So yesterday, as I was walking down Broadway, anticipating yet another afternoon-long shopping extravaganza in my hands-down all-time favorite communo-capitalist emporium, I saw a gaggle of gay men slip into Sephora, and it suddenly hit me: all that 60s/70s crap about women burning bras and not shaving their legs and throwing their makeup in the garbage, just so they could be “natural” and “unaffected” and (they thought) equal to men? Well, it backfired. Or flipped. Or got spun on its head. Nowadays, fuzzy-legged womyn have gone the way of the dodo, and their antitheses–metrosexuals–roam the streets with lipstick lesbian galpals, all of them tweezed, moisturized, and botoxed, eternally on the lookout for the Next Great Tanning Salon. Oscar Wilde would love it: we’ve said, “Fuck nature, we’ll take artifice any day of the week–provided we can squeeze it in between pilates class and spinning.”
I’m sure others have come to the same conclusion and noted it more cleverly, succintly, and humorously, but whatever.
Oh, and for those who missed it, last night’s concert was incredible. In fact, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it was infuckingcredible. I’m tempted to call it a defining moment for certain members of a certain generation of Young Queer Americans, but maybe that’s pushing it. Hell, just get the cd (produced by the formerly blogtastic and always extraordinary Julian Fleisher) and judge for your freaking self.
Update: Dan, Chris, and Andy have posted their thoughts on the K&H show, as well as a couple of pics. Given the vast number of blogosphere luminaries in attendance, there’ll undoubtedly be more as the week goes on.
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