Ah, holidays. Whether for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Boxing Day, chances are, you're on the lookout for gifts for the butch in your life. Since many of us don't like conventional girly stuff, we can seem tough to shop for at first. But don't despair! Here are 10 great gift ideas. 1. Cool bracelet or necklace. Some butches don't like jewelry, but many of us do, especially if it's androgynous and versatile. Personally, I'm coveting this Rothko-inspired one by Retimade (pictured), which would look awesome with a button-up shirt and fresh haircut. I'm also partial to Audiyo's bracelets (made from recycled guitar parts). 2. Headlamp. Whether we're fixing the car, or just trying to find the cat in the backyard at night, headlamps are a delightfully dorky, hands-free flashlight. Totally functional. 3. High-quality shirt. You need to know her measurements first, but once you do, why not treat your butch to a really awesome shirt from somewhere like Brooks Brothers? Or even better, take her to a shop where she can get measured and pick out the fabric for a custom-made shirt! I've personally never had one of these pricey (~$200) numbers, but supposedly the fit is terrific, and especially great for women who usually have difficulty fitting men's shirts to their body. 4. Massage. Top or bottom tendencies aside, many butches appreciate a good rub-down. Choose a not-too-girly spa with tons of privacy, and buy your butch a gift certificate there. (Note: if you're not the butch's lover or a really close friend, choose something else or you'll look creepy!) 5. Something From Lucky Dog Leather. Virtually everything these guys make is super cool, and they have some great designs that are stylish without being showy and come in enough sizes to accommodate any butch, no matter how big-boned or tiny-wristed. One of my personal favorites is their ring belt ($82) in brown and antique brass. I'm really into some of their cuffs, too. 6. Tickets. These can be tickets to a concert, a play, a sporting event, a reading, a circus--anything your butch loves. It doesn't even have to be something the two of you would both enjoy. If you hate football or ballet or whatever she's into, give her two tickets and send her off with a buddy. We won't think you're trying to get us out of the house; we'll think you're observant and thoughtful. And trust us, we'll have more fun if we're with someone who also enjoys the event. 7. Music. And speaking of good music, audiophile butches who don't already own them might enjoy some of 2011's excellent offerings, which include Fleet Foxes' Helplessness Blues and Bon Iver's Bon Iver. 8. An Interesting Found Object. Since this isn't exactly a period of worldwide financial bliss, many of us are looking for ways to cut costs. And gift-giving can add up fast. Why not make a pact with your sweetie to give each other something cool that you found in the natural world? An abandoned bird's nest or unusual rock can make a memorable gift. 9. Glasses. After Bee Listy's excellent post on the matter, I've had Warby Parker on the brain. This socially responsible company donates a pair of glasses for every pair sold, and they even have a free home try-on program so that you can try out up to five different frames at a time. Their glasses are $95/pair, lenses included. As me and my bespectacled butch buddies know, this is a heck of a deal. Give a gift certificate and let her pick! 10. Pocket Knife. Admittedly, the toughest thing it's ever had to saw through is heavy-duty packing tape, but I nonetheless love my Gerber Paraframe Pocket Knife, which can be had for around $20-$25. It's lightweight, has a partly-serrated blade, and isn't so large that it feels unwieldy in my hand. I'm guessing it would be a great fit for many a butch. The one pictured here is a 3.5-in. blade like mine, but there's also a mini version--and I'm guessing, a larger one as well. There you have it, folks--10 gift ideas for the butch in your life. Stay tuned for my next post, in which I'll suggest at least 10 more! What are YOU planning to buy for the butches in your life? And butches, what are you hoping to find under the tree?
