Uncle Ned is really lucky that Pa is alergik to Jack Daniels and it makes him shoot funny.
On Saturday night, in honour of his newly purchased 1966 Airstream Caravan, a friend is having Trailer Trash party in his garden and I need something to wear. Thing is, this boy does parties good and proper: huge house and garden given over to them. Indeed; at the first party of his I attended, themed, ‘Bjorn to Porn’, in his then wreck of a house which the SAS had decked out for him, one of my best friends met her husband, who is the Host’s best friend. To that party, I went as Seventies Home Porn, sort of ‘The Ice Storm’ style: very low-key and discrete in a big-hair, seductive way, and rattling keys; but I played it much truer than any of the girls in their hired PVC nurses attire.
To the next one, ‘Porn Free’, I went as ‘Too Old for Teen Porn’. I wore tight, Teen-Girl, pink and silver top; short, grey, school style skirt; pink lacy tights; hair in bunches; black patent, porn shoes; fake blood stained bandages around my wrists; and stood sadly sucking on a lolly (when I wasn’t madly and happily dancing, of course). I was told-off by someone for not being in the spirit of it and being too sinister, to which I responded, ‘but porn is sinister. It takes them in fresh and pretty, chews them up and spits them out a few years down the line, needing a new anal sphincter.’
I have very mixed views on porn (which I’ve previously considered elaborating on in a post but never got around to). As a liberal, I think people should be free to do as they choose; but from what I’ve seen of it, much of industry within which it’s generated is quite vile (no, I’ve not seen much of it and those I’ve personally known who’ve worked in the industry have generally been perfectly bright and pleasant people; but I imagine they’ve been at the more empowered end of the market). However, I am very confused by the current ‘glossification’ of porn: pretending it’s something sweet and fluffy: middle-class, educated, women accepting the imagery without question, all in the name of Post-Ironic cool, and not wanting to be regarded as some kind of hairy-legged, seventies, throwback, prude by their lads-mag reading men. I have a similar regard for them as I have for those that happily consume meat, so long as it doesn’t look like an animal. I eat meat. I like to know where it’s come from and would hope to be prepared to be there at the time of its slaughter, or even slaughter it myself, if I could do it more humanely than the next person. I just feel there has to be an honesty to these things.
I remember years ago, I knew a man who produced a magazine that was primarily horror/ vampire porn. Apart from being amazed that such a genre should not only exist but actually sell really well, I was also surprised when I opened it that the images offended me far less than some of the fluffy, pink porn to which I’d very occasionally been exposed. They were strong, with women blowing each others’ brains out dressed in fetish gear; but they seemed more honest to me, and gave the impression that the participants had chosen to be there, not just complied. Pink, fluffy, compliance, with slashed wrists some years down the line. Eugh.
So, having been distracted by Porn (which is far more distracting to me as a concept than the actuality of it ever has been); now back to Saturday night: I need a good trailer trash outfit with minimum effort. The last trailer trash party I went to was years ago and I’ve long since lost the gold chains and flimsy piece of cheap leopard print nylon I turned into a Hoe’s halter-neck mini dress. I need inspiration; but the thing is I’m, kind of scared. I remember when I was looking for ideas for that party I Googled ‘trailer trash’ and one of the first links I clicked took me to a site that I foolishly and naively entered*. When it said, ‘Dirty, XXX’, back then I didn’t realise quite how eye hurting ‘Dirty XXX’ could be. I really don’t want to see women (or men) with things inserted in them that make true the term ‘fuck you up’, gross misogynistic imagery and animal abuse. So, if any one could come up with some suggestions for what I should wear to look truly trailer trash with least effort, please give me some clues. I own no gingham shirts or butt shorts, or even any jeans that I could cut up to make some; and though not fat, my belly currently isn’t in the kind of state that merits its exposure.
*Interestingly; this time Google seems to have thrown up no such sites, which made me realise how much rarer it is to accidentally end up in such fleshy, pink holes of the internet. I really am quite glad of that.