This post resembles, but in no way represents anyone living or otherwise.....
Sonny has an older brother who is also gay who is turning 75 this month. He (the brother) has been taking tap-dancing lessons for several years and is giving a performance for the party to celebrate. It might be in some kind of local theatre there in San Francisco. Anyway, one of the stipulations for attendance at the party is that the men must all wear dresses. Sonny said he was NOT wearing a dress and his brother would just have to deal with it. I told him ‘of course you’re wearing a dress…we’ll go pick it out together! and so we did. We met at Nitty Gritty at 2 Wednesday. I got there about ½ hour early to pick some things out so that he could just go in the room very nonchalant and start trying on the dresses. The saleslady was taking them back to the dressing room by the armload for me. By the time Sonny got there, I was through the rack and had made my way to the costume rack. When he walked in, I was holding up a very promising Carmen Miranda outfit complete with sequined skirt, cumber-bun, bra, shoulder cape, and bright yellow hat with orange ear loops attached; all of these items were solid sequins, it was fabulous! Sonny said, “I’m not wearin’ that.” My eyes were big as saucers and I tried really hard to convince him but the saleslady finally told us that the costume’s skirt was tiny so it wouldn’t work out. Matters of taste and wrong sizes filtered out most of the dresses but, I kept bringing them in and it was a very delicate thing, because he was very close to bolting out the door at any minute. There was one dress that was black with wavy appliqué just around the hem of the skirt, arms, and square bodice. It had a nice full skirt and fit me like a glove. But, it had only a zipper that was about 10” under the armpit and no other obvious points of entry except over the head. The next thing that happened could have been one of two things: either my grandfather’s gift of figuring out how things worked kicked in or a recessive gene floated to the surface that understood how to put this thing on. At any rate, I very confidently put my arm through the right sleeve (the dress was short sleeved, covering the bicep), put my head through the neck, slipped my elbow through the opened zipper, and then poked my other arm through the other sleeve and zipped it up. It really was a nice fit for me…Sonny was interested but his testicles would not allow a clear path for him to do the same thing even though I showed him 3 times. We ended up with a turquoise and purple faux brocaded outer wrap with big, although subdued, buttons down the front and a brown fuzzy…almost like mist…collar attached. It looked like the wallpaper in a tasteful whorehouse. I liked it because the opportunities for accessorizing were unlimited, however, Sonny refused to wear earrings so we found a smart little Bakelite necklace that hung nicely in three loops just below his Adam’s apple. We decided, I think at the same moment, that something else was needed…but what?...and Sonny surprised me by piping up with, “Do you have a boa? We settled on a very puffy purple one that perfectly matched both the necklace and the dress and it also had gold ribbon sewn into the feathers. It was too much! I think Sonny was very happy with it. I was so happy to be a part of that with him! Awesome…
