We all get to experience peoples ignorance every now and again, we either brush their commets to one side or try and illuminate them. We may even have felt their prejudice towards our person, a deliberate attack upon us either directly or indirectly. Generally such people seek out what they consider to be a weakness that in all good consience they feel a need to point out to you. I was always specky-four-eyes, gingertop, slaphead and so forth but I always followed that old motto of sticks and stones my break my bones but lies and tales could never hurt me. In other words rise above their slander and leave them with their own diseased attitudes.
The funny thing is I have been called a lot of things in my time and never really worried about it because quite frankly in comparison to the ugliness of peoples prejudices I was getting off very lightly. Today, however, a got a glimmer of its potential sinister side.
Within my shop I have a jar in which I collect donations for a charity. The charity helps convalesing children from babies to teenagers. It depends 100% on volunteers - no organisers see a penny of the donations, all funds going to obtain the materials required to create blankets and quilts. The charity is run by volunteers who act as area managers who seek to obtain funds and other volunteers to make the quilts. I have been operating with one such co-ordinator to help them in this. I have a patchwork material and knitting yarn shop. A perfect place.
At the weekend the cordinator organised an exhibition of quilts etc to bring awareness to the public of the charity. Now I am open as to my fetish for rubber. To me it is nothing more than a passion for something in life that acts as a vehicle for self-expression and to bring a little magic into ones life. To me it behaves very much as a hobby does to other people. It is something we would very often very much like to have as a lifes pursuit 24/7 but due to lifes circumstances comes to be a weekday evening and weekend affair. I see no shame in hiding it. I don't rub it in peoples faces but I share my personal life with anyone if the topic of conversation seems appropriate. Of course such openness is open for abuse by the public and so it prooved at the exhibition.
The charity organiser was approached by all I can assume to be a couple of my customers and informed the organiser about the "things" I was into, that I and a member of my staff were doing certain questionable "things" on my website. What site this is I have no idea and I am just glad my member of staff has a decent sense of humour. They wanted the organiser to know that they did not think it was right for her and the charity to be associated with me, especially as it was a childrens charity, and just imagine what would happen if the president of the charity found out!
The organisers day job involves working with children so the fear of god was put into her by these two ignorant bullies. The implication of course is that I am a paedophile. And so the prejudice spreads. Now the organiser trapped in her thoughts that she could lose her job aswell as her reputation with the charity removes my support for the charity therefore demonstrating support for the two ladies claims. She didn't want to do that, she was in tears, but felt it was the safest thing to do. To create distance between herself and the accused. No one wants to be sullied after all. Part of me wants to say to her that it doesn't really matter, its a small and insignificant matter, but in this day and age when we are fed nothing but fear by the media, I can see her problem. And that sickens me.
Well, in truth, there is not much in any of this beyond a couple of stupid old biddies shooting their mouths off with their hypocritical morality as fuel. They will be back in the shop to buy wool and fabric soon no doubt from this monsterous pervert, thinking nothing about the hurt they have caused. Meanwhile the damage is done. Not just to me, to the business, to my staff, to the organiser, to the charity, but also to the children who needed the support I and my shop were assisting in.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Having a rubber fetish does not mean I want to dress in rubber all the time, there are contrasts to be had. Donning skin tight latex is delicious, wearing skin tight rubber is amazing, but the release from it back into nakedness is bliss, to scrunch ones toes in shag pile and luxuriate in soft cotton sheets. Then there is the practicality of it - my work is rather vigorous. But more than any of this I don't want to wear rubber while I am working in my shop.
One reason for this is public attitude. I am not scared of peoples judgements about me and I am not scared of loss of sales, rather I believe that the socially complex world of the communities we live in call for compromises by everyone, that for us all to be able to interact together we must through neccessity ensure we do not bar people from having access to us. Permitting access to oneanother allows us all to share our worlds, to understand our worlds, to change our worlds. It does not mean conformity, however, it does not mean uniformity. It means that within the context one finds oneself in dressing in a manner fitting. So in the context recently of the Alice in Fetishland party I attended a most unfitting kind of dress is everything most us would normally wear, come scruffy, casual, or smart in your street, business, party, clubbing etc gear and you will either raise a lot of annoyed attention or be ignored. The same is applied in reverse in normal day existence - don't expect positive reactions if you dress in your latex catsuit and hood.
