Skip to main contentIt was near midnight when I lost my underpants. Well, I didn't really "lose" them. I just sort of slipped them off from under my dress.
I had a good excuse for covering my frame in an ill-fitting knit number (and losing my panties, but more on that later). I'd avoided it at all costs for years, but my partner had finally forced me into a frock and dragged my ass to one of P-town's most notorious events: the Red Dress Party.
Just six years ago the RDP was a basement shindig with 75 gay guys. This year's RDP, held appropriately enough on April Fool's day, drew 1,598 dress-covered partygoers (or uncovered, as was the case with the more out-there ensembles) to a chilly warehouse in Northeast Portland. It raised over $25,000 for three beneficiaries, including the Q Center (which my partner is on the board of—hence why we had to go).
Now, the main reason I'd excluded myself from parties with mandatory red-dress policies up to this point was I look like crap in a dress. But another reason was my fear that I might enjoy the whole thing.
And of course, that's exactly what happened. Not only is this one of this city's gayest and freakiest parties—it's also pretty damn fun. And increasingly female.
"It's becoming popular with straight women who like to watch queer men make out," says Jeff Hawthorne, RDP's 35-year-old president and co-founder.
Among a thousand-plus "making out" queer boys and a few elected officials, including a school board member and a county commish (Dan and Diane: You looked hot!), were loads of ladies—and we're not talking drag queens, although there were plenty of those, too—twirling on a debauched DJ MuMu dance floor that was one part The Birdcage and two parts Caligula (although I never did find the "sex parties" that supposedly take place here).
I don't think that all these straight gals were working out some Brokeback Mountain wet dream. I just think they enjoyed watching men indulge in something they've known all along: that (gulp) it's fun to put on a dress and let go of your inhibitions.
That's what's so intriguing about this event: In a country full of narrow-minded red states, this blue state's Red Dress Party is someplace where openness is not only celebrated but encouraged. Perhaps that sounds strange, due to the fact that everyone has to wear essentially the same uniform. But it's this leveling of the playing field—and the adaptation that is born from it—that makes it so cool.
And made it easy to take off my undies.
I had never felt so free in my life, and my underwear, which that night felt more like a girdle, was getting in the way of my newfound "freedom." Sure, the free-flowing cocktail bar helped loosen me up, but there was something about that night that made it easy to go commando.
Besides, I've never been that fond of wearing panties, anyway.
WWeek 2015