Saturday, May 31, 2003
Summer (The First Time)
I've always prided myself on being something of an individual, a Lone Stranger valiantly bucking the trends, warping the preconceived notion of what an urban gay man should be. So I'm not too sure what happened to me at approximately half-past-one this afternoon. But, as today looks like being the hottest day of the year so far, I'm going to blame it on too much sun.
For, on the last day of May 2003, my dears, in this, the fifth decade of my life, I have just gone and bought my very, very first Ben Sherman shirt. Admittedly, it’s a short-sleeved jobbie, decorated with pretty blue flowers, and is, I have to admit, one-hundred-per-cent, and irretrievably, nelly; but it is a Ben Sherman, the sine quae non of every self-respecting Old Compton Street Queen of a Certain Age.
While the Street breathes a collective sigh of relief because that Weird Fortysomething, in the funny clothes and the even funnier mind-set, seems finally to be reverting to stereotype, I see the sun is still shining. So I'm going out to play in the park.