California REALITY CHECK – Day 4 – A West Hollywood Extreme Makeover

Turning swiftly, Sean began the promenade up Santa Monica, where he promptly received a call from one of his fellow actors, who was suffering from a sore throat. He assured her that all would be well by evening, to rest her voice and have some jasmine tea. We crossed the lanes of traffic with other pedestrians while cars obligatorily stopped to honor the California right-of-way laws. A moment later, we were window shopping at Out Of The Closet, a hip hand me down thrift shop ten thousand times more couture than any Salvation Army I’d ever seen. Inside, chippy boys in tight clothes with twink-like physiques were bickering over matters such as, “does this ass make my jeans look to small?” or “how daring of you to wear canary yellow with your coloring.” Sean very quickly, in homage to Jen Urbano, pushed my shoulder to guide me then tugged my elbow to the right as we made our way to the belt racks. That’s right. Racks.
I’m fairly full-figured at the hips, but my waist is more slender. Sean immediately pulled a few options, all of which were just not happenin’ for me. He was more fortunate, finding a fun little ditty with Aztec-like metal design plates all around, which of course, fit his 38-still-looks-28-year-old body. He even fastened it over his current belt which beholds the New York City skyline…I grimaced in despair of ever having a waistline ever again.
We abandoned the belt rack for the shoe department, and while there were a few viable options, none of them really felt quite right. Sean emphasized trying BOTH shoes on always, and walking about in them first…okay, lesson one learned. Thank goodness I’d put on fresh socks. Still, nothing piqued my interest to the point where I was ready to abandon my Buster Browns. I treated him to the Aztec belt, a small price for his overnight hospitality, and we headed back out to the Boulevard.
Passing “Circus of Books,” another adult bookstore, but clearly gay male oriented, I wondered what kind of circus really went on inside. Sean regaled some stories of “gays gone by” and how West Hollywood has changed due to a surge in families, including gay families. Gay parents with strollers and young ‘uns are fairly prevalent there now, and the overall dynamic has changed. No matter, he said, as the club scene is still very much intact and the fashion district is indestructible. Case in point, our next stop: Crossroads Trading (now with 17 locations across the country to serve you).
Sean shops here often, as it is a Mecca of designer textiles and footwear without the price tag that causes coronary occlusions. He made a beeline for the shoes area, and I was once again confronted with enough options to make my head spin. All he said to me, with quiet reassurance was, “Don’t be intimidated. Look and listen. One will cry out and you will hear it. And when you try it on, you will respond, ‘Yes.’“ I trusted this advice…lesson number two.
Not much later, just after a few maybes, I was walking out the door sporting a pair of Adam Derrick’s To Boot New York Italian leather ankle boots - chestnut. Retail: $399. Crossroads: $27. Sean couldn’t have been more pleased. They were Italian; imported, well made…they showed the existence of God. I was now walking a little taller down the Boulevard. Cue strut music, please.
We strolled along the south side, past multiple clubs cleaned up from the previous night’s festivities and awaiting to re-open later in the evening for another round of decadence. This scene was never really one in which Sean would partake, but he did tell some humorous tales of when he used to work for a service called “Home James” which provided rides home to the intoxicated; a noble pursuit I wouldn’t have expected to exist in West Hollywood. One time, he took a pair of heterosexual couples home who were on a double date, and when he was trying to get directions from one of the women, she flaked for a moment on which way to go, and turned to her boyfriend, who was making out with her girlfriend’s boyfriend, and said to Sean, “Hold on, I’ll tell you where to go in a minute. *sigh* I hate when he does this.” Sean just smirked into the rear view mirror.
We stopped in a bookstore that caught my eye with a nostalgic window display of Wonder Woman collectibles. Upon entering, we were greeted with a tasteful nude calendar of European athletes and as we flipped through, Sean and I had a series of Madeleine Kahn moments as we both murmured, “yes,”… “yes,”… “yes,”… “no,”… “oh my god, yes,”… “yes,” and so on. Also inside, gifts and cards gave way to adult videos and magazines; the cover of one book in particular was like a train wreck neither of us could stop looking at: The Book Of Big Penises. After opening it to the first page however, I cringed at the sights inside. I opted for the more artistic photo compilation coffee table book, “Broadway Bares.” Much more my speed. Was it not $70, I might have purchased it. We meandered to a clearance bin of G-Storm Undies, on sale for $1.00…here I succeeded in scoring a pair of sea foam briefs – in just my size. Sean clawed through the remaining display, searching for a pair of smalls, to no avail. I jokingly shrugged at his loss. The student was teaching the teacher – for the moment anyway.