Three tutorials deep and this saree is still winning. Bollyween at Red Eye is going to get the most committed version of me either way. Tell me the midriff is the point.
Three tutorials deep and this saree is still winning. Bollyween at Red Eye is going to get the most committed version of me either way. Tell me the midriff is the point.
My heels gave up before my legs did, so I'm finishing the night barefoot on my favorite corner. Tell me you'd be standing out here with me.
Showed up to Ruby Tuesdays at Playhouse so early the DJ is still running soundcheck, which means the whole floor is mine for a few songs. Wearing red on a night called Ruby felt less like a choice and more like destiny. Come take the floor with me before everyone else figures it out?
NewFest starts this week and my list of films is already longer than my legs. Ten days of queer cinema and I refuse to miss a single one. Tell me which screening you're sitting next to me at.
Coming Out Day rally at Stonewall and my button's freshly pinned, heart doing its usual complicated thing. My parents still can't say my name, but a street full of people who can makes up for a lot — tell me the moment you knew you were you.
I've got hours before my set at Pieces and I'm dealing with the anticipation my own way. Tell me you'd take the stage with me.
Size Queen Fridays at Hardware and I've got eleven minutes between sets to put myself back together. Tell me you'd be waiting outside the dressing room door.
Fitting room mission in the East Village because Dos Leches at Club Cumming is calling and nothing I own moves like reggaeton. This little red number might be the one. Tell me it's coming home with me.
Trap Thursdays at Stonewall and I got here early enough to claim the wall outside. The dress started slipping before the music did. You coming in, or watching from out here?
There's a commando dress code at HUSH in Hell's Kitchen and I've been honoring it since the shower. Want to help me pick the part that goes over it?