A Sorry and (Part One Of) A Story

So, you may have noticed that it's been a while since I've written here...I have lots of reasons, like massive layoffs at work (I was spared, but now have more responsibility), illness, travel and writer's block that probably happened as a result of all of those things. It also happens that I've been a bit remiss in responding to a couple of questions, which sucks because I really like it when you ask me stuff. Please consider this my make-up post, an attempt at an apology for having stayed away too long, and I will now finally give you the attention you deserve.

Q: Do you have any idea where to find a pair of retro lacey gloves? I have this killer outfit, and I *need* gloves to finish the look. --from "Elizabeth"

A: One of the best sites I've found for gloves is GreatGlovesOnline.com. Yes, they have lacey gloves, but they also have dyeables, opera length, fishnet, leather, crochet, silk and pearl gloves, plus lots more. No matter what your budget is, you should be able to find at least one thing here that will work. They also have a million (or so) colors. I've ordered from them, and have been quite happy. And no, they're not paying me to recommend them! You can also take a trip back in time and read my post in June 2008 about gloves here.

Q: I was wondering if, one of these days, you might expound on your own entry into tight-lacing, perhaps including some of the mistakes you made along the way and how you got started? You mentioned false starts - were they a poor choice in the corset you began with? I'm not planning to make a go of it until the summer is over - it's already in the 90s here, so I'm sure it's going to be a hot one. I would really enjoy seeing someone else's journey as they entered this world. --from a private email

A: I remember very well when I announced to my man that I was going to start tight-lacing. I was wearing a backless dress, figuring that my time in them was limited if I'd soon be wearing a corset 24/7, and we were out to a very nice dinner. I swear he almost choked, but I'm pretty sure it was from excitement. Not long after that, we went down to our favorite fetish shop in Chelsea, and I tried on some styles. I had already been in a few, but never with the idea that I would actually wear one out of the dressing room, and it is a totally different mindset. This time, I paid more attention to what kind of shape I wanted--did I like a gentle curve, or a sharp wasp waist? If I was planning to wear it every day, did I really want one with the most exotic colors that would make it difficult to wear under light-colored clothing? Plus, overbusts were out of the picture, since underbusts are best suited to tightlacing, as I had read. I also had to make my tightlacing intentions clear to the salesperson, since not every corset is designed to withstand hours and hours of wear, day after day. (It should be mentioned that there is a great section on tightlacing in William and Gloria Brame's book, Different Loving. Even if you're not interested in corsets, it's a must-read if you want to learn more about the psychology of BDSM in its various forms.)

I decided on a blush-pink corset by a man named Shane Aaron, who used to work at the shop but had since relocated to Las Vegas and was filling custom orders from his studio there. I fell in love with a very light, silky fabric, had my measurements taken, and off went my order. A couple of months later, my corset arrived, and I was elated. I wore it out of the shop, my man's hand in mine, very proud. But then a few days later, the fabric appeared to be thinning. I brought it back to the shop, and it turned out I had confirmed Shane's fear that the corset material was too light for tightlacing. It couldn't stand 23 hours of wear, and couldn't hold up to the friction caused by rubbing against my clothes. The corset was sent back, and in a couple of months I had the exact same model in a more durable pink fabric.

For the first few weeks, I slept in my corset, as I understood this to be the true definition of tightlacing and if I was going to tightlace, then by God I was really going to do it. Eventually, though, I questioned whether sleeping in the corset was really making much of an impact on my shape, and I felt my skin needed some time to breathe. In addition, I thought it might also be good for the corset to rest. Even though the fabric was more durable than what the first corset was made of, it was still fairly light, and I reasoned that rolling around in bed probably wasn't good for the garment. Ultimately I think that sleeping in the corset helped me get used to wearing it, but then the need for that passed, and I felt quite comfortable while laced. (Rather, let's say reasonably comfortable. I don't care what anyone says. Corsets are not 'comfortable' in the strictest sense of the word, no matter how long you've been wearing them.)

More or less, that was Season One. The weather got too warm, and I sweated through the corset so I had to take a break. The perspiration was neither good for my skin or for the corset, as over time, sweat will basically eat the fabric, especially material that is on the delicate side. Which led to my decision for Season Two's corset, but that is another post.

