photo: Throngs of Gay Men attending the Muscle Beach Party on Miami Beach
Recently, it has come to my attention that I am simply just not keeping up with the rest of the gay community when it comes to wearing designer threads. It’s no secret that gay men are known for being on the cutting edge of fashion, and trust me, I am trying my damndest to keep up.
A few weeks ago I was at a beach party th
at was frequented by a rather large percentage of gay men. I was excited to sit back and relax while a throng of gay men would be undoubtedly running around in the sand while jumping up (hopefully in slow motion) to smack a volleyball or playfully splash one another (in even slower motion) while gallivanting in the ocean. Because this fantasy of male models couldn’t be erased from my mind, I was convinced that I had to come up with the perfect beach outfit. After washing some laundry that smelled like either really sweaty gym socks or really good cheese (it all depends on your perspective), I made sure to assemble an ensemble that would make guys say, “Hey, that guy looks good.” My simple mind was able to come up with a tight fitting white polo, some nicely pressed navy blue shorts, and some grey Top-Siders.
It was very New England gay.
When I arrived at the party, I noticed another guy wearing similar shorts. As he was attractive and I wanted to make conversation for no reason other than to meet him, I said, “Hey, are those shorts from J. Crew?”
What was I met with?
“Ummm, no,” the handsome man said with a tone that indicated I had just said something offensive. “They’re Prada.”
My response?
“Oh,” I replied while backing slowly away from the man with the designer shorts. I realized that my sartorial faux pas had offended him. Defeated and feeling poor, I walked away and retreated to the bar to buy some booze … cheap booze.
That’s when I started to wonder…where in the Sam Hill are all the homosexuals of the world coming up with money to buy designer clothes!? Why is everyone in South Florida living in the lap of luxury while I slave away at my job for 12 hours a day only to return home and eat a tin of cat food? Granted the cat food really helps cut down on the carb intake, but seriously, I would like to taste a bit of the sweet life once in awhile.
I guess it all comes down to me just not being lucky in life when it comes to being able to afford luxuries like gold plated flatware or running water. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe I should just be thankful that I wasn’t born missing any limbs or, even worse, being a part of that traveling band of gypsies referred to as “The Palin Family”. The point is that as much as the guy in Prada may make me feel inadequate for half a minute, I have to also recognize that I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. So, next time someone tells me that they’re shirt is D&G when I mistake it for something I saw just like it on the Kohl’s clearance rack, instead of slinking away like a disgraced serf, I shall look them in the eye and say, “Well, it looks very nice. And might I add that I am thankful that I have not one, but two, working legs.”
Maybe that’s a weird way to look at it, but at least it’s an affordable one.
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