hot pink + smoking.
It began as a dare.
Finding them hard to resist when they don't include futile attempts to get me to render myself naked and/or ingest unfamiliar things, it seemed a reasonable dare. With little to hide the idea of keeping an ongoing blog was intriguing - especially as I do seem to have more cat lives than most - and on occassion I get further dared to tell stories of some of the livelier moments. Regardless of time/age/space, they never seem to quiet down when you live in the middle of NYC's more eccentric characters. Rethink. MOST eccentric characters. Myself excluded of course.
Point in case: I came here as an extremely naive 16 year old when Abe Beame was mayor, crime was a fact of life, graffitti was art, and drugs were a food stuff. I moved to a small one bedroom apartment across from the Mothers Sound Stage on 5th street between 2/3 aves where every morning a drag queen in full makeup sat on the stoop in a hot pink quilted housecoat with coffee and a fresh pack of cigarettes. I had no idea at that point how she managed to keep her skin so smoothe with all that smoking going on [this is before I understood the subtleties of full on makeup and how much it could hide] and though i was from a "nice town" outside of the city, I somehow knew that she was indeed a man. It amused me no end.
I miss seeing her on her stoop every day.
Finding them hard to resist when they don't include futile attempts to get me to render myself naked and/or ingest unfamiliar things, it seemed a reasonable dare. With little to hide the idea of keeping an ongoing blog was intriguing - especially as I do seem to have more cat lives than most - and on occassion I get further dared to tell stories of some of the livelier moments. Regardless of time/age/space, they never seem to quiet down when you live in the middle of NYC's more eccentric characters. Rethink. MOST eccentric characters. Myself excluded of course.
Point in case: I came here as an extremely naive 16 year old when Abe Beame was mayor, crime was a fact of life, graffitti was art, and drugs were a food stuff. I moved to a small one bedroom apartment across from the Mothers Sound Stage on 5th street between 2/3 aves where every morning a drag queen in full makeup sat on the stoop in a hot pink quilted housecoat with coffee and a fresh pack of cigarettes. I had no idea at that point how she managed to keep her skin so smoothe with all that smoking going on [this is before I understood the subtleties of full on makeup and how much it could hide] and though i was from a "nice town" outside of the city, I somehow knew that she was indeed a man. It amused me no end.
I miss seeing her on her stoop every day.
posted by yoyobunny at 12:27 PM
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