pink jumpsuit magnet

Monday, April 25, 2005

That would be me.

Am currently going through the closet, sorting out my clothes, and have found my pink jumpsuit. For those who know nardac in the flesh, you're already well acquainted with her sartorial flair and strange hunger for hoarding "pieces." That's right folks, not just getting clothes, but more appropriately, having pieces.

What does that mean? Well, pieces are items of clothings that you can't wear everyday, like a sequined butterfly winged top, or a multi strapped and braided vinyl capri pants. I have a small hoard of these pieces that accompany at every turn, in case call should be made for some fancy dress party, or fashion after-party.

At those fashion parties, there's always the two groups, faced off, Jets and Sharks style. There's the fashionistas, ex and current models, designers, stylists, gay hanger-ons, and general semi-famous types with their wacky fashions and dangerous looks. These people are then sneered or adored by the other gang, those who believe in materials, conservative cuts, and not wearing anything that'll get them noticed at a circus... usually fashion journalists or PR types. (people whose jobs depend on waking up on time) You don't choose which camp you're in. You're born into it.

I can't say I've always been happy being a freak, but then, I haven't actually known any other way so I can't complain either. It's been a long and dusty ride. When I went through my fit of depression, at 27, I went through a serious tomboy B-girl phase. Nothing but hoodies, long sleeve Ts, jeans, t-shirts, sneakers... I was serious boy-style for a whole year. That's what depression and living in the middle of butt-fuck Roubaix will do to you. Kills every whimsical instinct available.

But, since moving back to civilisation, in this case Paris, I have regained a small modicum of my old self. So much so that I've managed to incur new mad friends. Friends who give you pink jumpsuits for your birthday.

Yup, that's right. I'm the proud owner of a pink jumpsuit. It's like a pilot jumpsuit, but in pink. I don't just carry pink, I own it... I own it's mother, it's step-daughter, I work it hard and it's not Gina on me... With a tiny slinky silver hip chain belt, this thing kicks ass.

The punchline? This is the second pink jumpsuit that has been given to me for my birthday!!! The first happened when I was 24. The father of one my Orange Pop guyfriends, himself a nutter, gave me a Hammer-style pink jumpsuit for my birthday. It had tapered balloon legs and a dipping decolletage. I never worked up the courage to wear it in public, though capered about in it privately.

So you ask yourself, how does a girl get to be a magnet for pink jumpsuits? Search me. I haven't a clue. But if I get a third one... (you can complete that thought)