I would hopefully wear it to something like this:
No, I'm just kidding. I wouldn't wear it out...at least not to a dance party. Maybe the beach! That would be a Los Angeles Christmas I could get jazzed about! It puts me in a misty, fuzzy haze to gaze at Santa-suited mannequins all lined up sexy in their fluorescent-lit window displays...next to the bong store, with the Converse store on the other side, of course. I imagine myself a sexy candy cane lady Queen with Irmine firs and red velvet (rather than the highly flammable stuff displayed on Hollywood) draped in small, yet sexy quantities over my forever-warm-and-young-despite-the-forever-snow shimmering bod.... Mr. or Mrs. Claus? Who knows. When your nipples are this cozy, who cares?
What is it about this particular trend of sexy girl costume apparel that really glosses over my feminist theory and general irritation of mass-produced sexy silliness? Maybe it's the simplicity of the season...my Libra moon likes the limited choices. For the holidays, a girl could be a sexy Santa, a sexy Mrs. Claus (though no one could tell the difference), or perhaps a sexy elf, whereas during Halloween one could be anything from a sexy bee to a sexy lumberjack to a sexy leper or what have you these days. It's far too overwhelming, and that much more annoying in part because: Somehow, you really can turn almost ANYTHING into sexy girl wear. It's overwhelming for me when things get too slutty, not because I feel judgy about sluts, but because I get all wrapped up in the "be them or do them?" dilemma all over again. It can be highly confusing in general to be a femme sometimes. I feel like I would be that weird queer girl who wouldn't be invited to the pool party or slumber party in the eighties teen flick, but no one would know the wiser because: Hey! I get just as excited about nail polish and sparkles as they do with my obviously heterosexual wardrobe. Actually, I remember thinking in high school that to come out might jeopardize any slumber party status I might have, and this certainly slowed my process down. But I digress...
I am drinking in the sugary sweet holiday season this year in huge, enthusiastic gulps. Poni and I have our mouse-house laden in ridiculous holiday cheer, Glee Christmas music playing on repeat for too many days now. It's disgusting. I have been attempting to take care of a few key Christmas-y things before I head home for the holidays next week AND study for my final exams, also next week, and this is all getting much too exciting. I find the content of my classes extremely stimulating, and I feel the same way about Christmas this year. I imagine myself a Disney Christmas bird, shivering, screeching and singing for pure excitement. Somehow Christmas colored without intending to be so. Christmas in India last year was fun, but I was dreadfully homesick.
I don't feel homesick in Los Angeles. There is something seductive about the tough-love quality of this city. I do love a good tease, and I have fallen in love with the rock star once again, this time in city form. I feel challenged to forever seek its approval, though it will in turn forever choose its career over our relationship. Only the sexy aloof Leo-city Los Angeles could somehow turn my head from the dark intensity of the love I feel for Scorpio Seattle. I know Seattle will cradle me with its cold, pale, tattooed arms and remind me of my true Northwest alliance for a couple of weeks. It will remind me that fashion does not always include long, Brazilian-blown locks and draped jersey. It will remind me what good coffee is. All of the burlesque and drag queens will help to clarify why, in fact, do I want a sexy Santa costume?
I will report back on this later. Happy holidays, and remember to make the yuletide GAY!!!!!