I went to The Peacock Room (1321 North Mills Avenue) because I got a tip that there was going to be a fashion show. There was a $5 cover at the door and for once I decided to splurge. I almost immediately bumped into George Wallace who seemed to know what was going on. He walked me over to a pool table covered with shiny and colorful underwear. Everything looked like it was made of satin but he went on to explain that this was a new material developed by Suzi Fox. He pointed out some men's running shorts and for a moment I was interested since I have been running in the mornings for the past few months. The running shorts were however so tight that they left nothing to the imagination. I didn't want to look like a zealous British tourist running through my neighborhood. There was a group of women dressed in this Liquid Vinyl Clothing and they were posing for a photo while sitting on the edge of the pool table. Of course I wanted to get a sketch of this group but they were clustered in the corner and I figured that after the photo was taken they would wander off. George told me there was going to be some staged readings on the back room stage so I decided to bide my time and wait.
Michael Pierre, a local comic, got up on the small sage and introduced each performer.
Rachel Kapitan got behind the mic dressed in a provocative skin tight outfit. She started to read a poem that got hotter and racier with each stanza. I suddenly realized this wasn't going to be the usual night of open mic poetry. She thrust her hips from side to side delicately stroking her belly as she read. The poem built to its climactic conclusion. I was glad I was sketching since it kept me a touch distracted.
Next on stage was Keri Sardone. She was dressed in a skin tight liquid blue dress and she read an account of a woman executive who got what she wanted from the young male stud in the office. Herow voice was silky and smooth - just like the clothing being modeled. According to Michael most of these accounts had been written that night at the bar with only a brief rehearsal prior to the reading on stage. He read a descriptive account and the whole time a woman dressed in a skin tight gold dress stood behind him. As he read about her exploits she clenched her fists and subtly spread her legs at just the right moments. It was a delicate use of implied erotica. As each woman read, videographer Myk Freitag, circled them recording every juicy moment.
I wasn't too shocked by the show, because when I lived in New York City I had a gay friend who wrote all the pornographic letters to Oui Magazine. He would write one letter from a man's perspective and then write the next letter from a woman's view. He had a real knack for writing the hot woman's letters. I had arrived expecting a typical fashion show but I got so much more!