The Musings of the Absolutely Fabulous Ms. N.

Here is one of Kev's um..stories. I didn't ask his permission to post it but I don't think he will mind. This version is from his writing.com page but you can also find a version of it on his blog.


I need a drag-queen personal shopper.Not for me, mind you. I’m not exactly one for flashy clothes, I don’t do justice to any designer handbags, and I’m far too klutzy in normal shoes to even attempt a walk in heels. I need a DQPS for my girlfriend.

Noemi is a fashionista (or label whore, depending on who you ask) - she knows her stuff when it comes to style. She can look at a handbag and determine instantly what shoes best bring out its inner beauty. She can scan the overflowing racks at any clothing store when the new lines come in and, without so much as breaking a sweat, isolate the passing fads from the garments that will endure. She has a quality that I can’t quite put into words, but if I could the words would probably be French.

I, by contrast, am fashion-blind. I look at the clothing stores and see racks and racks of garments that all seem pretty much the same. I go apparel shopping with all the gusto I can muster, but eventually I get overwhelmed and wind up spending my time finding out which of the round racks spin fastest. (In case your wondering, tightly packed racks don’t lose as much of their kinetic energy as sparser ones. Swinging garments create drag which slows down the spin.)

This would not be a problem if I was a regular guy who paid no attention whatsoever to buying his significant other gifts that she’d like, use, and/or appreciate. In fact, were I the type who thought a big-screen TV or a bowling ball pre-drilled to my finger size constituted romantic gifts, my life would be much easier. Ignorance is bliss, after all. That is, until you come home one day to a bowling ball in your big-screen TV.

Alas, I have been cursed with good intentions. So I try. And it doesn’t always work well.

What am I to do? I don’t get what makes a handbag fashionable. I don’t get why one pair of shoes accents an outfit while another pair – though very similar – fails to compliment it. And I don’t get why you can’t match black with blue. But I want to buy gifts for Noemi, and she is someone who does get all this stuff. I want to be able to give her gifts that make her feel as special as she makes me feel.

Herein lays the need for a drag-queen personal shopper. Apparently drag-queens are very much in tune with the world of fashion. They have a sixth sense, it seems, that your average man does not possess. What gives them this extra sight, I do not know. They are able to reach into the recesses of their minds somehow and tap into something deeper. I suspect it might have to do with the tightness of their tuck-unders.

I don’t know if I have it in me to fill the Straight Guy role on Queer Eye. I would look good for the end of the episode and then gradually regress to something similar to what I am now. Plus I’m not sure how I’d feel about Carson peering in on me when I’m changing. I’m not sure which is worse – him trying to flirt with me or him not. He flirts with all the other straight guys. Am I not good enough? Yet just because I am less inclined to join the fashists myself doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice Noemi's wants and wishes.

We went to see La Cage Aux Folles on Broadway and she was enamored by the shoes the guys wore. She pointed out their handbags and I could hear a touch of jealousy. They had attained enlightenment, they had reached fashion nirvana. That’s who I need helping me when it comes time buy her gifts.So now all I need to do is find some guy named Marla. Perhaps then my good intentions can yield good results.