|Jeans: Reitmans; Boots; Ecco; Clutch, sunglasses, and leather jacket: thrift; White gold earrings: Sears; Top: from Jean Queen; Belt: from Barefoot Contessa|
Recently, I put together this uncharacteristically tough outfit. Well, I thought it was tough anyway, with its plethora of black and leather, its biker jacket, the sunglasses, the cleavage...
Ah, the cleavage. One of the unequivocal pluses of gaining weight is that I have grown my very own, slightly impressive chests (as they were sometimes called in the past). I don't often show them off, but I did buy some push-up bras and this day was a day when I thought I'd take a walk on the wild side.
Something about the jacket and boots, the black, the sunglasses, and the cleavage put me in mind of the "bad girl" trope in pulp fiction from the late 50s and I thought I'd have some fun with it.
Named after the cheap, pulp paper it was printed on, pulp fiction was found in dime stores from about the mid-40s through the early 70s and was considered trash reading.
I first learned about pulp fiction when I was learning about the history of lesbian literature. Given the salacious nature of much of pulp fiction, it is not surprising that there was a subset of it devoted to lesbianism. Also not surprisingly, some of it was set in "all girl prisons," where it was assumed (or hoped?) that all sorts of steamy things happened in a world without men.
In the last few decades, people have developed a love of the artwork on the covers of this pulp fiction. The queer community in particular has great fun with the high camp of these over- the-top covers which promise, above all else, a great deal of sex and violence...
And cleavage. Lots and lots of cleavage.
|Beau's glasses: Geek Eyewear; Hat: Jaxon; Sweater: thrift|
My man and me, we was in love and in a pretty crazy mood. We was up for anything. But most of all, we was up for some fun!
That's when I spotted it: the smoothest ride you ever seen. A Jag, right there for the taking.
Beau wasn't so sure. He was already on parole for B and E and he didn't want to be sent up the river again so soon.
But I says, "Come on, baby! We won't get caught. It'll be fun! You know you want to."
I flashed him my pearly whites, pouted a little, and breathed real hard so my chests kind of stuck up and out like he likes. I'm no dummy, see.
It didn't take long till Beau decided he was in. Like putty in my hands, he was. I just have that effect on men, I guess.
And so it was ours. I couldn't believe it. That smooth ride: all ours.
What a joy ride we took, all over town, up and down the avenue. Like a couple of kings, we was, my Beau and I.
Till I got caught. Why did them coppers have to come along and spoil our fun? We weren't hurting no-one or anything.
Of course I didn't tell the cops nothing about Beau. I'm no rat fink. I'm no squealer.
Anyway, I got tossed in the clink. Beau said he'd wait for me. This was my first time in the clink, and, brother, it was no picnic, let me tell you!
All sorts of queer things happen in lock-up. Girls start thinking they're boys -- and acting like them too, if you know what I mean.
I tried sweet talking the guards, showing a little skin. "What's a girl got to do to get out of this joint?" I'd ask them, puffing up my chests like I can.
No dice, though they did sometimes slip me some extra gaspers or a little chow.
But it wasn't all bad. I met some pretty nice girls in there, if you know what I mean. I learned a few things in there, and that's no lie.
But, in my heart, I always stayed true to my Beau. How's that song go? "I'm always true to you darling in my fashion." That was me. I was true to Beau in my fashion.
|I know I'm really white but even I was stunned by the stark contrast between my skin and my black clothes. I thought it actually looked kind of cool. I did match these dogs though, which might not be a good thing.|
Of course, things wasn't quite the same as before. I was on parole see, and I had to mind my p's and q's.
But I didn't mind none. I could be a good girl if it meant never having to go back to the joint again. I could do that.
I mean, it wasn't going to be quite the wild fun time I'd before, but the clink had done things to me. I was older now, wiser.
Believe me or not, but I'm going straight see. I'm legit now. Maybe Beau and me will even settle down and start a family some day.
Hey, what are you laughing at? It could happen.
(I'm linking this up to The Thoughtful Dresser literary Thursday at My Closet Catalogue.)