303 Magazine PRIDEFEST Issue Release & Fashion Show

You know that feeling you get when you hold a bunch of newborn kittens in your arms and someone feeds you ice cream while you get your feet rubbed?

That’s how I feel looking back on last night’s release party for 303Magazine’s Pridefest Special Edition.

To me, this event isn’t really about the fashion.

Granted, it is fucking amazing to see 8-10 male models in their skivvies covered in glitter– but that’s not why we all came out.

Well, that is certainly why some of came out (pun… intended…?).

But this event was just so full of love and happiness that it is truly impossible to leave it with a frown on your face.

The worst and most unfortunate bit of the evening was that Ryan and I didn’t bring the camera.

WE DIDN’T BRING THE CAMERA?!

OH

MY

GOD.

Update: I FOUND Pictures!!!

But folks, fret not for I am a painter of words and will show you, with combinations of letters and symbols, what I saw.

- A two- or three-foot diameter astroturf derby hat, complete with astroturf cape (daisy appliqués) and white patent go-go boots.

(S)he and I had an extended hand hold, like two lovers refusing to part. It was terribly sweet.

(told you so)

- A man at least seven feet tall.

(Nothing else special about him but boy was it crazy!)

- Smiles.

Everywhere.

- My new friend Mabel and her amazing 1/2 denim, 1/2 fabric mini skirt ca. 1992 and fabulous snakeskin pumps.

- MONDO!

Oh, how I swoon.

And he sat but two seats away.

- Some of the best damn drag queens you’ve ever seen.

(told you so)

Our emcee, Chris Parente:

(told you so)

- Smiles.

Everywhere.

(told you so)

It’s like… the last two fashion shows we went to– everyone acts like weirdos.

They are all super nervous, very concerned that they are under/over/wrongly/poorly dressed.

They are probably looking for dates.

They are just plain awkward, and sometimes too drunk.

But last night??!

Dancing! Touching! Hugging! Laughing! Giggling! Making eye contact (with strangers!)! MINGLING!

Nothing beats that.

Literally nothing.

So who gives a shit if you can (and probably did) get the same CK whitie tighties at TJMAXX.

I don’t.

I just want to have a blast and rub shoulders with the best of Denver.

And.

I did.

I may not be gay, but I couldn’t be more proud.

Bravo, Charlie.

Bravo.

{photo credit: Andrea Rael via Huffington Post}