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Gabriella smoothed back her hair and checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. The high-strength, high-shine pomade kept her unruly locks in place. It was a familiar fight—keeping her curls under control—but it was also new. For one, her hair had never been above her ears before. She had foolishly thought that shorter hair would be earlier than long hair to maintain. It wasn't any easier or more difficult, but rather different.
"So, what do you think?" Seojung raised an eyebrow from his seat at his dining table. The young reporter had kindly opened up his home at the last minute. They'd been talking about it for a couple weeks now, and Gabriella had an open day for once. She'd sent a text early in the morning, expecting no response. Instead, the immediate reply was, "Sure!"
The two women had become fast friends (not as fast as Madison, of course) after Seojung's interview for his magazine in March. Gabriella had asked him for his number after their conversation came to a close, citing some personal questions. He'd handed her a business card with a knowing nod. Like Madison, he had grown up in the United States, and knew a lot about American queer history. He admitted he didn't know much about other parts of the world, but he was trying to learn about the Korean queer scene.
His comments about masculinity as a queer woman and butch lesbianism from the twentieth century had burrowed into her brain, poking at her neck. She was inspired to look up forums and articles, watch documentaries and video essays, and find archives of old queer magazines. Seojung had recommend the Butch is not a Dirty Word issues in particular. She was surprised by how much she read resonated with her deepest feelings.
Gabriella's relationship to masculinity and femininity had always been fraught with conflict and tension. She still shivered at the memory of her mother forcing her into a church dress for Sunday Mass. Some of the outfits she wore at the Worlds kept her up at night. The rules for Ice Dance were just as conservative as her mother, so she had stuffed her body into tight dresses and form-fitting one-pieces for years. Guillaume never noticed or cared about her discomfort. Madison heard about some of it. But mostly, she had kept this roiling pot of emotions clamped under a tight lid, never to be released.
Now that she was officially retired and moving on to other things, she was letting off steam, as it were. She wasn't getting any younger, and she wanted to try everything at least once. Today, she was visiting Seojung to try his wardrobe and styling products, and get some tips on dressing like a man.
No, dressing masculine. She was still working on divorcing masculinity from manhood. She was also wrestling with the concept of androgyny and neutrality. Her native tongue forced everything—people, objects, ideas—into a box. Masculine or feminine. No in-between. No grey area.
Seojung thrived upon living in the grey. Gabriella was hoping she could do the same. A couple weeks ago, he had mused about the definition and expectations of "woman". "I think my gender journey… it's all about expanding the definition of what a 'woman' is. Women come in all shapes and sizes, and presentations and persuasions."
She sat at the table across from the other woman and tried not to mess with her hair. "Not sure right now… it's different."
Seojung pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger and stood. "For what it's worth, I think it really suits you." Without missing a beat, he continued into his next thought. "Speaking of suits—what's Madison's favorite color?"
"Blue. Why?" She was suspicious. What the hell did he have up his sleeve?
"You have a dinner reservation at Domenico's. Six sharp. I'll be right back; gotta pick out a suit for ya. Wait here."
"Seojung, what?" Gabriella's jaw dropped in shock. He was a devious mastermind! When had he even arranged this? He'd been with her all afternoon.
Seojung returned to the living room with a black garment bag. "Take a gander."
Her heart in her throat, Gabriella unzipped the bag to reveal stripes. Narrow pinstripes, to be specific. She pulled the suit off the hanger and held it up for closer examination. Three pieces—trousers, jacket, waistcoat—crafted from matching fabric all sported vertical thin stripes. The fabric felt like linen, smooth and scratchy at the same time. A classic white dress shirt was layered underneath it all.
"Go try it on," said Seojung as he waved to the privacy screen in the corner of the room.
Gabriella didn't need to be told twice. She jumped into the trousers, tucked her shirt meticulously, and shrugged the jacket on. One of the inside pockets had a rolled necktie… she'd figure that out later. When she emerged from the portable changing room, she made a beeline for the mirror. The color worked really well on her skin, actually. She liked the way this suit hung on her frame. It was boxy and straight lines, instead of curves. With the jacket closed at the middle like Seojung had suggested ("Never fasten the button button, or you're blocked."), she looked put-together and strong.
"Looking good, Papadakis." Seojung came up next to her and gave her a solid shoulder pat. "I made a good choice, right?"
Gabriella felt a grin tear across her face as she pulled the necktie out of her jacket pocket. "Can you teach me how to tie this?"
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Gabriella checked her phone one last time. She sat in the parking lot of Domenico's, fully-dressed in all of Seojung's recommendations. Her anxiety was starting to spike again. Bless him, the reporter had provided all the necessary information in one long text message.
SL: remember, reservation's set under your last name, yeah? all righty, enjoy your night.
She stowed her phone and made her way to the hosting desk. "Good evening. Table for two under Papadakis, please."
The young man smiled and rounded the desk. "Welcome to Domenico's. Right this way." He led her to a table in the back of the restaurant, shielded from the general public. One woman sat with her back to Gabriella, but she knew those shoulders anywhere.
"Thank you. I can make it from here." Gabriella gestured to the table. "I recognize my dinner companion."
The waiter gave a head-bow and returned to his post.
"Sorry I'm late," Gabriella said as she slid into her usual seat.
Madison looked up from the menu with an easy grin. "Don't worry about—oh, wow, Gabi. Damn, Seojung wasn't kidding." She reached up and poked at Gabriella's new hair. The hand drifted down to the collar of her dress shirt and brushed the skinny necktie. Her eyes skipped all around the outfit.
"What did Seojung tell you??"
"He mentioned something about a makeover and a dinner on his dime. He was not asking, but rather telling me what my plans for tonight would be." Madison sipped her drink to hide her amused grin. "He's in the right field. Very persuasive writer."
Okay, so never underestimate the power of one lesbian with ADHD, Gabriella noted to herself. She tugged on the lapel of her suit. "What do you think?"
"I think you look damn good." Madison pulled her hand back. "But I think how you feel and what you think is more important."
"I mean, yes. But I also appreciate your opinion. You know me almost as well as I do."
Madison leaned over and pressed her lips to Gabriella's cheek. "I like it. You look handsome."
Before that moment, Gabriella had no idea how much she had wanted to hear her best friend call her handsome. "I have to look my best. My dinner date always looks gorgeous."
Sure, she had been a bit apprehensive before she walked into this restaurant, but as she basked in the warmth of Madison's laugh, she made a mental note to buy the reporter a drink.
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