I went to two different Halloween parties, two very different experiences but both very good.
All week I looked and looked for something that goes with this:
Someone suggested PVC pants but I’ve never worn PVC before. Others said black jeans would do. One person suggested I go without pants entirely.
I went for the usual: Leather pants and a black t-shirt. My homage to Steve Jobs and every hair band from the 80’s.
The first party was filled with warm friendly faces, big smiles, great costumes (other than my own) and good conversation. It’s one of those places where you know you’ll be around the kind of people you’d bring with you if you were going to colonize mars. Someone greeted me and I had no clue who it was at first since she was covered from head to toe in latex. I found myself in a circle of friends talking about everything from bad movie ideas to politics.
There was a moment where I had a brief out of body experience, realizing how very different things were for me now compared to when I first move to New York and didn’t know anyone. I felt lucky, grateful and warm. Thanksgiving came on Halloween.
Afterwards I headed to smack. Smack is a massive fetish party featuring people in latex, leather and anything else you can imagine. It’s important to note that it’s more fetish than bdsm. There’s some play going on but it’s mostly for show. There I was, a guy going to a fetish party with two of my best friends, one dressed as a sexy wild strawberry and the other as a seductive geisha. There are few things better than watching your friend dressed as a strawberry get her groove on while guys stare from across the room.
A few people were engaged in kinky play. Some were sincere, others were clearly putting on a show. I saw an older couple in the play area having a very hot scene. They were really into it. She wince and arched her back in a way you could tell she was barely aware that there were hundreds of people dancing around her. Downstairs I saw two women “playing”. If anything they were playing to the crowd rather than each other. The woman playing the part of submissive seemed more interested in seeing how the crowd reacted to her reactions. It felt like I was watching bad porn.
There were a few posers there, people acting like they were King Shit of Fuck Mountain. The people who act like they’re doing everyone a favor by letting us be in the same room with them. Its a funny thing to see.
I’m not sure if it was the music, the overcrowded club or the fact that I was also trying to get over being sick but I decided to head home. On my way out I ran into a friend who was sporting her brand new short PVC red dress. I tried not to stare, gave her a hug and tried to think of non-sexy things since hiding an erection while wearing leather pants is almost impossible. We talked for a bit but I left before her date returned with their drinks.
Jumping on the subway I felt less out of place than I normally do when dressed that way. I was sitting next to a drunk guy in a bunny suit and a coed in a catholic school girl uniform.
I made it home, took some nyquil and as I undressed I received a text message from the friend in the short red PVC dress:
“You are an idiot. You should have stayed…I’m a bit hornier than expected. It’s probably good that you left…in a way. If I were a man you would have been promptly raped. I would have lured you into a dark alley…”.