Now I am not saying don't do this, being 24/7 in rubber for some people is a very crucial part of their identity and recognise that its expression is of paramount concern to them and what society thinks is societys problem, but they also recognise that society will either pick them out or/and austracise them and as such will limit the type of world they live in - they choose to create a much more paroquial existence.
Most of us enjoy a diversity of interactive experiences with the wide world but feel that in so doing we also lose a part of our private self, our inner self through compromising it to meet what is seemingly expected of us. For sure we can live a life in which the people we work for are fearful of individual expression and demand corporate expression at all times and here there is nothing we can do if we sign over our right to free expression in exchange for a wage. Someplaces are 100% inflexible. I am fortunate however to be my own boss. I understand and promote the need to be able to express ourselves freely, but I also understand the difference between private and social expression. So in the broad social context of my world I do not dress in rubber but this does not prevent me from expressing my social identity. To this end I seek out all I can find to say something about my individuality that will not deter people from wanting to interact, communicate with me.
For a man it is hard because not only are we bought up not to make decisions on our appearance but also because we have nothing to choose from anyway to give our appearance any meaning, any expression as to who we are. I sometimes think that many a transvestite is only a man seeking the resources to state something about themselves and finding no choice out there for their gender so end up looking at the vast diversity available to women. But with some hunting one can find things that lend themselves to your identity. One does not have to stick to just jeans and t-shirt nor a business suit, one can find alternatives. So what is this writing all about? To simply say how well chuffed I am at finding a pinstripe rubber cravat from Liquoricelatex! Not only can I wear it during the day to openly show the world my private connection to my rubber world but it also looks smart and the contrast of the material against cotton, velvet and so forth looks just amazing.
Monday, 22 March 2010
There are reasons for why I dress the way I do when I go out to somewhere like The Alice in Fetishland party at The Loft in Leeds, one is because it offers the opportunity to show off, another is because of the endurance.
Consider if you haven't tried wearing a material that squeezes the entire surface area of your body what it must feel like beneath, then over this wear more layers of it. As with an elastic band you can naturally feel its tension when stretched, so it is when wearing rubber, you stretch within it and instantly feel a need to conform back to the materials most at ease state. Then don some high heel boots, a corset, a hood and movement and senses become limited, debilitating. Apart from the various pressures on the body, the sensory distortions, the restricted capacity to move and breathe, the hinderance to talking, the fluctuations in body temperatures and the movements of surface liquids, lubes and sweats, the difficulty to use toilet facilities and to drink, it is also the thought of just how long can you endure this whilst out of your private comfort zone.
The thing about private comfort zones is that I love them, they are so nice and secure and reassuring, but I also hate them and must test them. I have always been a private soul, I love my own company, never get lonely, always have plenty to do so out in a social atmosphere I become a little lost, inadaquete. I don't know how best to approach people. I think are they like me and don't mind just being on their own but then I also think what is the point of being amongst people of like kind if you don't make contact. I come a little unstuck as to what to do, how to introduce myself. Of course finding it hard to hear and talk in a rubber hood doesn't help - one year I will learn! But then my communication has always been channelled visually. So yes I go to extremes in what I wear and this is my opening to the world, to advertise and sell something of myself that I can't do socially in words. It grabs peoples attention and I get recognised.
And it is wonderful to be recognised!
So I thank everyone who made me feel so welcome at The Loft, who came up and stroked me, admired me and warmly accepted me, particularly Felice.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Fresh for the fetish party came my new red luscious boots. With a goodly platform and sturdy high heel they are easy to stand around and walk in for the many hours I shall be there. Not that I am planning to be doing too much of that but one needs some good ankle support if one is to dance and a strong base in which to trot around town in. Should all else fail though and I find I am in need then The Loft has some gorgeous soft pvc seating! Can't wait for the squeek!
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Looking forward to this weekend for the SkinTwo Alice in Fetishland party in Leeds. A nice and small party for a nice and fun time. I just hope I will be able to hear people talk as the cyberlox rustle against the rubber hood, the slightest sway sounds like a mighty storm blowing through a forest.
I am walking through the streets of London in October. It is daytime and the shade is a little cool beside the high buildings blocking the sun but better here than in the direct heat of its rays. I feel the perspiration on my skin slightly chill and collect beneath the fabric of my costume and run in a rivulet of sweat trickling down my torso. I enjoy the sensation. I straighten my posture slightly to make myself a little more comfortable but also a little more in keeping with my appearance, it makes me a tad aloof and look just a little silly. I am careful where I place my feet on the ill maintained pavements, in these heels I could fall any moment and this would destroy the illusion of my act. I raise my left arm so it crooks at the elbow and arrange my fingers in such a way that each digit is given its own poised position.