Balle, balle!

Every week for a few months, I've gotten my ass kicked doing Masala Bhangra. You may have heard of it, but in case not, it's a cardio workout based on folk dance in Punjab, India. Recently, a woman named Sarina Jain developed a cardio workout, combining traditional bhangra with Bollywood dance moves, and the result is Masala (spicy) Bhangra. My gym has a class in Masala Bhangra taught by one of Sarina's students, and believe me when I say it is a tough workout. This class is known throughout the gym as "the one that makes you sweat"--my classmates report that the other aerobic dance classes are more like a brisk warmup compared to this.

One of the things that has been very interesting to me about bhangra is that, according to my teacher, the dance was developed for men and not women. As such, it's really not at all graceful like ballet, and it's not sexy like salsa; in fact, we are encouraged to keep our hips as straight as possible. There's lots of hopping and clapping, but there is also a great emphasis on shoulders. I've found this especially great because I carry all my stress in my shoulders, but rarely give them much attention, and it's been helpful to me in developing my burlesque routine (which will be another post entirely).

The most challenging thing for me, besides working up a vat of sweat, has been the importance of right and left. I know, I know…knowing your right from left is important for any dance, not to mention life, but for someone who still makes an 'L' with her hands to figure it out, it's hard. I've never been a dancer, and I guess I never really had to focus on it. But with Masala Bhangra, everything is moving so fast, and you can’t do most of the workout without a strong sense of direction which I have never had. Over the weeks, though, I think it might be coming to me. Every one of us, from the veterans to the newbies, makes mistakes in class, but finally, I'm not the one making the most anymore. Now my challenge is when first-timers try to join in the middle of the class, or even ten minutes after we've started. They're hopelessly lost, and it throws off the rest of the class. Masala Bhangra is a bit like line dancing, where you partly take your cues from the rest of the group--so when someone suddenly stops or turns the wrong way, it can really throw you off.

Because it is a man's dance, Masala Bhangra might seem a little odd to recommend to pin-up fans. But it works wonders for your calves, among other things, and if anything you become more aware of your sensuality in regular life once you've spent some time bottling it up. It's also worth noting that we've only ever had two men try and join the class. Only one has made it to the end of the class, but he hasn't returned since.

Pinup Wakeup

Sometimes, people are surprised to learn that I haven't been super-feminine my whole life. Usually this comes up when someone sees me wearing jeans for the first time. Although I do own a couple of pairs of pants, they rarely come out of the dresser, emerging only for things like moving days or an extremely long flight (I hate flying, and tend to contort myself to try and get comfortable, which is difficult in a skirt and a tiny space). But the truth is that I used to wear pants almost exclusively. I've always loved getting dressed up, but pants were my first choice when it came to workaday clothes.

I think a lot of this has to do with my mother's influence. My mom has always been heavy, and her long, nondescript denim or twill skirts are her way of hiding her legs. She owns very little makeup, has kept her hair the same way for as long as I've been alive, and doesn't care for manicures, pedicures or facials. All of her clothing is functional, practical. Growing up, she was my example, and like most parents, tended to dress me and my sisters the same way she dressed herself, usually with very little in the way of frills or accessories. When I wanted to pick out my own clothes to wear and sought guidance about how to know what colors go with each other, she directed me to my older sister. She hedged when I wanted to learn how to shave my legs, and finally taught me only when I came home from camp one summer, having been mercilessly teased for being the only girl there who didn't shave. Not to be too cliché, but my parents never told me I was pretty or complimented anything about my appearance--a habit I may have picked up, with my man now pointing out to me that I never say anything about how he looks.

My resources became magazines like Seventeen, my older sister, my friends and people I saw on the street. To this day, I look at other women for the purpose of picking up style ideas and inspiration. However, let's be honest; I grew up in the Midwestern suburbs where Abercrombie & Fitch and Express were considered high fashion. By the time I graduated high school, I had learned enough about myself to know what looked good on me and what didn't. I was handy with makeup though I didn't wear much of it. My style then was kind of punky, which worked at eighteen. I went to college, studied theatre and joined a sorority, so I had my foot in the doors of both creativity and plastic preppiness, but I was still living in the middle of a prairie so clothes weren't too adventurous. In terms of style, neither were the people. My look grew up, but wasn't anything special.

