Strutting My Stuff at the CSD Parade

How I Turned Heads (and Maybe Some Ankles) in My Pink Mini Dress

Ah, the CSD Parade. The one day of the year when the streets are filled with more color than a rainbow threw up on a unicorn. This year, I decided to embrace the spirit and attend in style. Forget blending in; I was going to stand out like a flamingo in a flock of pigeons. The outfit? A pink mini dress that could make Barbie herself jealous, a matching pink collar (because why not?), and a straw hat to keep my brain from frying under the relentless sun. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. But hey, it was a look.

The Preparation: A Comedy of Errors

Getting ready for the CSD Parade was like trying to dress a cat in a tuxedo. It sounds easy in theory, but in practice, it's a mix of hissing, chaos, and wondering why you ever thought this was a good idea. First, there was the mini dress. Now, let me clarify something: when I say "mini," I mean MINI. The kind of mini that makes you question whether it’s actually a dress or just a long shirt. But fashion is pain, right?

Then came the pink collar. I thought it would add a touch of playful irony to my ensemble. Turns out, it added a touch of choking hazard. I spent a solid ten minutes in front of the mirror, trying to decide if it was tight enough to be cute or if I was just one deep breath away from becoming a human tomato.

And finally, the straw hat. Practical, stylish, and totally not the kind of thing that flies off your head with the slightest breeze. Except, it totally is. But at this point, I was committed. I was ready to hit the streets and show the world that I could wear pink better than a strawberry milkshake.

My CSD Outfit

 

The Parade: Where the Wild Things Are

Stepping into the CSD Parade was like entering another dimension. A dimension where every color known to humanity was on display, along with a few that might just have been invented that day. People were laughing, dancing, and generally having the time of their lives. And then there was me, strutting through the crowd in my pink mini dress, trying not to think about how much sunscreen I’d applied to my newly exposed thighs (spoiler: not enough).

The moment I joined the parade, I realized my mistake. In a sea of fabulous drag queens, glittering costumes, and people who had clearly spent weeks perfecting their outfits, my pink mini dress felt like showing up to a black-tie event in your pajamas. But I was here, and I was determined to own it.

The Reactions: From Double-Takes to Full Stops

If there’s one thing I learned at the CSD Parade, it’s that people love pink. Or at least, they love to stare at people who wear it head to toe. I lost count of the number of double-takes I received as I strutted my stuff down the parade route. Some people looked amused, others looked confused, and a few looked like they were trying to figure out if I was part of the parade or just some lost tourist who had taken a wrong turn at Starbucks.

One particularly memorable moment was when a group of teenagers started chanting, “Yass, queen!” as I walked by. I’m not sure if they were cheering for my outfit or just for the fact that I hadn’t yet tripped over my own feet. Either way, I gave them a little twirl (nearly losing my hat in the process) and sashayed on.

And then there was the moment. You know, the one that seems like it’s straight out of a slapstick comedy. As I was crossing a particularly gusty stretch of the street, a rogue wind decided to make an appearance. Before I knew it, my dress did its best impression of a Marilyn Monroe moment, but with a lot more exposure. There I was, mid-strut, when the entire parade got a very clear view of not only my pink mini dress but also my equally pink panties. Yes, friends, everything down to the last detail matched. There were a few gasps, some whistles, and more than a few amused grins. I quickly pushed my dress back down and kept walking, blushing as pink as my outfit, but hey, at least I was coordinated!

The Sun: My Unforgiving Nemesis

Despite the compliments and the general euphoria of the parade, there was one small detail I had overlooked: the sun. Oh, the sun. In my excitement to embrace the pink theme, I had forgotten that standing under the blazing summer sun in a short dress and a hat that provided about as much shade as a cocktail umbrella was a recipe for disaster.

By the time the parade was in full swing, I was sweating more than a popsicle at a barbecue. My hat, which had seemed like such a good idea in the morning, was now more of a liability. Every gust of wind threatened to turn it into a projectile weapon. At one point, I had to choose between holding onto my hat or waving at a group of rainbow-painted dogs (I waved, naturally). The hat flew off, and I had to chase it down the street, which was, let’s just say, less than graceful. I’m pretty sure a few people thought it was part of a performance art piece. Maybe it was.

The Aftermath: A New Shade of Red

By the end of the parade, I was tired, sunburned, and more than ready to swap my mini dress for something that covered more than 30% of my body. My legs, which hadn’t seen the light of day since last summer, were now sporting a shade of red that matched my dress. As I hobbled home, I reflected on the day. Yes, I might have looked a little ridiculous. Yes, I might have underestimated the power of the sun. And yes, I might have given half the parade an unexpected show. But you know what? I had fun. And that’s what the CSD Parade is all about.

Next year, I might opt for something a little more practical, like a full-body glitter suit or maybe just a giant rainbow flag to hide under. But this year, I was the person in the pink mini dress, and I owned it—blisters, sunburn, and all.

So here’s to the CSD Parade, to ridiculous outfits, and to the joy of being yourself, even if that means chasing your hat down a crowded street or flashing your pink panties to the world. If you’re thinking about attending next year, I highly recommend it. Just don’t forget the sunscreen. And maybe a bigger hat.