Up ahead is Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the seat of power is spread before me with all the statues that represent my country’s history and its struggle for democracy, its struggle with its own people to establish a balance between state interference in the lives of individuals to culture a singular stable society that will be instrumental in providing the overall means of achieving the personal desires of the state in exchange for social welfare that in itself must accommodate the diversity of individual freedoms for self-expression as demanded by the subjects of this monarch realm. I practice this conviction that I am free under the law to do as I do without prejudice. I enjoy testing this conviction.
All around people are stopping and turning and looking at me. I am after all in my Sunday best so I expect to receive a little attention. Their faces smile, their faces are bemused, and their faces are excited. I can sense their heart rate beat a little faster as what they perceive to be coming towards them throws up a million and one questions. What are they seeing? Who are they seeing? Why do they appear as they do? Is it right or is it wrong? Will harm come to us? I smile and nod and bow and curtsey my way through the crowds to acknowledge I am no threat, that I am ephemeral and gentle to their lives. It is not my intention to cause distressing disruption to their safe worlds, to throw their mind into chaotic uncertainty that may initiate flight or fight reactions in everyone, but rather to open their eyes to my unusualness yet still be approachable so they may come to interact and familiarise themselves to my existence, my presence in their existence. I impose a little disorder in their lives but I hope to seem friendly enough so that when order is re-established in their minds then what I represent can be slotted in with re-evaluated appreciation through the experience. Those who choose to ignore me or who are blissfully happy in their own little world I have no intention of imposing myself upon, I note their number all the same however, but I am here especially for those who seek a little magic in their lives.
A collection of people approach me directly and I come to a halt. I have to listen closely as their voices are muffled through the material that covers my ears. What I hear is mainly background city din, squelching and sucking of moisture in my ears and my own breath. I watch their lips as they speak and make out wonderful compliments to my dress and requests for photos. I am not here to refuse this little pleasure, indeed this is the sole purpose for why I am here, so I nod and shape my words as best I can beneath the restrictions of the fabric that encase my face and pay attention to the timbre of my voice so that the only outward manifestation of who I am does not destroy the creation of my costumed personae.
It is not easy but after we all pose for a quick snap of the camera I try to answer that one person who asks me that wonderful question “why”. Why am I as I am? It is a question larger than they could realise and my answers are not always the same. Sometimes I will say it is for fun, other times I will say because I can, because I am allowed, and other times I will say because we all have a purpose in life to find inside us something amazing and to share this quality with the world, to show to others that we can do this, and to thank the world for the opportunity to reveal it. But I never answer fully why I do what I do, that I do it for the ‘flow’.
Suddenly a bus drives by and I catch a reflection of myself in its windows. For the briefest of moments I cannot breath and stand in awe at what I see. There is my dream; there is the ultimate desirable object in the whole wide world, and that object is me. I have become my fetish. Rubber adorns me from head to toe. My body is encased in a shear skin of black latex that nobody sees. This is my skin and to reveal it would be to show my nakedness. I am dressed in creamy white rubber trousers that flare at the bottom over my high heel and plat formed boots. I wear a pewter rubber blouse with poof shoulders and double breasted buttons down its front and the sleeves that end with shiny black tight gloves. Over the top of this I wear my black rubber discipline corset that squeezes in my waist to give me shapeliness and posture restraints that pull pack my shoulders and raise my prosthetic breasts. Straps at the bottom fasten under and around my crotch to refasten to the back of the corset. Then over the top of all this is a free flowing white cape style coat in the same creamy white rubber as the trousers. This cape fastens around the midriff of my torso and the neck with lacing. A glistening black latex hood covers my face. One eye that has a squint when I am not wearing my glasses is covered by a red and black skull and crossbones eye patch. The other eye and the lips, which are the only parts of my natural body to be seen, are enriched with luscious make-up. My round and beautifully domed head is crowned by a creamy white rubber hat. I am polished like some beautifully cared for mahogany table, the sun light glinting off my surface. I am dazzling. I am complete. I am refined. I am fashion. I am future. And I love myself. And this person stands above the crowds and hugs them all to its bosom.