So now I'm going to try to figure out what I'm going to write about. I'll work out the placement of each chapter later.
Cast of charachters - Augusta Block, Tamee Whynot, Vera Cruise, Beryl Merado, Constance Vigilence,Princess Shewanalaya and Maria Panatella.
Questions I have to answer?
When was the first time they dressed in drag?
What kind of "day jobs" do they have?
Where did they meet? Who met first?
Whose idea is the first heist?
Who wants to go on Drag Race with Ru Paul?
Breast Cancer walk
Who lived another life before coming out?
Glitter nails on HSN
Who carriers the "man-bag" that has been "bedazzled"?
Where do they keep their clothes?
Is anyone a seamstress?
Where did they learn to put on make up?
Who are their role models
Back room at the sports bar
Who knows about their alter-egos?
Who wants to have the operation and who wants to just dress up?
Where do they live?
An unexpected friend
I need to find:
a fashion guru who understands the "large women's issues"
a clothing retailer with a sense of humor
several drag queens who will share
Monday, May 11, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
The beginning of the book
From time to time I'm going to put in writing some of the story lines I want to include in my book. If you don't me you really won't get this. Even if you do know me - I'm not even sure why this story came to me - it feels like a memory. I'm going to just type. I know I'll have lots of typos and unclear subjects. That's why I'm doing this. So that one day I can put it all together.
Once upon a time I was a realtor - not a good one - but I had gotten into the business at the perfect time - houses sold as quickly as you put them on the market. And so, when I was approached by the president of a local bank to show his wife some properties I was thrilled. They were looking for investment properties and I was looking for commissions. I was ready to show her anything she wanted to see. We planned to spend one day a week looking for a few "fixer uppers" around the city. We went to the high end neighborhoods and some that were the best house in the worst neighborhoods. I was bored and hot but kept a smile on my face as we trudged on. Then on the fourth day of our house hunting excursions we made an appointment to see a place in a wonderfully eclectic neighborhood. Every house looked different from the others. A neighborhood with "personality". It had been named one of the 10 best "cottage" neighborhoods in the country. Walking into the "tastefully" landscaped bungalow that day I had no idea I was taking my first steps into an incredibly fun, heartbreaking, exciting adventure full of drama and dancing and so much more. But I digress. The story has to be told as it unfolded.
Before I go on, I need to say that the banker's wife was lovely, nice, a little timid and as I came to realize - REALLY sheltered. If she were to read this story she would never realize it was her I was talking about. She was there but didn't see what I saw.
I had to use my electronic key to enter the house and, as we had been taught in real estate school, I was to step back to allow the potential buyer into the house to see it first. She walked in slowly - taking in the molding around the top of the walls and the wonderful wood floors and as she moved further into the house as I left myself in.
As I closed the door behind me I saw a huge - I am talking 5 foot high - poster of Judy Garland. I moved a little closer to the picture. Directly beneath it was a set of shelves - covered with what I thought were Judy G's nik naks only to discover it was a shrine to all things gay. There was a Barbara Streisand section complete with all of B's albums, biographies and all other forms of memorabilia. I smiled to myself because I knew the owners of this home were not only gay, they were "full out" gays. I was so happy - I love gay men - not sure why but I do. And since no one was around except the bankers wife who was happily opening the appliances and cupboards in the kitchen I looked closer. I found a Whitney Houston shelf, a Cher collage and scattered around were little framed pictures of George Clooney and Huge Jackman. I quietly - to myself - did a little happy dance. I was in love with the house and I was still in the front room!
I went into the PERFECT kitchen (I wanted to stay for dinner) and as I moved on I found the first bathroom. Looking back I should have said a "thank you" prayer to the universe. The bathroom was a thing of beauty. It was painted the color of a full-bodied Merlot. It was so dark it was almost black. And then I found the light switch and as I flipped it to the on position I looked up to see the most incredible bathroom sized chandelier - (who knew they made them so small?) I feel certain that if I had ever been in a french bordello it wouldn't have been as ornate as this room. There we candles everywhere, a small table with a dozen perfume bottles on the top, silk flowers held back the curtains to a club footed bathtub and next to the sink was a small velvet fainting couch that perfectly matched the walls and the gold of the fixtures in the sink and tub. Before I knew it I was reclining on the couch and squeezing those perfume bottles with glee. I felt as if I had stumbled into another dimension. The GAY dimension. It was incredible!
And then I heard the banker's wife calling me to help her open a closet in the master bedroom. It was there where the real adventure began...
