I tried retail a handful of times. The first time I ever got fired was from BCBG! If you can believe it, I was shit at sales. I've always been wildly persuasive, but I had a really hard time selling overpriced clothes modeled by teenagers to 45-year-old women. I didn't believe in the product and therefore could not sell it. This resulted in me being fired the day after Boxing Day (an obscenely big shopping day in Canada).
I cried on the sidewalk like a toddler, only unlike a toddler I had black mascara streaming down my awkwardly-rouged cheeks. I have since gotten better at handling rejection. Mostly.
Selling my time and skills in the form of a lap dance or champagne-soaked therapy session is easy. I'm the product and I believe in it. Stripping is an impossible job if you don't.
I was a little nervous about my first pop-up shop, but mostly excited because I knew I wouldn't be wedged between a hemp yogawear designer and artisanal jam stand. This was Popsouk. It's Ladyfag's yearly event for downtown weirdos and club kids to sell their freaky wares in fellowship. If there was ever a time in the history of humanity for me to hustle behind a table rather than on top of one, this was it.
FIRST OF ALL: Mad props to people who do pop-ups at flea markets every weekend. I woke up at the crack of 7am to burn my wrist (again) on my hair wand and layer on my smokey eye. My angel of a wife made me breakfast and helped me lug all my books, boxes, tulle and lipgloss over to Webster Hall for the 11:30 load-in time. I never leave the house before noon so please have some compassion for how overwhelming this was for me.
SECOND: Standing in stripper shoes (or any heel, for that matter) on a floor that is not carpeted is miserable. (Seriously when I see women walking around Manhattan in heels, I shudder. Until the city paves its sidewalks in 80's splashwork carpeting, I'm sticking to my motorcycle boots.)
So this was how I spent most of the day.
THIRD: So many people are making so much cool shit. I was in awe of everyone's passion, creativity and pride for their craft. Over and over I was reminded why I need to stop buying shit on Amazon (except for my book. Please buy my book there) and why I should give every spare penny I have to all of these exceptionally talented makers of dope shit.
I met some fascinating people
Sold some swag
And had a glittery ole time.
I don't say it enough, but none of this would be possible without my wife. The Beaver Show would still not be completed, the epic launch party would probably not have even happened, and I would not have the luxury of taking time off to work on all these things that you're enjoying reading, wearing, and sewing onto your backpacks. I would not be building this Empire of Happy Sluts without her love, support and patience. She's my rock, my number one motorboater, and my favourite person in the world. Danielle, thank you for helping me fold shirts, procuring the perfect white roses and always knowing when I need help (especially when I'm too proud to ask). I love you.
If you missed Popsouk, you can click right here to shop til you drop from the comfort of your own toilet.