Megalon vs. The Cross Dressed School Girls

With no pleasant company to distract and engage me at home, I took an evening out this weekend at the urging of friends at Paris in Decatur. OK, my dogs are compelling, delightful really, but here is what they were competing against:

“Petra, come to Sukiban (pronounced soo-KEE-bonn) on the 23rd. It’s a Tranny-Drag-Japanese Anime themed party night with a little burlesque thrown in. You’ll have a blast!”

This from Travis, proprietor of Paris a couple of weeks ago.

It sounded like an evening at which my typical day-appropriate fashion fare might not endear me to the environment. I knew I did not have the kit or the skills to run with the over-the-top Asian superhero/school-girl set, and so opted for a more generic youthful, able-bodied American nightclubber-chick look.

L’ensemble as follows: The American Apparel Turtleneck Dress over the Wolford Lines Tights slid in to the pointy, spiky 4" Nine West pumps all wrapped up in the I.N.C. leopard trench. Even with the smokiest eyes I could plaster on, lots of big flashy bling and a hemline 8” above the knee, I suspected I would be on the dullish end of the spectacle spectrum. I was correct.

I mean Holy Kimono Batgirl, what a mad parade. Hand painted fans sprang from tsunami-swept up-do’s, neon eye shadow glared out from alabaster faces, falsies clung for dear life to flimsy floral perches, and all this before even clearing the front door. There was some of the same class of fashion fun peppered here and there within, but on the whole the room just looked like a really good trail mix of regular folk. All orientations, ages and a good spectrum of complexions were out for the fun and looking forward to a good show. Some dressed for excess, but most for comfort.

Amongst the gathered were Phoebe and Heather, stalwarts of the local Tri-Ess chapter, with 6 or 8 sorority mates in tow. On the whole, the ladies were as nice and friendly a bunch as any random sampling of people with slightly pinched toes would be. Lots of small talk …how do you do’s, love the shoes, what do you do’s and etc. and some jostling for chairs and scarce bar front real estate as the club filled steadily up.

For entertainment, the lovely Bianca Nicole (pictured, below) was the headliner, and following quickly on the high heels of a pale and pretty Balinese dancer with 6” nails whose name sadly eludes me now.The Emcee whipped the crowd into a frenzy for Bianca who clearly puts a lot of love into her work. Impressive of appearance and fleet of foot, her lip synching was first rate. Tributes in the form of paper currency were encouraged, and so I waded up to the foot of the stage to tuck a tip into her remarkably lush décolletage. I never was much of a fan of strip clubs, and will confess to a moment of doubt as I made contact ... was this all just a tad familiar …? Evidently not. She tendered a graceful double-cheek air kiss and did not skip a beat. A total pro.

And a gorgeous one too. After her gig, she was back in jeans and a simple top, just glowing naturally at the bar. I could not not say hello and say a kind work or two about her performance. Perhaps it was that I was wearing a dress, but I completely mislaid my natural generous-guy impulse to buy a girl a drink, or at least put the offer out there. Daft and graceless. Must pay closer attention next time.

There was a lovely cast of characters met over the course of the evening. Travis, I loved the pink fishnets and tutu, thanks to the cashier with shopping tips for glitter eye make-up, and Susan it was great seeing you behind the bar again: Thanks for the nice words. Most charmingly of all I think though was Santa Claus. Yes, the most absolutely perfect Santa look alike was out of uniform and out for a night on the town in off-season denim drab. He went out of his way to tell me he thought I had great legs. I was flattered, of course, but wondered whether Santa was interested in a certain chimney, but in all likelihood he was just expressing an innocent and natural professional interest in stockings. God bless you Santa.

I could have stayed longer, but it seems with the years I am better able to avoid the cocktail of no-return, the poorly judged fork in the road that makes a late night too, too late for anyones good. I was home for mid-night and a vain (in every sense of the word) attempt to get a good photo taken. Not a AA battery in the house, and so the real camera was out of commission. I did what I could with the iPhone: please forgive the blurry and poorly lit results. The fending off paparazzi pose was the best I could muster. I promise to recreate the look in the not too distant future and do better justice to the outfit.

I’ll be meeting Mrs. B at the airport at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Can’t wait.

See you all later.

Update: Mrs. B is home safe! And I did manage to get a good (ok, better) shot of the outfit done. Presented for your viewing pleasure here....