What I Will Wear
- What I Will Wear
It’s fraught for all sorts of reasons.
Because when I came out it was not politically correct to be butch or femme—buying into the dominant paradigm of gender expectations and all that. Because I have been socialized as a woman even as I have railed against Maybelline and MAC, and all those ridiculous outfits that require you to sit with your thighs demurely pressed together. Because—and it pains me most to admit this one—I care what you think. I want you to like me and not judge me simply because I favor patterned ties in a double Windsor knot.
It’s easy to dress for everyday. There’s no issue with slim-fit, colored chinos—especially if they have a button fly. Burnt umber, cobalt, sage green, fire-truck red, and aubergine all hang in my closet. A hard finish so the pants wear well is preferable, but brushed twill is all right, too. Everyone is wearing these now. Even Costco sells Gloria Vanderbilt colored jeans for women. And if I wear mine rolled at the hem like a J. Crew male model or a Kennedy summering at Hyannis Port, you likely won’t even notice.
Special events are more, shall we say, challenging. Do I wear the black, summer-weight wool, pinstriped pants, custom-made for my five-foot-four frame? Blue or black twill pants, the de rigueur look of business casual? Plain front or pleated? I’m starting to cross that gender line—now you’re going to notice.
Crew neck T-shirts, I favor these. Long sleeve is, more often than not, better than short. Somehow it’s more formal and completes my favored high-brow/low-brow look of jeans, a T-shirt, and an expensive vest or blazer. Of course, I also like hip shirts cut from Italian cotton and made by Bugatchi Uomo, Duchamp, or Robert Graham. Something with subtle checks, reversed out cuffs and collars, and square buttons, something that when paired with [End Page 25] my perpetually flushed Irish cheeks and soft face gives me a gender-bending look. I’m afraid you’ll notice my transgression, but I also love to transgress. See, I told you it’s fraught.
But now the tie, bow and otherwise. Patterned more often than not. This is the big one. A tie is like a big fucking billboard that says, “Ask me about my gender identification!” Here’s the rationalization that I make each time I’m standing in the mirror, collar up, tying under, over, behind, and through: a patterned tie is ornamental, and loose at the neck, charming, with less chance of people thinking you’re just an angry dyke trying to make a point. And please don’t call me that unless you are. A dyke, I mean. Straight people—even liberal ones—don’t get to use that word.
The shoes. Ropers and cowboy boots can work. Frye boots if it’s a hipster event—same thing with biker-toe black oxfords. For meeting clients or dinners out, suede wingtips or saddle shoes with outrageously garish laces are stylish and whimsical. Wingtips made with shiny Cordovan leather dyed tobacco brown or midnight black are too much. Too much what, I’m not entirely sure. Too butch, yes. Too gender nonconforming when paired with the rest of my ensemble, sure. Too much of an in-your-face statement, maybe. Even though these shoes feel right on me, I don’t think I have the ego-strength to carry off wearing them.
Finally, the foundation. Boxers or briefs? Sports or push-up bra? Wouldn’t you like to know. [End Page 26]
Kate Carroll de Gutes holds an MFA from the Rainier Writing Workshop. Her work has been published in various journals, including Seattle Review, New Plains Journal, Crosscurrents, and Pank. Kate lives in Portland, Oregon, where occasionally you might see her wearing a tie and chatting up some tall femme.