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Today, I'm taking a brief interlude from my coming out story to write a letter to a new object of my affections. Dear Wool Tie, I know we just met last week, but I want to tell you how I'm feeling about you. It was good being around each other all day today, wasn't it? I mean, your slightly-heavy-but-oh-so-soft fabric just feels right, especially for fall. Simultaneously intellectual and badass, just like my platonic conception of myself. See, we complete each other, Wool Tie. Deep down in your plaid, woolen little heart, you know it. People think we look good together, Wool Tie. They all said so. You could see it in their eyes, Wool Tie. They know that you and I are meant to be together. I might even have some of your friends over. Wouldn't that be fun, Wool Tie? You know you'd love it. The bottom line, Wool Tie, is this: I don't know how my wardrobe and I survived without you, and I hope we'll never have to again. Fondly, BW I'll admit it: personally, I'm tatt-less. I'm the kind of person who considers a bumper sticker too "permanent." What if I suddenly *don't* want to save whales or listen to NPR anymore? What if it turns out that "NPR" also stands for the National Project for Racism? What if people take it the wrong way? Silly, I know. And yet, my 30-year-old self wouldn't have been thrilled with whatever my 20-year-old self would have inked onto her body, which makes me wonder if my 40-year-old self will someday feel the same way about today's me. If I *had* to get a tattoo, I'd probably choose a cuff: a row of books like a library shelf, wrapping once around my upper arm. I'd have my all-time favorite books written in as the titles, leaving plenty blank for future favorites. (Yes, I am a dork. Surely, by now, that comes as no surprise.) In any case, I know that tattoos are often part of the lesbian fashion repertoire--and for good reason! At best, they can make your body into a sexy canvas. See exhibit A, sent in by a reader: I mean, yowza, right?? They can also just be super artistic. Here's another one someone sent in--one I thought was particularly cool: And of course, tattoos also have personal meaning for many of their wearers. Some of the tatts people sent in included people's names, special symbols, memorials, or spiritual/religious significance. For example, one reader has this ancient Christian symbol to ward off evil tattooed just southeast of her belly button (and yes, that placement is hot): So many dozens of butches sent in pictures of their tattoos that rather than choosing among them, I've made a slide show so you can see ALL of them. Enjoy! What a cool collection of pictures--thanks for the submissions!
Now, some questions for you:
Looking forward to reading your comments. Most of the girls where I grew up started wearing make-up in middle school. By the start of high school, I still wasn't on the bandwagon. I didn't understand why girls were expected to wear make-up, since boys didn't have to--and goodness knows there were dozens of boys at my high school whose goth-pale or acne-addled complexions would have been improved by a touch of foundation. But since no one expected them to paint over their faces' imperfections, I was inclined to exhibit my own just as freely.
Understanding that I was a pretty logical kid, my mom chalked up my aversion to makeup (as well as to carrying a purse) as old-fashioned, practical minimalism. As my overloaded tie rack now reveals, this was off the mark, but given the evidence available at the time, it was not an unreasonable hypothesis. Although my mom didn't want me to be Barbielicious or anything, she sometimes commented on my lack of interest in makeup--or, as she put it, in "putting on a little color." E.g. (pleadingly): "Don't you want to put on a little color?!?" Playing to my "minimalism," my mom would try to give me makeup survival tips. "Instead of carrying around separate blush, you can just put a dab of lipstick on each cheek and rub it in," she might advise conspiratorially. Or: "In a pinch, you can always use mascara to darken your eyebrows." I was highly doubtful that I would ever be in a "pinch" involving insufficiently dark eyebrows. But gamely, I gave both strategies a shot. I wore makeup on and off for several years. Putting it on always felt like putting on a costume, but I could look at myself in the mirror and see that I was pulling off a conventionally feminine look. I figured that this was how all women felt--that it was one of those burdens that she-creatures have to bear, like menstruation or writing thank-you notes. When I was married to my DXH, every time I applied what seemed to me a LOT of makeup, I'd ask him if he thought it was okay. DXH: Is what okay? BW: My makeup. Too much? DXH [looking at me; tilting