What’s up, box-handlers?
Ahhh it’s finally Fall.
I’ve been waiting for this.
Girls in tweedy blazers. Gusting winds.
Being naked under down comforters.
Suddenly needing socks.
At last, at last.
The surly neighborhood 14-year-old boys who hang out in front of the produce store on their BMX bikes all summer long and say things like, “Hey. Hey, I’m asking you out on a date. You wanna go on a date with me, mami? Hey, you just a bitch? That it?” when you walk by are safely locked back up in school for another year.
Ha ha ha ha.
Fall! My favorite season!
Burning leaves and scratchy wool sweaters!
Pumpkin pie filling straight out of the can!
Best of all, Fall means…young Timothy Maxwell Thumperton finally. stops. shedding.
Thank you sweet christ.
We almost didn’t make it.
Fall also means lots of trips, and I just got back from a few days in San Francisco.
While I was there, Shay and I went to the Lexington, a dyke bar in the Mission.
It was, like it often is on a good night, packed with queers.
About a hundred girls, boys, and bois were in that tiny little space, checking each other out, shouting over the music, and pounding the $1 margarita specials just as fast as they could swallow.
There was some serious variety in the room.
I snapped a few pictures, trying to capture the trans kids, the red-lipsticked femmes, the natty bois, the dirty punk girls, and the fixie bike dykes in the dim red light.
Bah. Too dark.
Couldn’t get a decent shot.
I abandoned my photographic endeavors to stare dreamily at one of the bartenders, who was rocking a 50’s greaser look, all slicked back, short dark hair, tight jeans rolled up to show white socks and black loafers, and a white t-shirt with cigarettes actually rolled into the sleeve-cuffs.
She was pulling it off, too.
As I gazed at her, and the sea of mos gathered around her jostling for drinks, I thought about how great it was that we were all here together, all of us so totally different, but unified by a single factor – we were all queer.
Or…was that the only factor?
I backed up from my rosy-eyed view and took a more superficial look.
There was something else we all had in common.
Y’allfags, every gayelle in that bar was wearing a zip-up hoodie.
Slouchy cotton hooded sweatshirts.
Every. single. mo. there.
I turned to Shay.
Me: (shouting over the music) SHAY! OMG! LOOK WHAT EVERYONE’S WEARING!
Shay: (bellowing) WHAT?
Me: WE’RE ALL WEARING THE SAME THING! EVEN THE BOUNCER! EVEN THE BARBACK! I CAN’T BELIEVE I NEVER NOTICED!
Me: (screaming now) THE HOODIES! LOOK AT ALL THE HOODIES!
Shay: YEAH, I DON’T KNOW IF SHE HAS THAT PIERCED OR NOT!
As it so often happens in bars, Shay and I were having two completely different conversations.
We left the bar, and I left with zip-up hoodies on the brain.
Suddenly, I was seeing them everywhere.
How did I not see this before?
Lesbians LOVE hoodies!
Everywhere I went, for the rest of the trip, I saw gay-looking girls in hoodies, and straight-looking girls in light jackets.
I wrote it off.
It was San Francisco. You need hoodies there – the average annual temperature is 57 degrees and clammy (heh).
Not cold enough for an outright jacket.
Not warm enough for just a t-shirt.
But when I got back to Chicago, it was like my eyes had been opened.
I couldn’t stop noticing!
Queer-looking women were rocking hoodies.
Not nearly as much.
Let me clarify:
A hoodie, to me, is any soft, cozy outer layer worn as an ultra-casual jacket.
It could be a track zip-up.
It might or might not actually have a hood.
But wow – I should have seen this.
I should have noticed earlier.
I mean, all the signs were there.
I live with a hoodie collector.
Just this morning, I was watching her get ready, and I realized she was wearing a track jacket over a hooded sweatshirt.
Everywhere I turned!
So…what’s the deal with hoodies?
I mean, I get it.
Hoodies are soft and cozy.
All people, all over the world, of every sexual orientation under the sun, love hoodies.
Straight girls, gay girls, gay boys, everybody.
But think about your gaymo friends!
I have a few I can’t even picture without a hoodie.
Now, I know.
I know what you’re thinking.
A fucking hoodie?