Then, I moved to New York for graduate school, right after finishing college, and a floodgate was opened. In New York, it's somewhat easy to be anonymous, so if you try something and it doesn't work, no one will remember or notice it. Besides, there's probably someone walking ten steps behind you who is wearing something stranger. Nobody in New York had any ideas or preconceptions about who I was, so I could reinvent myself entirely if I wanted. Being a graduate student, I didn't have a lot of many to spend on clothes, but the freedom itself was exhilarating.

I met my man about six months after I moved to the city. He looked at me with fresh eyes, and could see someone who liked to play with clothes and makeup, but whose girliness remained closeted. He constantly made me feel like the most beautiful person in the room no matter what I was wearing, which gave me the confidence to branch out and adopt the nostalgic pin-up style I had always admired. I learned that being a woman is great, and it's okay to have fun with it. Looking my best suddenly equated with adding beauty to the world, a noble endeavor not only for the people around me but also for myself.

So here I am now, with no holds barred on dressing the way I want. When I was young, I was taught that Elvgren- and Vargas-type paintings were porn, but inside I always loved them and thought they were much more. Finally, I'm having as much fun as the woman with the wind up her skirt, proud to give us a glimpse at what's underneath.

All that glitters

Some of you may have read my post over a year ago about my secret desire to be a pinup model. Well, I've taken the plunge and am moving towards doing the thing I've really always wanted to do--burlesque.

The New York School of Burlesque is the place to go for New York's aspiring ecdysiasts, or for people who just want to try something fun. The school's headmistress is Jo 'Boobs' Weldon, who has been dancing for almost as long as I've been alive. She genuinely loves teaching, looks fabulous, and is insanely smart about burlesque and its history. Jo works her butt off performing all over the world, just came out with a DVD, runs Burlesque Daily and has a book coming out in the fall. Truly, she's dedicated.

In our first class we learned some classic burlesque moves--the bump, grind, shimmy and a few more--and then we went on to tassel twirling. I have never seen my breasts do what they did with those pasties on, and I adore the fact that I can walk around knowing how to whip things with my tits. To be honest, the actual twirling was not something I totally loved, but I do love that I know how to do it. I think I just like watching it more. Some of the girls in my class seemed to really have a knack for it, but I just don't think it's quite my strong suit.

Speaking of the other girls in my class, there could hardly be a greater variety of women. We are all different shapes, sizes, colors and ages, and we're probably all taking the class for our own unique reasons as well. For me, I figure I live once, and I'd really hate to be at the end of my life regretting things I didn't do when I had the chance. If I were to go and perform with any regularity, and if my day job found out, I could probably be fired for some ethics violation. Losing a job is serious business, perhaps especially these days, but really...there are other things in life and everything happens for a reason. We've all got to live our lives in a way that we can be proud of, and for me, that happens to include taking my clothes off under hot lights and glitter. At least once.

Favorite Things Roundup

1. Oscar Favorites

The best part of the Oscars for me is the fashion. I find the handing out of awards to be extremely arbitrary, but the choice of what dress to wear is very deliberate. There were not any dresses this year that absolutely blew me away, but still, there were a few I liked. Sarah Jessica Parker's dress was one I liked, primarily for the color, the beading and the belting. It looked to me like a fairy princess dress I might have wanted to pull out from my dress-up trunk as a child, and that was just plain fun to me. Marisa Tomei's dress also caught my eye--those pleats were incredible, especially on the train. I could have done without the one-shoulder, though. The rest of the dress was already playing with assymetrical lines, and for me, the lone shoulder strap pushed that balance over the edge. I was pleasantly surprised by Miley Cyrus' dress as well. I loved the scallopped petals on the skirt and the belt, and it was a very appropriate choice for a young lady (unlike last year, she's too young for red). It wasn't too sexy or flashy, nor was it frumpy, just...classy.

2. Chocolate

I've always had a sweet tooth, but for some reason it has been especially active this month. In my mind, there is no better to start and end the day than with something sweet. Everybody knows chocolate is sexy, and perfect for pinups. My favorite kind of chocolate is white, but I succumb to the marketing gods at Marie Belle and will eat any kind of chocolate if it's packaged like this.