head]: You're wearing makeup? BW: Obviously, YES. And possibly way too much of it. DXH [squinting]: I literally cannot tell that you're wearing any makeup. BW: I don't believe you. I look like a clown. DXH: Sweetie, what seems to you like a LOT of makeup is not exactly what the rest of the world considers a LOT of makeup. BW: Oh. Well, now I just feel stupid. DXH: Sorry. In that case, you look like a two-dollar whore. As a kid, I tried to humor my mom's suggestions to look more feminine, which often involved compromise on both our parts. Because I threw a huge fit at the prospect of putting on a skirt, my mom tried to persuade me that culottes (thanks to Bee Listy for the correct spelling) were JUST like shorts. "Then why can't I just wear SHORTS?" I'd ask, incredulous. (My mom and I are still very close, by the way--which is proof that, despite occasional frustrations on both sides, a butch dyke NPR-loving daughter and a conservative, Fox-News-loving parent can still find enough common ground to want to spend time together.) It wasn't that I objected to the style of the culottes (though I should have). Nor were they physically uncomfortable; they felt like well-ventilated shorts. But there was something I hated about other people seeing me in a skirt. It felt wrong, uncomfortable, humiliating. Some butches say that in childhood, they "felt like a boy," and didn't want people to see them in the "wrong" clothes. But I didn't feel like a boy; I felt like a girl who wanted to wear pants and a tie and have everyone think I looked dandy that way. From a very young age, I wanted sex and gender to get a divorce. (A brief aside: This is what I mean when I say that there's something "visceral" about masculinity. My DGF doesn't like me to use the word "masculinity." She says it's too tied to maleness, and that part of the fun of being a butch woman is turning maleness on its head by co-opting its trappings. But for me, "masculinity" refers to a style of dress and way of being that is not tied to biological sex--although for the rest of the world, there happens to be a very strong correlation. For me, maybe masculinity is more of an aesthetic?) Anyhow, the other day, for the first time in years, I slapped on a touch of makeup, just to see what it felt like. And you know what? A bit of lipstick and some eyeliner looked kind of kickass with my masculine glasses, haircut, and clothing. It was enough of a pain that I don't plan to do it again anytime soon. But it was pretty funny that after so many years of resisting makeup, it finally didn't feel "wrong." It makes perfect sense, though, doesn't it? Since I'm at a point where I feel free to dress as masculine as I want to, a tube of lipstick isn't a threat to my core being. It's just--well--a little color. You asked for it, you're getting it. More--yes, more--pictures of butches in suit vests, looking hot! Thanks to those of you who sent pictures. Feel free to send in more. Think of it as one big fashion collaboration among butches! Here we have a vest worn by JB. The vest is black, shirt is white, and the tie (though it's hard to see here) is maroon with a subtle plaid pattern. Nice. And the glasses are a dapper touch, too! Who's the dashing, purple-clad figure to the right, you ask? It's yours truly, in the same shirt-and-tie combo that I'm wearing here, but with a black suit vest (Stafford, bought new on eBay, $30 or so). I wore this ensemble to the wedding I mentioned in my previous post, and received several compliments. I received this picture with a note asking if I'd be willing to post a pic of a self-described "femme" in a suit vest. My answer: heck yes! (I never understood why people have librarian fantasies, but it's starting to make a little more sense now.) This is Joni McClain, a photographer with Love and Light Images whose work you can also see at this link. Next up is A, who had this waistcoat (that's what the Brits call vests, my fellow Yankees--classy, huh?) made for a wedding she attended. She writes that you can choose your fabric and send measurements to this site for a custom job. A also advises: "If you have a relatively large bust (as i do) then best to get the ladies fit." I've got to say, a custom-made vest sounds pretty good to me! Lastly but far from least-ly is one of your favorite celesbians and mine, the hot and hilarious Julie Goldman. (Julie didn't send this in herself--I snagged it from Grace the Spot.) Super cute, right? It's also a good example of how faux-messy hair can look awesome with a tidy, put-together outfit. There you have it, ladies and gents--five more ways that you can cut a dashing figure at work, at weddings, on the dance floor, or out on a date with this versatile and underused article of clothing.
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