A World Away From Bleecker Street

You can take the boy out of New York, but not his wardrobe. I may have moved out of New York, but my sweaters, coats and khakis scream, ” No, no keep in the Village please!” I’ve been back in California for a while and find it hard to give up black and dressing formally for every occasion including hanging out by the pool.

Recently, I took a huge plunge in my couture selection. After being invited to a gay pool party, the voyage to find a most appropriate outfit commenced. The party was being held at our friend Lucas’ house. I was carpooling to the shindig with my buddies Melinda, Caitlin and Gaston. The weather felt like hell. Logically speaking, I opted to wear shorts. A scary decision, since I wouldn’t go to the supermarket without looking like I am headed to Carnegie Hall for a performance.

I coordinated my outfit, a black shirt and grey patterned shorts. Staring down were my legs while observing them in the mirror, I realized they haven’t seen the light of day, since 1999. When I went out to meet my friends, everyone’s jaw dropped. I thought to myself ” do I have a nose hair sticking out?” I looked at everyone in the car and they were either wearing trousers or jeans.

I almost died, for the first time I was undressed for something. Everyone laughed at me. I felt naked and not a sweater in sight to protect me. So, I accepted my hairy legs, skinny arms and drove off into the sunset.

We arrived at the party. I mingled, but the shock value that I was casually dressed persisted. However, I found a way to have fun. I enjoyed a few whiskies on the rocks and avoided being thrown in the pool. Overall, going out in shorts and a t-shirt felt liberating.

Usually, I wear buttoned up shirt and have perpetual hot flashes. With my casual look it diminished. For those wondering what I look like in shorts, no photo evidence exists. Not to worry, I still have plenty of pictures in my New York uniform.

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