Really, I suppose it must be by now…
An acquaintance used that term tonight, in a conversation about my thing for clothes.
I can admit it has grown into that, but – honestly – I am the one that has experienced the entire process from the inside and I can say that my choice of dress comes from many many many places simultaneously.
(And to be clear, my preferred word is kink, not fetish. I like precision in my word choices and considering the scientific use of fetish suggests that the object is required for sexual gratification, I feel it is not accurate here.)
I enjoyed the conversation, as brief as it was. I decided to expound some on the topic. At the root of everything, I suspect I have only one kink to speak of, and that would be process. Ritual could be more specific if the images of religious ritual could be ignored for the moment. The detail of process excites my brain to an incredible degree.
And back in the day, my brain could lag behind the rest of me as I readied to head out to prowl for the night in the bars. The longer process of strapping into my leathers offered a focus for my brain to ramp up its own stimulation, so it could catch up with the rest of me. I was conscious of this at that time…
Also, I have spent a majority of my adult life working to be a consistent, cohesive person throughout all the various parts of my life. This also means I oppose the idea of hiding my sexual being away for the darkest times of night.
As different parts of myself wound more tightly together, I got surprising results. As example, in the past few years, I have developed a response to excellent color schemes and color matching that is physical. I get goosebumps, and the hairs on my arms rise on end. Of course, other things get associated with goosebumps in my brain and in my body, so soon after, my nipples harden. And when they get hard, so does everything else. Good to be Herr van der Hole, right…?
Going from there, when I dress to go out, and I assemble an outfit that fits strongly together – unified in look and color plalette and texture – I start getting excited. If I succeed in multiple patterns, even better.
Add to this my bodies response to the layers of fabric. I like traditional boxers beneath my trousers. And I prefer a tight cut to my trouser leg. This combination leaves the boxer shorts pulling back and forth across my thigh muscles beneath the snug wool of the trouser. The results mimic the pull of leather trousers against my skin that so easily excited me in my youth. Again, the result is positively engorging.
The extravagance of such a ridiculous wardrobe brings another layer. Considering budgetary limits and the bounty of local thrifting, I feel accomplished in my consumerism while still avoiding excessive spending. This is a turn-on.
Perhaps the most hidden part of this is the ‘hide in broad daylight’ aspect. Traditional leather visuals have been co-opted by pop culture. Every gay man owns a vest, harness or suspenders, independent of whether he has ever fucked around in any of it…
I enjoy the idea of being the big, bad leather pervert dressed in a suit. The wolf in sheep’s clothing; the queer in business attire. The blue collar factory worker reversing the office worker’s night out in Carharts.
All of this passes through my brain as I button up the shirt, and tighten the tie’s knot about my neck. Conscious choices, attention to details, and a ritualized process have all blurred the lines into the makings of a sartorial fetish.
Oh, let’s just make that a dapper kink.
May you all find the bends and twisted that excite you most in this world.
Journey on, my lovelies!