"the" Mrs. Astor

Sunday, May 29, 2005


Another night at The Palace, which brings my thoughts back to deviants. I was brought up in a very conservative household; my grandmother, Sarah Jane Gallagher, was the imposing matriach and President of the Rhode Island chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. My childhood was one of dress shoes and dancing school, but the moment I found the escape hatch I jumped. My grandmother was appalled by some of the new friends I found in the seedy bars of Providence, where I went to school. They were exciting to me; they wore eyeliner and dyed their hair. Once I dyed mine a color named Violent Violet and nearly got sent to military school in Newport. I never was allowed to wear sneakers as a child, but when I did learn how to make my own decisions they were platform sneakers. My mother, ever the rebel, introduced me to the first gay person in my life, Richard Chamberlain; she coyly said afterwards to her young, fascinated son, "You know his hands are smooth as silk. And he likes men." Perhaps it was from that point on that I surrounded myself with deviants. I was always fascinated by souls who did not care about convention; I followed the likes of Mona the Providence drag queen who embraced my innocent being and took me once on a spree that entailed her taking an axe out of her pocke book and chopping up someone's car in the lot of a a gay bar. I eventually bought a huge apartment on Benefit Street in Providence and maintained a sort of Salon of the Sordid. I was always laughing, as was everyone else. When I moved to New York, it all took the form of something much more focused, but still so fun. That's another story. All in all, my favorite people are those who don't fit in; they have always seemed to be the most real and understandable. My sister, du Barry (Peter lBarry of the Barrys of Newport) has always remained aghast of my tastes, but I love her anyway. There is nothing more plausible to me than a boy in a dress who is comfortable in it. One of my first infatuations was with a boy (now a famous jewery designer) who spent his entire first year at the Rhode Island School of Design in historical drag. Ricky, with whom I am STILL good friends after all these years, eventually had to be moved to the girls' dorm, although it wasn't a historical girls' dorm. I would walk around The East Side with him dressed in a perfect reproduction of Queen Victoria's 16th birthday gown; the pictures I took are still astounding. Now I'm here in Miami still embracing the unusual. I love deviants; they are not deviant to me.

7 Comments:

At 3:27 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Deviant is as deviant does, or something like that, but anyway… My word that was a beautiful post! Alexis, you are such an outstanding human being. I too am always drawn to the unusual, it makes life so much more colorful, you know? Well of course you do. ::grin::

 
At 1:41 PM, Blogger Ed Grow said...

Mrs!

My love for all things Astor grows by the day. Where do you find such alluring and tragic loitering boys? Do tell.

 
At 6:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ed! aka Baby Daddy aka lover of all things that taste of wild berry skittles... I am drawn to you ALL like a bee is to honey.

The Mrs Astor aka Alexis aka My Glorious Tormentor is the light of my otherwise dreary existence.

 
At 6:45 PM, Blogger Alexis du Bois said...

Spare me, Ms. Bees. It is your glorious interpretations of everyday nonsense, spun into a tale of delight that--well--delights all of us which make me, each day, look forward to visiting you. Now, I don't mean "visiting you" in the classical sense in my night robes with candles flickering. But every day I get a tingle when I type in your address.

 
At 6:48 PM, Blogger Alexis du Bois said...

Ed, tragic, loitering boys have been the small pox of my existance. But, I have always loved them and helped guide them on to what they really started out to be. I've been fortunate in life and fortune is as fortune does, as Ms. Bees would say/

 
At 1:43 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Mrs Astor! Where'd the boy with the big pocket rocket go? Whaaa! You have to stop doing that to me!

 
At 9:01 PM, Blogger Alexis du Bois said...

I'm sucking on a big piece of cheese flown into me from The Netherlands ( a place I have always found that my spirit would wander to during my long demise). The English title is "Very Speical Old Gouda" which I suspect to be a euphenism for "I Don't know what to Really call It, but it's so Sharp". But, the special aspect of this cheese is that it so dry that you should put a piece in your mouth, drink a glass of port, and let the cheese absorb it before swallowing. My friend, Chris Inskeep, who goes back and forth, supplies it to me. It sustains me during the winter months.

Other things that sustain me are wonderful stories of the Senregeti Plains and new huslter bars in New York.

I am never dulled by the introduction to Miami Society of new drag queens; but, that is no secret.

 

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