And now for a spot of fashion
I was told that after six months, all lesbian couples walk alike. Before that year has elapsed, all lesbian couples will be wearing at least one matching item of apparel. Apparently it’s a law. Ha! Whoever made that law never saw my girlfriend and me together. There is no possibility of us ever walking alike. It’s a physical impossibility. Our respective heights and body shapes are compatible enough to make mutually gratifying sexual positions possible, but we’ll never develop a matching gait. As to owning matching clothes, our respective styles scream very different things, and mainly irreconcilable ones. She wears little woolly hats in various shades of navy blue and what I loosely and generically describe as baseball caps. I own an angora beret. She wears sweatshirts and flannel shirts and 50 cents t-shirts with the names of sports centres written on them. She wears trainers. She wears Yfronts and white socks. Her entire wardrobe could fit onto one of my shelves. Sometimes I stare at her and all I can say is ‘You look so.. American’. I suspect she thinks it’s a bad thing – but it’s not. She gets me to think how much my upbringing had taught me to overvalue clothes and appearance. My idea of casual dress is to wear something that doesn’t involve buttons. I feel scruffy when I wear trainers. I iron my jeans – although I gave up on the crease in the middle in the 90s. The only thing we have in common, strangely enough, is The Pink Bra. Different shade of pink, and, err, different size.