I love hearing about drama, but me no likey participating in it. Maybe that’s why I tend to keep my head down socially in SL, especially when it comes to the strange romantic imbroglios some folks use the metaverse to engage in. A dj friend of mine was doing one of his gigs the other evening, and he sometimes gets out there and dorks it up on the dance floor rather than hang out in the safety zone of his spin table. Occasionally he does something really questionable like dance with the clientele. On this particular evening, he got the balls up and ready, and before the gal whom he had asked to dance could hop on, another one (one whose profile included much information about how she “voice chats” and is “up for fun” and “you should call me sometime”) elbowed the woman out of the way to hop on pop first. The one who had been asked to dance did a grand hurumph and poofed out. One angry pixel lady down, another 5,000 or so to go.
This same dj told me about a friend of his who has an entourage of pixel men she brings with her to clubs. At one of these venues, the club manager — yet another generic, long-legged hawt pixel babe — “hit on” every single last one of these guys, thereby upsetting the gal with all the man-toys. She left and will never step virtual foot in that make-believe club ever again. So there. Were all these pixel men her boyfriends? No, says my dj buddy, just her friends. Wull… then why did it matter to her that the other gal chatted them all up? I don’t know, said my friend. Does hitting on pixel men really matter, and why would anyone really want to do that anyway? Is there some sort of point system going on here; the bigger your personal opposite sex (so they say) entourage, the higher your score? Is that why the club manager was hitting on them? You score double points for actually “stealing” a pixel man away from someone else’s avatar and adding them to yours?
Any insights on why a bunch of people in the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s would get wrapped up in this sort insanity would be welcomed.
I didn’t run screaming at the thought of pink. I rather like it, although I am awfully tired of way it is used to symbolically “honor” women and “show we care” about them. Slap on a pink glow necklace, and there you go, steroidal baseball guy… proof that you “honor” your mother. What more would you ever need to do? Think of women as equal? Not relegate any woman who isn’t a mother to a lower status? Stop it with all the symbolic “honoring,” and let go of your desperate death clutch on the meaningless reigns of patriarchal power?
Nyah… why would anyone want to do that when merchandisers can just sell folks a bunch of pink crap, and it’s all good? “I honor women… see… I’m wearing pink!” ‘kay, ‘kay, ‘kay, whatever.
Evidently, I have something of a love/hate relationship with pink. Its feminized symbolic construction bugs me. At the same time, girly pink is really appealing. At the same time, it’s such a trivialized color, and thus symbolically trivializes and marginalizes women, and I hate that. And what do I go and do for this challenge? I went total femmie-girly-girly.
Normally, I’m not one for the pants-falling-down-around-mid-thigh look in SL. I’m frankly confused by it. It makes me suspect that the fashion designers are all sheltered 50 year olds who once heard back in 1998 that the pants-falling-down look was da bomb, boi-yeah, and they haven’t quite figured out that we’re 13 years down the road. It’d be like a designer trying to push the 1920 flapper look in the height of the Depression era 1930s.
I’m with Simon Doonan, who is hoping beyond hope that Catherine Middleton has ushered in the end of porno chic. He’s talking about RL, and despite the fact that SL time is completely truncated like a dog’s life, SL trenders, designers and fashion dolls all seem to be laggy behind the times something chronic. SL is like a bad Euro-pop musical variety show – stuck in a schlocky, tacky hell first hit upon somewhere about 1987, where the more pelvic floor and boobage you can show, the better. SL is the Benny Hill show, but totally taking itself seriously.
My bitching and moaning aside, I thought maybe I could do something with these NV Mad World plaid plus fours, because other than the ridiculously low-slung fit, they’re pretty groovy. I found a t-shirt and suspender set made for the dudes by *X*plosion, but it does the trick and deals with the buttocks exposure. Paired with a sloppy coral sweater from Pig, shockingly picked up the that ol’ Free Dove, I was feeling quite the hipster.
Hair: !lamb – DIY haircut – past fifty L Friday item