C.W.L. Darling’s birthday is fast approaching, Gentle Reader, and he always throws an exquisite party. One of my favorites was the year we turned 26; that was the year of the little black dress. To be fair, it’s always the year of the little black dress – they’re timeless – but that was the year that Darling chose that as his theme.
I was working in Bremerton, and a group of friends offered to give me a lift after I got off – we’d catch the ferry, cross the waves, and head up to the Hill. I was a little nervous about being in drag in a run-down navy town – and that changing in the damp bathroom at work would result in sub-par Face. As it turns out, it was a non-issue. Not a single sailor whistled at me, and through some miracle, I managed my makeup without having to resort to my signature hormonal raccoon look.
One ferry ride is much the same as any other, so I’ll spare you the details, but some of the girls and I were able to take a quick snap on the crossing.
A stranger even took a group shot, before we debarked the boat.
The party itself, of course, was a delight – Darling’s fêtes always are. Everyone was in a little black dress – even if it wasn’t strictly… flattering. No matter – it was a riot. His young man at the time was the only other smoker, and he was most gracious about helping me navigate the corridors and elevators to the charming courtyard garden. Darling, Ms. Capere, and I are seen here trying to seduce various gentlemen; some of us are better at it than others.
Darling and I have known each other for nearly all our lives, and have been in and out of frocks for most of that time. We might not spend as much time together these days, but he’ll always be one of my best friends. Love you, Darling.