does this make me look fat?
(April - don't read this post. I'm not joking.)Right. Today I was in a shop, doing my thing, minding my business, when I noticed a massive assortment of glass dildos on a shelf. You read that right. Glass dildos. Right. There are several problems with this. There is nothing wrong with dildos. Rubber, I can understand. Any other sort of plastic would be reasonable. Glass...okay. Maybe it imparts some sort of sensational feeling but... But the fact that these were glass really troubled me. Of all materials! I once had a friend whose gas permeable contact lens shattered in her eye, and that scared me enough. Glass dildos are something else entirely, and it creates quite a nightmarish scenario in my mind which I do not want to spell out here. Do those things come with safety precautions?! Hmmm. Thinking about this some more, perhaps those were not meant to be used in the (ahem) traditional sense. Maybe they were home decor items? Centrepieces for dining tables? You know - something that prompts a post-dinner discussion, drawing sighs of 'Oooh, how lovely!' and 'It's better than a flower arrangement!' Just a guess. Turned upside down, they could have even been test tubes, but unfortunately, Chemistry class isn't thaaaaat interesting. Glass dildos, though. Oooooargrghghgh.
Moving on. I then went into another little shop that sells cosmetics. I was happily blending an assortment of colours onto the back of my hand, right in front of the sales lady at the counter, when I heard a bunch of footsteps come up behind me and heard a voice (presumably a woman's) beside me.
'Excuse me. Do you have any eyelashes?' he/she asked the sales lady. (This is a cosmetics shop, remember.)
'Of course we do,' she replied, and pulled out a box of false eyelashes from underneath the counter.
It was at this point I looked up and realised that the he/she who was speaking, wasn't a woman as I'd first imagined. It was a man. Well, I think it was a man. He had arrived with two of his best mates, who were dressed in the same style. He was wearing a smart pinstripe suit (women wear these too), complete with a very Hugh Grant-esque pale pink shirt underneath, and pointy shoes. My pointy shoes. His hair was quite fashionable as well - sort of a grown-out shag (think Dido. No, not dildo, Dido) with impeccable highlights. Now as some of you may know, I have a tendency to stare when something intrigues me. He had the most stunning makeup I've ever seen! Flawless, unbelieveable skin, contoured cheek colour, beautiful multi-tonal shades of colour on his eyes. Shit. His makeup was better than mine!
Now listen. I'm extremely liberal about these things. I was totally obsessed with how he got makeup to look that perfect. Especially on himself. No denying that now - it was a man indeed.
He held a set of gold-tipped false eyelashes to his face and peered, squinting, into a mirror. Then he took a step back and faced his friends, still holding up that set of eyelashes.
'Would I look pretty with false eyelashes?' he asked them.
'Oooohhh yes, lovely, dear, lovely,' they cooed and trilled in unison.
There was an all-important moment of contemplative silence.
'But do they make me look like a tranny?!' he squealed.
'Oooohhh, a tranny, a tranny!' his mates giggled.
Then they giggled some more. And more. Until they couldn't stop and had to leave the shop.
Me, the sales lady, and the other customers, stared speechlessly, amused, as they pranced out of the shop, heels clacking away and perfectly highlighted hair swinging with each step.
And no, I do not frequent dodgy establishments, if that was your next question. But this is London. And anything, truly anything, goes. Even glass dildos.
L'Esthete @ 23:32
