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13 April 2009 @ 08:00 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 278: Question 278  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 890


What are you wearing?


What a peculiar question to ask. I suppose not so peculiar as I have been asked such a thing many times before, by many, many, many different people of varying ages, and genders. Over the phone, over email, via handwritten letter, text message, sticky note, I have been asked what I am wearing for many different reasons, in many different contexts, and as long as it isn’t an answer that does not want answering, or could get me into trouble if I did so, I usually give a reply. Whether it is known or not, aside from the sheer variation of people who might ask such a question, there are also several relevant situations of different originations in which it can be asked. A person could be at a suit maker, a dress maker, at the receiving end of an unctuous fashion columnist, they could be having phone sex, or could be interrogated by a lover tumultuously burning with desire. The question could come from a simply inquiring passerby, or an interviewer, even a child, wondering why a person is wearing what they wear, and what they might do or be doing in it if it is a particularly unusual costume.

What am I wearing now? Let me introduce my outfit by telling forth what I was wearing an hour ago. An hour ago I was wearing my normal affair, dress pants, a nice cotton shirt, a striped tie for a splash of colour, nice leather shoes and a lovely hat that a friend bought me in Paris. A few hours before that I had some slacks on, a comfortable pair of pants and a warm shirt with my work clothes over them, I was wearing some trainers as I pushed things around the morgue and took an x-ray of a particularly grisly car crash victim. In the end, a victim who incidentally hadn’t died of a car crash. Before I wore that I was wearing pyjamas with fragmented yellow paisley swirls on them. The car crash had happened around the time of a shift switch at the morgue, and it was my time to go anyway. I went to work rather early this morning, and now, oh now, it’s getting on to later in the day, and the night is just beginning. I have worn so many sets of clothes today, to fill as the people who study habits might say, certain roles within the structure of society. Sometimes it feels as if each organisation of clothing has a certain situation attached to it, a certain set of wants and needs, as well as expectations, and indeed it generally does. If it didn’t, people might wear nothing at all, or they might turn up to a funeral of a person who hated clowns, in a clown suit.

Ah, but now, now, I am wearing something entirely different. I have retrieved old pairs of clothing items from my closet, and a friend has bought over some clothing items to lend. I have put on stockings and slipped into a pair of specially tailored high heel shoes, designed for the large feet of men. I have on a form fitting sequined dress, and underwear unconventional, normally, for someone of my gender. I have had other unconventional things put down my front to make me look like something, someone else. In half an hour, I’ll be picked up in a limo with several other drag queens to fill an empty spot in an impromptu drag cabaret style show put on for someone who has just come out of hospital after their final gender reassignment surgery. For an hour or so before that, however, various other queer characters, both in the sexual meaning of the word, and the meaning that they’re just funny, will do my hair and makeup. I have a gaudy pair of glasses to wear so I can see the world just as well as I could with my others, and I’ll dance, kicking my legs high and brilliantly, to a crowded room of applause giving well wishers and other such folk.

The way we dress, the way people dress, does not matter to me. Yes, I have a certain aversion to people wearing things grossly inappropriate for them, such as the jumper two sizes too small that my sumo wrestler friend insists on wearing every Christmas, but generally I don’t mind. Oh hell, if I could only give every intricate detail of everything I’ve worn during my lifetime. While I may be largely straight, as far as sexual orientation goes, I do cross dress for the benefit of others. Normally, I am partial to smart, lovely clothing that feels and looks nice. Nice shirts, exquisite ties, eccentric bowties, dress pants, leather shoes, beaded shoes, painted sneakers. I dress, I dress particularly for every occasion! I dress to feel enjoyment, and joy, and spectacular, lovely, admiration for what I wear. I dress, oh I dress, for the love of dressing, and when I undress, I do it for the love of the body, the love of skin and touch and dulcet tones of lovely moans of satisfaction. Clothing does not make the man, nor the woman, but it does give rise to appearance and feeling, to texture, and perhaps in some way, a picture of the person as a whole.
 
 
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Current Music: Fruit Machine - The Ting Tings