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This evening, I am out and about in my suit. I’ve got an audition as a lawyer and then I’m going to the opera, plus the weather is ideal for wearing a jacket. I must look the part: two older gentlemen told me so in plain English. On the Red Line platform he even said I looked “Beverly Hills.” Downtown awaiting the DASH B Line, it was just, “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” These men were probably a little crazy and a little needy in a way that I couldn’t help them. Or maybe they just wanted to chat. I was terse in my replies, but at least I replied — which I normally do not do at all to street people — so I guess I took these comments as compliments.

Yesterday, I shared my apartment elevator one floor with a guy who complimented me on my clothes. Actually, what he said was, “Mmm, J. Crew, right?” As I looked down to see what I was wearing (no need to look down, but it’s an almost involuntary response, isn’t it?), I realized that I had on pants, tee, dress shirt and sweater vest from Banana Republic. Four from BR, but no J. Crew. I sized him up: well-dressed and chatting me up, probably gay. But not gay well-dressed, no gay mannerisms or stereotypes at all. Plus, what gay man doesn’t know the difference between J. Crew and Banana Republic? So, straight.