Getting OTT on Gaga

I was at dinner with Boyfriend and his London Friend earlier this year. I happened to bring up a favourite subject of mine.

“Can you pass the salt, please? Speaking of salt, what do you think of Lady Gaga?”

London Friend is a fashion designer that works for a pretty high end Italian brand. He obviously knows his shit when it comes to clothes. He did not speak about her creative design or think much of Haus of Gaga. He opined Gaga as cool for her individuality and self-expression.

“A friend of mine designs clothes for her,” he said. “He does some work for Haus of Gaga. At the moment he is working on a dress that releases dry ice.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” I was genuinely fascinated.

“Well this particular design is not going well. He’s not sure how feasible the dry ice dress is since it might burn or kill her.”

“Oh,” I answered awe struck. “Yes, that might be a problem. I am seeing her in the O2 in a few weeks time. Hopefully her dry ice dress will be ready by then. Some friends and I were thinking of getting all dressed up as a tribute to her.”

“That would be fun,” he commented. “I could probably get you some of her stuff, if you wanted.”

My thoughts left the dining table for another realm. I imagined myself turning up at the O2 in some of Gaga’s get up. My mind’s eye pictured people taking photos of me in my Gaga Costume.

“Your costume is so authentic!” they would cry at me from behind the many camera flashes.

“I know!” I would answer, revelling in the attention, behind a wacky Philip Treacy face-mask-type-hat.

My dream sequence rolled forward to Lady Gaga’s performance. I stood in the front of the standing area, dancing to Gaga’s vocals. She scans the crowd and looks in my general direction. She notices me. She turns to her production team and shouts something. The music suddenly stops.

“Excuse me,” she roars into the crowd. “Where did you get your outfit?”

The entire occupancy of the O2 is staring at me. Lady Gaga glares angrily from the stage.

I awoke from my trance. I was back at the dining table with Boyfriend and London Friend. A chill ran down my spine.

“That’s a very kind offer, but I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Boyfriend and London Friend looked confused and excluded.

“It would end badly,” I added, before changing the conversation.

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