*BLONDE EDITION* these are a FEW of my favorite things #3
*BLONDE EDITION* these are a FEW of my favorite things #3
because you wanted a little diversion, not a part-time job
I don’t know about you, but I get very overwhelmed by long-ass lists:
TWENTY BEST Places to Eat…!
55 PRODUCTS YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT!!
The 101 Books You MUST Read Before YOU DIE!!!
No, thanks. Even 10 can be a bit much sometimes.
Here are a FEW of my favorite things, because that’s how the song goes…
I used to have a platinum blonde wig I would pull out of a heap and dust off for a party now and then, and it was the STRANGEST thing ever the way people would respond to it—I mean, freaky, even for me.
The Marilyn Effect
I called it the Marilyn Effect and it was not just an isolated incident. Every time I put on The Wig, someone fell in love.
THERE WAS THE TIME the starry-eyed straight guy asked me to dance at a party, and I was technically in drag, for Halloween 1990—my college roommate Krisztina dressed as me, and I as her, but I only used mascara and a dab of lip gloss. Yes, Berzerkeley, but still, I was more than a little uncomfortable with his interest: were we having a “Crying Game” moment, or what?
ANOTHER TIME I wore The Wig out to the clubs on a lark, and a very butch lesbian made a serious play for me (seriously butch, seriously tempted.)
At our friend Shelby’s “GODS & GODDESSES” party, I went as “Banana Nicole” and some (semi?-)straight girl just could not get over me, like stalker vibes—we had met before and she never said two words to me until The Night of the Wig.
WORKING a Roman-themed party called “FEAST!” way back when—think scorpion dancers and human buffet—Wilhelmina Hottentot (aka a bewigged me) had official duties throughout the evening. A very cute but persistent young man became such a nuisance—every time I turned around, he was there, fertilizing my eggs with his eyes—we were forced to call “Security!”
OVER PILLOW TALK, one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence invited me to participate in the “Hunky Jesus” Easter contest in Dolores Park, and all but guaranteed me the Crown of Thorns if I wore The Wig (this was 40 lbs and 25 years ago, mind you.) I was forced to demur—I am not generally inclined to take actions which intentionally offend religious sensibilities.
CORNERED at a noted San Francisco design boutique’s annual Easter Hat Party (“A wig is just a hat with hair,” I explained) by a GORGEOUS (and much younger) straight French couple with the HUNGER clearly upon them, they declared me “ze most eenteresting person at zees party!”
“You have no idea,” I purred, then GOT THE HELL OUT OF THERE, all the while thinking: “Fucking Wig. AGAIN!”
You may be gathering it wasn’t The Wig to which these poor souls were responding so much as a breathy blonde SPIRIT which took possession of my usually timid self and channeled some long-suppressed BIG GODDESS energy—all languid poise, strategic pouts, and moony off-the-shoulder glances—and you may be right. Alas, it is a confidence of which I am almost completely bereft IRL.
Anyway, in honor of The Wig, which got tossed into the Catholic Charities donation bin when we moved to Spain (pretty sure an exorcism was in order,) I’m trotting out some oldies I’ve always loved.
I Need a Man - Eurythmics, 1987
Atomic - Blondie, 1980
Ooh La La - Goldfrapp, 2005
The lyrics of this last are so bloody good, I can’t resist:
Dial up my number now
Weaving it through the wire
Switch me on, turn me up
Don't want it Baudelaire
Just glitter lust
Switch me on, turn me up
I want to touch you you're just
Made for love
I need la la la la la
I need ooo la la la la
Calls up and round me
Teasing your poetry
Switch me on, turn me up
Oh child of Venus you're just
Made for love
You know I walk for days
I wanna waste some time
You wanna be so mean
You know I love to watch
I wanna love some more
I'll never be the same
A broken heel like a heart
I'll never walk again
- Lyrics by Alison Goldfrapp & Will Gregory
Lennox is brilliant in that video. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen her do.
Yes, your timid, timid self.