to the right- the middle ground always seems horribly indiscrete!

12:12 pm  
Blogger mayhem said...

check mate!

Me mum got me my first 3 piece prince of wales check number for $6 in 1984 (I still have the jacket.....)

You were younger than 11 then weren't you?

It briefly followed with a black 1940's tuxedo for my 14th birthday.....

and wot makes you think i'd assume you'd wear tampons in your glovebox? dangling from ears, up bleeding noses, gaffa taped to blistered feet...

me blighty tourist mate has a 3 piece made to measure cashmere number and I have a penchant for cigars and cognac so will have to do some sort of eton lads dressups fest - reckon gaylourdes would be up for it?

enjoy drizzle

6:01 pm  
Blogger Zoo said...

yes, well, the besuited phase of my pre-pubescence was short-lived i'm afraid, followed by a rather alarming frolic in the Lands of Gothic Horror and Punk. and yes, in 1984 i was a mere 9 years old and most probably still listening to Culture Club and wanting to shack up with Boy George (even then i wanted to brides. and thus beginning a long affair with lads with good eye makeup).

of course it was silly of me to think you would be for a moment suggesting i kept tampons in my, ahem, glovebox. for it goes without saying that my glovebox is where i keep GLOVES, at least in my more fortunate moments...

please don't speak of made-to-measure suitage! one of the ONLY things in london that tickled my fancy years ago was an exquisate bespoke shirt shop. i stared in the window for hours, looking for all intents and purposes like oliver twist confronted with a big steaming plate of pease pudding and saveloys.

can we be eton rifles? and is there some way i can fit a cravat and a smoking jacket into all of this? and a tie-pin? where is gowings when i need it? bugger!

6:42 pm  
Blogger Zoo said...

ps you mentioned bleeding noses. that's just wicked! next it'll be split lips and black eyes and bruised ribs. TEASE!

6:47 pm  

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