PHOTOS BY ED ZIPCO
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Girl Challenger #1: Liz
I now understand why people dress like nutcases and parade up and down the street. It’s fucking fun! When I went to get lunch, I was the wacky person on Bedford Avenue. People loved me. I got applause, I had my photo taken, people were smiling at me—simply by wearing hot-pink footie pajamas I was bringing joy into the hearts of strangers. Right after I got on the train, a stranger’s face lit up. “Ooh, you’re so cute,” she squealed. “I just want to squeeze you!” I told her to go ahead and squeeze me then, and she did. In a mere three stops she confessed to me that she’s a tango dancer who’s heavily into S&M and she thought I’d beat her up in a cute way. We exchanged numbers. I should’ve taken her home with me right then and shown her how my onesie unzips allllllll the way down to my ankle, but I was in a hurry. But now I know what to wear when I’m horny and want to pick up someone quick. |
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Girl Challenger #2: Jamie
As I walked up Union Avenue to the L train, the construction workers who usually shout gross things totally ignored me. I’d always believed catcalling was less about sex than closing a perceived power gap by asserting their ability to objectify you to your face, etc., etc. Maybe they do have standards after all.
En route to the store, I discussed the failing media with my recently laid-off friend. She stopped me midsentence with “I’m sorry, I’m trying to listen but I just can’t take you seriously looking like that.” Laugh it up, ho. Neither of us is ever getting a real job again.
Later, I went to retrieve my favorite bra from a one-night stand’s apartment. “What are you wearing that for?” he asked. Self-esteem flagging, I wanted to ask him if he still desired me sexually in what I had on, but didn’t for fear of attempted follow-through (or, conversely, of depressing answer).
Reported for a DJ gig at a nearby bar. The waitress tells me that the manager judges on appearance, and I should change. No dice. Grew increasingly hot, sweaty, drunk. Hardly anyone tried to hit on me. I could get used to the lack of sexual harassment. |
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Boy Challenger #1: Phil
This was probably the worst day of all. Rocco was really into the texture combination, he kept saying some weird shit about the velvet and the felt blending together, which was worrisome. Anyway, I had a class that day where we go around to different galleries in Chelsea. Again, I got some stares and mini sideways glances, but no one outright said anything, until a girl in my class looked at me a little horrified and pointed at her chest anxiously. At first I thought she was asking for the Heimlich or something. When I finally realized she was trying to communicate that I was the one with the problem, I looked down, and there was a nice bright-pink rash blossoming right in the middle of my chest. I ran home and ripped the piece-of-shit velvet off and slathered on the Benadryl cream. I didn’t leave the house for the rest of the day. Fuck dirty old-lady clothes. |
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Boy Challenger #2: Rocco
This outfit was more Jazzy-Jeff-inspired, and the shirt was real Tommy Hilfiger too! I always get loopy at work on Fridays, and this was no exception. I caught myself slipping into the Jazzy character when I was strutting down the hall a couple of times. The pants brought out more of my grandma side. I imagined that these belonged to someone’s grandma, that she wore them right when she got out of the hospital and was feeling all cozied up. I was really feeling it when I had to change into my slippers at work because my shoes were all slushy and wet. Yes, I have work slippers. So, I was sitting there in my grandma pants and my slippers, all cuddly with my hot coffee mug, when my boss walked by and gave me a nice long evil eye. Whoops.
Another thing about the big shirts: Every time I was walking down a windy street, those shits caught like a sail and forced me back. This one in particular. I was walking down Broadway or another one of those streets that’s like a wind tunnel, and I had to really exert some force to move forward. I probably looked like an asshole too. |
CONTINUED
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