Once upon a time I was a realtor - not a good one - but I had gotten into the business at the perfect time - houses sold as quickly as you put them on the market. And so, when I was approached by the president of a local bank to show his wife some properties I was thrilled. They were looking for investment properties and I was looking for commissions. I was ready to show her anything she wanted to see. We planned to spend one day a week looking for a few "fixer uppers" around the city. We went to the high end neighborhoods and some that were the best house in the worst neighborhoods. I was bored and hot but kept a smile on my face as we trudged on. Then on the fourth day of our house hunting excursions we made an appointment to see a place in a wonderfully eclectic neighborhood. Every house looked different from the others. A neighborhood with "personality". It had been named one of the 10 best "cottage" neighborhoods in the country. Walking into the "tastefully" landscaped bungalow that day I had no idea I was taking my first steps into an incredibly fun, heartbreaking, exciting adventure full of drama and dancing and so much more. But I digress. The story has to be told as it unfolded.
Before I go on, I need to say that the banker's wife was lovely, nice, a little timid and as I came to realize - REALLY sheltered. If she were to read this story she would never realize it was her I was talking about. She was there but didn't see what I saw.
I had to use my electronic key to enter the house and, as we had been taught in real estate school, I was to step back to allow the potential buyer into the house to see it first. She walked in slowly - taking in the molding around the top of the walls and the wonderful wood floors and as she moved further into the house as I left myself in.
As I closed the door behind me I saw a huge - I am talking 5 foot high - poster of Judy Garland. I moved a little closer to the picture. Directly beneath it was a set of shelves - covered with what I thought were Judy G's nik naks only to discover it was a shrine to all things gay. There was a Barbara Streisand section complete with all of B's albums, biographies and all other forms of memorabilia. I smiled to myself because I knew the owners of this home were not only gay, they were "full out" gays. I was so happy - I love gay men - not sure why but I do. And since no one was around except the bankers wife who was happily opening the appliances and cupboards in the kitchen I looked closer. I found a Whitney Houston shelf, a Cher collage and scattered around were little framed pictures of George Clooney and Huge Jackman. I quietly - to myself - did a little happy dance. I was in love with the house and I was still in the front room!
I went into the PERFECT kitchen (I wanted to stay for dinner) and as I moved on I found the first bathroom. Looking back I should have said a "thank you" prayer to the universe. The bathroom was a thing of beauty. It was painted the color of a full-bodied Merlot. It was so dark it was almost black. And then I found the light switch and as I flipped it to the on position I looked up to see the most incredible bathroom sized chandelier - (who knew they made them so small?) I feel certain that if I had ever been in a french bordello it wouldn't have been as ornate as this room. There we candles everywhere, a small table with a dozen perfume bottles on the top, silk flowers held back the curtains to a club footed bathtub and next to the sink was a small velvet fainting couch that perfectly matched the walls and the gold of the fixtures in the sink and tub. Before I knew it I was reclining on the couch and squeezing those perfume bottles with glee. I felt as if I had stumbled into another dimension. The GAY dimension. It was incredible!
And then I heard the banker's wife calling me to help her open a closet in the master bedroom. It was there where the real adventure began...
Monday, May 4, 2009
Where did she go?
I was born on the same day as my oldest sister - Stefi. I was born shortly after midnight and when my father went home he woke Stefi and said "happy birthday - it's a girl". I have shared my birthday physically together with Stefi for the majority of my life. Stefi has always said I was her favorite birthday present and I felt like she would always be around to be counted on for her strength and brilliant mind. But lately I feel like Stefi has left her body and some other person is in charge. I find myself asking "where did Stefi go" so often.
Stefi is bi-polar. I think perhaps all of my sisters and I have that same tendancy to get out of control - sort of binge talking/dancing/singing. It's triggered by little things - sometimes by just our being together in one room. When we all lived in the same house we would put on "shows" most nights after dinner. Our mother said we must have been "allergic to food" because we would get so wild after eating. There was some truth to that but I don't think Stefi's issue was allergies.
Stefi - being the first born - had a lot of attention and even more expectations placed on her by our parents and their parents. She was/still is beautiful, very intelligent and took her role as big sister very seriously. I don't ever remember her telling me to go away or to not bother her. She always had time to be with us. If there was a song playing on the radio she was the first to get up and dance. Her specialty was a striptease (after she had put on almost all of the clothes in her closet). We could always count on her to wake up happy - like our father does - even today.
