Mardi Gal.

The quality of my hallucinations and other distortions of memory is really first rate. Good enough in fact that I don’t bother with premium cable offerings or with upgrading to high-def. Why buy the cow when the milk is free, yes? So when I shared with you last month the particulars of a mid-week drab musical cabaret I had attended here in my adopted home town, Atlanta, I was not absolutely certain of the provenance of the tale. I am happy to report today, that everything I described then did not happen exclusively in the spirit world, and in fact was revisited yesterday.

I received a reminder from locally adored performer Sue Nami to drop into The Heretic again, and this time on a favorite celebration of excess, Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Mardi Gras. In my families tradition, Mardi Gras was also known as Pancake Tuesday, and as such, a liberal slathering of facial pancake seemed very much in order. With that done, the wig combed out, and me in the belted black knit tunic over the wet-look capri leggings, off I toddled again to for a little mid-day revelry. I did make an effort to accessorize appropriately, with nice triple looped set of beads liberated briefly from the permanent collection of Mrs. Bellejambes.

No big surprise on a holiday of sorts, the crowd was bigger and more full throated than the January party. A really good mix of guys and gals, singles and pairs, young and less so. The entertainment commenced right on the noon button with Miss Edie (poorly pictured at right) strumming a beautiful old Gretsch and wringing sweet Willie Nelson notes from deep within a lovingly crafted Western themed ensemble. Sue Nami towered above the room behind the keyboard in a red organza number with the flared long skirt, and needed to duck to avoid wig-bruises on the door jambs. No pictures, friends, they just don't do the overall impact justice. Miss Edie described the effect of Sue’s look as being like a stop sign on a ski hill.

The pork chops, rice, beans and corn bread flowed freely as did the beer and other such libations. I joined Ramona and a mutual friend Debbie at table and caught up on things in general. It really does not take too long for an odd scene to normalize. Not entirely normal, but pretty close. Lots of Mardi Gras beads were in evidence, but apart from the principal performers, myself, and Debbie, there were no other people “dressed” for the event.

Amongst the civilians were Linle and Ian. We had chatted briefly about fashion the last time out here, and true to their word, they were back for more. Ian as it happens, is a musician, and did a guitar and vocal guest spot hammering out a terrific solo version of Pinball Wizard and a not-so-gentle love ballad, the lyrics of which are a bit saucy for this blog. This was not a paying gig for Ian unless you count the generous boob nuzzling that Sue allowed Ian at the conclusion of his performance. Happy Birthday Ian, thanks for the song, and hey Linle, you are a total star… I hope you get the job you were talking about.

3 other performers did terrific turns including Lola at the keyboard, an unnamed blues tune guy, and the owner of The Heretic who channeled Bonnie Raitt and brought the house down. A big churchy finale from Sue signaled the end of the revelry and most folks, myself included, decompressed from this odd deep dive and went back to real life.

My re-entry to normal orbit was briefly postponed as I noticed the yard guy busily working away on the not so expansive Bellejambes grounds. You really have to think quickly at moments. There was simply no way for me to pull up, close the garage door and not say howdy, and so I did the drive-by and detoured to a nearby mall to bide time till the coast was clear. I am proud to report that with an hour of browsing, I was able to fight the urge to buy things that were less than perfect and/or redundant. I am a Cross Dresser on a budget after all.

For any of you based in or near Atlanta, the next Miss Edie / Sue Nami gig is scheduled for 16 March at The Heretic. If you can manage it, en femme or in drab, I guarantee you will have a good time, and suggest a 99% likelihood that you will see me there now that I am 99% certain that I am not hallucinating.

In between now and then, I promise faithful readers concluding posts on the recent Pantyhose Parade high-waisted fight out, the Seven Deadly Cross Dressing Sins, and a newish entry on the economics of Cross Dressing.

Those I will pen out while enjoying my own Lenten observance of no mid-week drinking. I suppose I will let myself off the chain for lunch at The Heretic next month, and perhaps a little toast for Saint Patrick’s Day. Moderation in all things, including moderation.

Happy Dressing, and everything else.