Tuesday, March 20, 2012

She keeps Moet et Chandon...and lipitor...in her pretty cabinet...

click…click…click…she keeps Moet et Chandon…in her pretty cabinet…’Let them eat cake’ she says, just like Marie Antoinette

And so begins the song Killer Queen, my favorite song by Queen. Why? Because long, long ago in one of my previous incarnations, in a galaxy far, far away called NYC, it was the nickname given to me by my fabulous drag-queen friends. We’d just seen Queen at Madison Square Garden. And I was young…I was hot…I was a fox. All of the straight men wanted me and all of the gay men wanted to BE me. Really? I have no idea. But that’s the way I like to remember it…

I lived in a tiny apartment, in a scary neighborhood, with a succession of psycho roommates, knee-deep in sequined dresses and platform shoes. I had a lot of parties, and held court wearing a Japanese wedding kimono and a tiara. I served goldfish crackers and cheap wine to my guests…by candle-light…“because everyone always looks prettier by candle-light.” I didn’t have a pretty cabinet, but I did have a refrigerator painted hot pink. There was no Moet et Chandon in the fridge, and to be honest, if there’d been any cake in there, I probably would’ve been the one eating it.

I remember those years fondly, albeit I’m seeing them through the misty, watercolor, progressive lenses of middle age. I was so broke…and yet so glamorous. I worked all day in my dull, low-paying job, barely making enough money to pay the rent. But in the evening, I was the Killer Queen. I painted my face with glitter, slipped into silk and feathers and mile high shoes, and hit the dance floor. Sometimes literally hit the dance floor...I broke my foot twice.

At the end of the evening, we all got together to eat pastrami sandwiches, drink lots of coffee to quell the inevitable hangover, and watch the sunrise. And we thought it would last forever…

But disco died, we all grew up and got real jobs, and moved on. Still, every so often…like this morning when I was driving to CVS to pick up my lipitor…I turn on the car radio and hear…click…click…click…and I crank up the volume and sing along with Freddie...good times. :)


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