Rick Rayfield as Grandma Nicholas debut 11/29/09 Café Noir Cabaret
Thanks for Giving” benefit for Bundy Center for the Arts
last
performance before moving to a new location
In my Human Development class at St Joseph in Fall, 2008, I made a wise crack about dressing
in drag for Halloween. Most of the women in the class signed a petition encouraging me to do this. Cute.
I thought the investment was worth more than a couple hours on Halloween. Ithought
I would develop the idea to use in our annual benefit Christmas cabaret at the local arts center. Last year I was a
homeless man, a Mexican mariachi, a Hawaiian ukulele player, an elf, and a drug peddler. A “drag”
costume would have at least two wearings. (It had a third at a Christmas mummers play on Dec 13th.)
I learned from my 23 year old daughter that doing a drag outfit
is expensive and time-consuming. Several gay friends suggested I settle for “camp drag” which allows facial hair
and other male characteristics, with no goal of female impersonation. They also informed me that drag queens do not
sing; they lip synch. My goal was to sing and be more entertaining than a camp drag queen.
I settled on the tentative idea of a Mrs Santa Claus character who would transform from little
old lady to hip old lady when Santa is gone. She would start in rocking chair with a red bathrobe, with her hair bunned
up in back, and a plate of cookies on her lap. She would lose the robe and loose her hair and break into a crazy song.
Alas the role of Santa’s wife was pre-empted by the director’s wife, so I redeveloped the concept into Santa’s
mother and went shopping.
I started with red reading glasses and a stretchy popcorn blouse and a red robe. The glasses were great because they took
the pressure of my eye make-up, and they fit the part. The blouse and robe had to be discarded both for the character and
time limitation at the cabaret. I was allowed a bit of humor, but most of the cabaret was G rated Christmas music, not our
wacky Forbidden Christmas show of odd-numbered years. I ditched the blouse when I realized that a plunging neckline
would be more entertaining. Shopping is hard. One for three on my first outing.
I went shopping for the rest of the outfit at a place that specializes in cross-dressers and Halloween costumes.
The saleslady quickly understood my plan, and brought items out from the back room that were perfect options for my consideration.
The red dance leotard with the ruffled hem gives me the chance/risk
of showing off a trim figure. It has a flouncy bottom, with room for lacy crinolines underneath, and with
the revealing neckline. It is spandex with a sew-in crotch to pull the upper body tight. The sequined poinsettia
jacket is to die for- several women have since asked to borrow it. Someone was looking at it while it was on the viewing
rack, but she backed off when she recognized me from my book shop and I told it was for me. Small world. Can’t hide.
When the saleslady offered me modest falsies, I realized that she
was right in tune. The idea is not to pretend to be a woman by having large breasts. It was more striking to be small-chested
with details, creating femininity through other cues and actions. She said if I wanted to enhance my chest it was easily
done with molded bras available inexpensively at women’s clothing departments.
With the dance leotard dress, I was immediately self-conscience of two major items, other than the falsies. I would
need to keep my tummy tucked in. In fact I shaved my modest belly hair just to be sure it did not show through, and
I was very aware of panty line. The dress was a tight tight fit. So everything showed. The second issue was my
Adam’s apple, not easily covered with a wig or make-up. A boa is the easy way out. . I went on-line looking for
chokers, preferably lace, to cover my neck bulge, and add a feminine touch. I found a Goth shop in Arkansas that sells
chokers of black lace with Rose cameos. I emailed the owner and she instantly agreed to make up a white lace choker
with a white and red rose cameo. She had two of them on eBay in two hours, and I bought them both- giving one to my
daughter for Christmas as a thank-you for helping me plan this.
I never
solved the shoe problem. For many cross-dressers, women’s shoes are sexy, and when created in men’s sizes they
can be disastrous. See the delightful movie Kinky Boots to learn more. I looked for shaggy white mukluks, and
red high heels. The former were expensive if right, and I could not find women’s size 12. Hot red high heels
could have worked but would have been dangerous. The women in the cabaret with me were in heels and they were skidding
and wobbling backstage. At the last minute, I settled for the Santa Claus boots that came with the Santa Claus
costume I wore to sing Christmas carols with Jesus in an earlier sketch in the cabaret. With tall boots, no need for
fishnet or lace stockings. Another year perhaps.