Everyone has a hoodie.
Your dog has a hoodie.
What, is your dog a lesbian, now, too?
Don’t be like that.
Just think about it.
Everyone loves hoodies, but…lesbians really love hoodies.
With an unnatural, unholy love.
Lesbians love zip-up hoodies so much that some of them wear little else.
Lesbians love them so much that lots of ’em have different levels of hoodies – house hoodies, club hoodies, work hoodies, hoodies for every possible two-degree variance in temperature.
Hoodies are warm. Hoodies are slightly baggy.
Hoodies are easy-access.
Hoodies are protective – you can flip up the hood if someone’s staring at you, thoughtfully shielding their eyes from the white-hot light of your hotness.
Zippy hoodies have nice, deep pockets where we can put our keys and wallets and cell phones without having to wear a purse.
And…what’s a girl with no purse?
How ’bout…an easy gaydar tipoff?
We gayelles are a casual people.
We don’t, as a group, tend towards fussiness.
We’re practical, and we like our comfort.
Which would explain the continuing popularity amongst dykes with this particular fucking shoe:
Stereotypically, lesbians don’t like dressing up, unless we’re the natty or dressy type.
Claiming the vast category of “zip-up hoodies” as queer-ish seemed a biiiiiiiit much.
Sluts, I’m not saying “wearing a hoodie is gay.”
Not every girl you see wearing one is a lezzer.
Of course not.
I’m not saying that not wearing one means you’re straight.
I’m merely saying that I see a lot of lesbians, and the ones I see are cuddled in snuggly, zippy comfort all the damn time.
Excessive hoodie love was activating my gaydar.
Was it just me, though?
Fortunately, the scientific mind cannot be satisfied with mere hypothesis.
We have to have proof.
More evidence than just the thousands of pictures y’all have sent me, not even realizing you’re wearing zip-up hoodies in all of them.
It was time for a highly scientifical quiz.
Made up and sent to ten gay girls and ten straight girls (for control), all chosen at random from my Facebook, without any explanation of why these questions were being asked.
Soon we would know the truth.
THE HOODIE QUIZ:
1) It’s Autumn now. If you had both a light jacket and a light hoodie/zip-up track jacket hanging next to each other by the door, which one would you grab if you were running out to get coffee?
2) Do you own more than four hoodies/track zippies of any type?
3) If yes…do you need all of them? Interpret this in any way.
4) If you have more than a few hoodies, would you consider any one of them a “dressier” hoodie, suitable for going out?
5) True or False: I have, at least once, deliberately chosen to wear a hoodie for the day, knowing that it was too cold for just a hoodie, to avoid wearing a jacket.
The answers came pouring in.
Almost everyone answered within a few hours!
I love bored people with office jobs.
Sluts, all signs pointed to lesbians liking hoodies more than straight girls.
I won’t bore you with the numbers, but:
Overwhelmingly, the queer girls owned more hoodies, wore more hoodies out, and refused to wear regular jackets specifically so they could wear their hoodie instead, even when it was way too cold.
Also, interestingly: of the six straight girls who filled out the quiz, four of them wanted to know what the hoodie quiz had to do with anything.
Of the eight gay girls who responded to the quiz, only one had a single question, and her question was, “Are you giving away hoodies?”
Do you see?
The queer chicks knew the intrinsic importance of hoodies without having to ask!
We can’t claim the hoodie as the sole property of queermosexuals, of course.
But we can use our eyes to see trends.
Cultural patterns among our people.
As we know, certain items of clothing and certain accessories can tip gaydar in a girl’s favor.
If we already think a crush might be queer, let’s add “a suspicious obsession with hoodies” to our already-extensive gaydar list.
Science for the win!
How’d you do on the Hoodie Quiz?
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Krista Burton is brand-new to Chicago. An ex-Mormon from Minneapolis, she writes a blog called Effing Dykes (www.effingdykes.blogspot.com), which is about activating your lesbian gaydar. She spends most of her time staring longingly at enormous dogs, riding her shiny orange scooter around town, and trying to bake gluten-free cake that doesn’t taste like gluten-free cake. She’s a staff writer at Groupon, and loves girls, inappropriate footwear, and hip-hop songs with filthy lyrics.