Stefi is gay. Honestly - I've never really understood the big deal about it. I somehow always knew this information but it didn't change who she was to me (or any of the other sisters). When our parents found out about it they pretended they had no idea and were shocked. She was living with some "interesting" friends at the time (seriously - no one can tell me they didn't know when her friends/roomates - all male - called themselves "the supremes". They wore make up and women's clothing and I just thought they were fun to be with). My father drove to her apartment in the middle of the night and banged on her front door and when she answered he told her she was dead to him. He told her she was no longer his daughter. I don't think I saw her except for birthdays for 5 years. This experience took a huge toll on her and she has never gotten over it even though she and dad have reconciled.
About 15 years ago - after 2 failed long-term relationships Stefi began acting erractically - spending lots and lots of money and being stoned more than she was not. She was able to hold down jobs and paid her bills on time (with the help of her girlfriends) but now she started wanting to spend more and more time with our mother. She wanted to be that little girl who was loved and adored by her parents. She started acting like she was digressing in age. Stefi alone - without a relationship to give her an identity is about 5 years old.
One of the last conversations I had with my mother was about Stefi and mom asked that I watch out for Stefi because she was the one mom had the most concern about. And so I've spent these years slowly becoming Stefi's big sister. She isn't herself anymore.
Stefi is living independently and has made some friends (who she considers family). 2 gay male friends. I don't think Stefi has had many non-romantic relationships with other women except her sisters. She doesn't really seem to have an identity without someone else in her life.
I remember once I was being interviewed for some newspaper. It was a long time ago - maybe 25 years ago. - anyway - they asked my opinion about some issue and not wanting to sound uninformed like I was - I called Stefi and she of course knew everything about the subject so I had an answer. That's what I remember - her intellect - her sense of humor - her willingness to be silly and her love of books. She smelled them before reading (that helped her decide to read or not to read). I don't think she has finished a book in years.
She has become a shadow of herself and it makes me so sad. And I keep wondering where Stefi is. I miss her and want her back!
Stefi is bi-polar. I think perhaps all of my sisters and I have that same tendancy to get out of control - sort of binge talking/dancing/singing. It's triggered by little things - sometimes by just our being together in one room. When we all lived in the same house we would put on "shows" most nights after dinner. Our mother said we must have been "allergic to food" because we would get so wild after eating. There was some truth to that but I don't think Stefi's issue was allergies.
Stefi - being the first born - had a lot of attention and even more expectations placed on her by our parents and their parents. She was/still is beautiful, very intelligent and took her role as big sister very seriously. I don't ever remember her telling me to go away or to not bother her. She always had time to be with us. If there was a song playing on the radio she was the first to get up and dance. Her specialty was a striptease (after she had put on almost all of the clothes in her closet). We could always count on her to wake up happy - like our father does - even today.
Stefi is gay. Honestly - I've never really understood the big deal about it. I somehow always knew this information but it didn't change who she was to me (or any of the other sisters). When our parents found out about it they pretended they had no idea and were shocked. She was living with some "interesting" friends at the time (seriously - no one can tell me they didn't know when her friends/roomates - all male - called themselves "the supremes". They wore make up and women's clothing and I just thought they were fun to be with). My father drove to her apartment in the middle of the night and banged on her front door and when she answered he told her she was dead to him. He told her she was no longer his daughter. I don't think I saw her except for birthdays for 5 years. This experience took a huge toll on her and she has never gotten over it even though she and dad have reconciled.
About 15 years ago - after 2 failed long-term relationships Stefi began acting erractically - spending lots and lots of money and being stoned more than she was not. She was able to hold down jobs and paid her bills on time (with the help of her girlfriends) but now she started wanting to spend more and more time with our mother. She wanted to be that little girl who was loved and adored by her parents. She started acting like she was digressing in age. Stefi alone - without a relationship to give her an identity is about 5 years old.
One of the last conversations I had with my mother was about Stefi and mom asked that I watch out for Stefi because she was the one mom had the most concern about. And so I've spent these years slowly becoming Stefi's big sister. She isn't herself anymore.
Stefi is living independently and has made some friends (who she considers family). 2 gay male friends. I don't think Stefi has had many non-romantic relationships with other women except her sisters. She doesn't really seem to have an identity without someone else in her life.
I remember once I was being interviewed for some newspaper. It was a long time ago - maybe 25 years ago. - anyway - they asked my opinion about some issue and not wanting to sound uninformed like I was - I called Stefi and she of course knew everything about the subject so I had an answer. That's what I remember - her intellect - her sense of humor - her willingness to be silly and her love of books. She smelled them before reading (that helped her decide to read or not to read). I don't think she has finished a book in years.
She has become a shadow of herself and it makes me so sad. And I keep wondering where Stefi is. I miss her and want her back!
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