A few birthdays back there was a gathering at Starlight with around forty people, using my aging as an excuse to drink. A late arrival was my friend Tia, with an oversized box. The first thought in my head was how to carry this large box around with me the rest of the night. The second thought was wonderment as to the contents.
Tia knew how to create a scene. While most presents were opened with little fanfare, she made sure the assembled crowd, even those not in our party were witness to the opening. A simple purple ribbon over a white box opened to reveal a profuse amount of purple tissue. Conceding in my mind that this was a gag gift of tissue in a box, I peeled away the layers.
Inside was a black pinstriped Dolce and Gabbana suit. A quick inspection revealed that it was "real" and not D&G, not a knockoff. Now, mind you, Tia was a great friend. She had been there during my awkward "coming out" phase of my mid-twenties, getting me into every club and bar for free with ample drink tickets. She had also always been shrewd in giving me a "thumbs-up" or "thumbs-down" regarding any prey that was in my sights.
The suit, however, was a bit of a high price point even between such good friends. Granted, Tia made good money. In fact she made huge amounts of money, in cash. That money, gained by being one of the most exclusive transsexual prostitutes in Manhattan, was always geared toward medical procedures and not exuberant expenditures.
With this in mind, I had to find out what was up with the suit. With her French-Canadian accent she filled me in:
"Remember that client 'Cokie Wigster'? The one that pays $500 per hour while sitting in front of a mirror wearing a wig, jerking off, and doing lines while I brush the wig and tell him how pretty he is? Well, he added a new "element" to his fantasy the other day.
He reached into his closet and had me put on his suit while I was doing the gig. At the end of the session, he told me to keep the suit and wear it the next time. What he didn't know is that I didn't want to go there anymore. The doorman has been giving me "the look" and you know how much Wigsy freaks me out.
Now obviously the suit is way to big for me, but you are exactly his size. Voilá et Bonne Fete!"
One of the most expensive items in my wardrobe. Fits like perfectly and never required one alteration. Formerly owned by a guy in his Forties who lives in the Fifties and loves his wigs and cocaine.
It was the best present ever.