3. Kerastase products

Going to the salon to get my hair done is one of my favorite things, and one of the reasons I love it so much is for how my hair feels and looks afterward. They use Kerastase products almost exclusively, and with good reason. Their mousse is light and effective, their hair spray holds all day but is touchable, and their shine serum leaves your hair silky but not greasy. My only issue with Kerastase is that they are not at all economical. But if you want something special, Kerastase is what ought to be in your bag of tricks for perfect pinup hair.

Not So Peachy in Georgia

I was sitting on the couch this morning, undoing my pin curls, when a disturbing piece of news came up on CNN: State lawmakers in Georgia are protesting the teaching of queer theory and other courses in sexuality at George State University. (Here's the clip that CNN showed today.) The whole thing started when state Representative Calvin Hill asked his constituents to review courses being taught at public universities, in an effort to cut courses due to a tight budget.  When some constituents came to him saying the university taught classes in oral sex, male prostitution and queer theory, Hill denounced queer theory and GSU professors had to defend their work before the state's House Higher Education Committee.  His counterpart, state Representative Charlice Byrd, also belittled the teaching of courses in sexuality.

I'm a firm believer that professors and their methods should never be ignored; when administrators turn a blind eye to a poor teacher, the students suffer.  And I understand that because the university is publicly funded, perhaps legislators felt that they should also be included in this review process. However, I wonder about how often math teachers are reviewed by the state of Georgia, or perhaps they leave that to the people who have been hired to head the math department.  I see this as a double-standard, and it irritates me, but what really made me furious was the questioning of sex-related courses in higher education.

As one of the professors says in the clip, the definition of sex has been in flux ever since Monicagate.  As is also mentioned, examining the role of homosexuals in literature is no less worthy a subject than examining the role of heterosexual men in literature. Now, referring to yourself in an expert guide as an expert on male prostitution may not be the best way to market yourself as a serious academic, but I do happen to think there is value in gaining a better understanding of why people sell themselves for sex and its effect on our culture.  And Hill saying that queer theory is not a worthwhile area of study? Congratulations on slamming the work of (at minimum) hundreds of academics, sociologists, psychologists, authors and artists.
I know I may be biased here, as someone who has gone deeply into debt for my education and who prides it above all else. Some day, my looks will go, my body will sag, but nobody can take away what I learned in my twenty years of formal schooling.  When I hear someone say a subject is not worthy of study, or claim that it is a universal waste of time, what I really hear is someone who is afraid to learn.  Rep. Hill and Rep. Byrd would do better to open their minds and speak with the professors and students who take these courses, and to educate themselves on what comes of these studies, before they decide whether or not it is worth taxpayer money.

Valentine's Day has never been a particularly big deal for me, perhaps because I didn't usually have a date. Now that I do have a constant date, though, it still isn't that big a deal, and we have never made a big deal of it. I think Valentine's Day is a reason for people to spend time together and celebrate love--which is not something most people take time to really cherish. It's easy to take partners for granted.

However, this year we decided to go out to dinner. In years past we've cooked a nice dinner at home, but a few months back we discovered a tasty, creative restaurant in the neighborhood and were looking for an excuse to return to it. Valentine's Day seemed like a good one, plus my man leaves today for a business trip.

Unfortunately, the restaurant was a disappointment. Whereas before, my man and I had dined on foods we never would have tried, and sauces made with ingredients we would never have thought to combine, the Valentine's Day menu was just dull. For the entrees, they offered a standard fish dish, a roast chicken dish, and a steak. There was no option for dessert either, so you either took what they had or nothing at all.

Still, the evening was far from a bust. We made each other Valentine's day cards, me using my sewing skills, and he using his drawing skills. The conversation over a disappointing meal was lovely as always, and undisturbed by the cares of dining at home--there were no loud neighbors, no animals pestering us for attention, and no dishes to do at the end. And after dinner we of course had great sex. All in all, it was a wonderful evening. Expectations for a special night can be high, but as long as you have one key ingredient--a pair of people deeply in love--you really can't go wrong.