The sales lady at Old
Gold offered me three wigs, but the straight shiny white one was the clear choice for the character. Over the top, just barely
believable. My daughter has a platinum blonde wig for fun, so I had an idea that it would work well. If
I worked in the old lady, it could be coiled, braided or pinned up, and then shaken down when Grandma steps out. Maybe next
year.
White gloves in cotton are available at most drug stores for applying skin
ointments, $2.00. I found a wild bracelet at the hospital gift shop. I had professional make-up left over
from last summer’s opera chorus. I bought my first lipstick, and whitened my eyebrows a bit with some Halloween
make-up in my kit. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
The first time in the dress I walked out into a crowded store and looked at myself in a huge mirror. I sucked in my
gut immediately and wondered how so many women spend so much effort to look good every day. This moment continues to
haunt me. A salesmen and a couple female customers made positive remarks as I checked the look and spun the dress- it
flares out nicely. Either you do it or you don’t. You can’t be a shrinking violet in a red leotard dress.
Instant out.
A few years ago, working on my house, I shot a nail through my palm.
A student asked later if I thought about Jesus with the hole in may hand. My reply was that I did not feel like him,
but I mentioned his name loudly. I have known cross-dressers and transsexuals. But wearing the moccasins for a
mile and singing and dancing in them is different from window shopping and academic study. While I find women’s
clothing attractive, I did not find it arousing to wear it. The physical and social experience was intense though,
and I can see how some people are aroused. I certainly became more personally aware of what women do to look feminine
and attractive, not just in technique, but in the daily behavior necessary to be constantly on display. It’s like
being on stage all day every day. Unlike women who wish to be attractive in public, I had the cover of humor and stage to
soften my defects. It was an interesting balance between using clothing to create femininity- covering masculinity,
and revealing it. To what extent do we seek to be attractive by falsifying who we are as opposed to simply putting our
best features forward?
When I was young, I had a face and features that were
attractive to some gay men. I was eager to grow a mustache and beard and appear, in my own eyes at least, more masculine.
I now look back on that with double amusement. I would not mind looking younger and more attractive. And I am
no longer insecure about who finds me attractive or not. This experience was great for reviewing how I feel about how
I dress and my public image.
Finally, with my limited talent, budget constraints,
and short time, I view this as an exercise, not a finished polished product. It was a personal experience,
but also a stage piece. This of course protects me to a large degree from social criticism, although my four year old
was largely terrified of me in the white wig. That said, I really enjoyed entertaining the audiences who
saw and heard me. I relish the laughter on the soundtrack. I feel that the humor of cross-dressing, from Monty Python
right through every British and other comedy where it is employed, directly engages- even if not very intelligently- the first
great difference in our lives- male versus female.
A few years ago,
sitting with several thousand people in an amphitheatre for a lecture at Chautauqua, I asked myself how much of the
audience was men versus women. I do not recall the answer- I think it was roughly 60 percent female. What was
striking was the certainty with which I felt I could tell men from women from way across the audience, and from behind,
or with blocked views. We are really very good at telling boy from girl. Or perhaps we are very good at clothing,
and combing, and carrying ourselves to help other people know who we are. No single clue- hair length, neck, noses,
breasts, shoulders- seems critical, but rather we put a variety of subtle clues together to make this primordial judgment.
To play with that judgment by cross-dressing is not about sexual arousal, it is about our identity choices, and our identity
recognition.
Oh, and to jump from playing Santa Claus singing
carols with Jesus, and ten minutes later to be Santa’s mother was fun for me and for the audience. If we can laugh
at the things we hold precious, we can appreciate them better. Laugh at me, please. I learned a great deal from this
challenge from my students, a fringe benefit of being a teacher.
