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Heavy Flow

Pinkswear

After a flurried afternoon of fabric shopping, I retreated toward the Castro in desperate need of two things: my drafty apartment and a safety pin! It was a scorcher, I was nothing short of overjoyed that the evening I had been looking forward to for days was finally upon me. I stripped off the peach fishnet tank that had so dutifully served its days purpose, and fashioned a yard of slate blue chiffon in preparation for the night’s festivities. The Hercules and Love Affair Party had finally arrived, and my toga was devoid of flaw!

The party at the Mezzanine was dubbed as a Timo Maas show, but the homos in the know had other plans. While the breeders rolled in, a definitive rift was apparent. Interspersed in billowy cloths and headdresses the homos and queers had definitely gotten the memo…this was no Timo Maas show; it was the Hercules and Love Affair event we had been waiting for!

While the evening was filled with memorable looks, pricey drinks, and dance floor mayhem, the one thing that was not memorable to me was the music. It could be because my adorable toga was so breathtaking that people wouldn’t stop buying me drinks, or because the hot hot weather was distraction enough on its own. Sometimes, I presume, the music doesn’t matter nearly as much as the company and their quality. This night was particularly rich, with all sorts of artsy tastemakers parading about in Grecian garb. It was another night for the books, and for the first time in quite a while it REALLY felt like summer!

The following day, sunning in Dolores Park replete in summertime splendor, my friends and discussed the previous evening over champers and laughs. It was truly a remarkably high holy day in Dolores Park; the boys were sunning with tank-tops crumbled by the wayside. It was endearing, however, that the waistlines weren’t at their optimum summer slimness, and the tans were ecru at best. However, a little pudgy paleness wasn’t gonna stop the wine from flowing. It was decided that there was no good reason to leave the park, so sunny naps and slip and slide shenanigans led into a most uneventful if not extraordinary evening!

Around 3am, while still sitting high atop the ledge of the man-shelf, I couldn’t help but think about all the great summer days that are sure to come in just a little while. The hundreds of others still reveling in the heat of the early morning obviously had the same idea. As the weariness of the sun-soaked day started weighing down on the park patrons, and we all stumbled home toward our comforter-less beds, a feeling of true satisfaction and bliss overcame me. I crossed 17th on Sanchez and inhaled the sweet smell of jasmine in the air, closed my eyes, and smiled. This is why I love living in this city. The Emerald City, Oz, Babylon by the Bay; call it what you will. For me, and no matter where I go, San Francisco will always be home!