Claims Department Issue 12

This is all about Fashion

 This is the Claims “Where is it?” so that the sun
Department I’d “Baltimore.” was only starting
started working on I hadn’t been to Baltimore in to rise. The place
about a year ago more than five years, so I wanted to go was open and I
and never finished and hang out. I was broke (as always) was hungry. I’d
because I was so so I had to catch a ride from Boston slept 2/3 of the
busy thinking of so to Baltimore with a friend. It was easy way down, which
many other issues because my friends were always want- was impressive
of various fanzines. ing to go places. In this case, it was since we left in the
This one is all about Judith, who hadn’t been around much, middle of the day.
fashion and it’s for but was glad to be there. She grabbed “This place
the eFanzines.com me around noon on Thursday, about looks like the kind
edition of Claims De- five minutes after my last class for the of joint where
partment. The story week (I had a great sched at that point) there might be a
behind this one is and she powered us down there faster fist fight at any
my trip to a very than I’d thought possible. She drives moment.” Judith
fun fashion show in like I do...only with far less space noted.
Boston. Remember: between her and the car in front of “You see
these were the days her. We’d stopped a few places along Natural Born Killers? The diner with
when I wasn’t as the way, so we were driving late into that waitress? That’s gotta be this
good a guy as I am the night, but she got us there with place.” I noted.
today. enough time to spare before anything It turned out not to be the place
good started happening. We discovered (that one was in Arizona) but we or-
One Night In Bangor a little greasy dered in traditional Chris and Judith
I’ve never been to Maine, but this spoon right manner.
was suposed to be the start of a trip over the Mary- “One thing of wheat toast, one
up there to hang out at a lodge for the land border. thing of orange juice, one order of fries
weekend. It didn’t happen because I and some hashbrowns.”
got a call. Andy’s “Who gets what?” the waitress, a
“Chris, this is Brad Brown.” Brad Andy’s young woman who must not have been
was a guy I met when I was working was a small more than 20.
as a runner for the paper. I didn’t even diner the likes “Just lower the plates between
know he had my number. “You want to of which you’ve us and we’ll sort it out.” Judith said.
cover the Dangerous Beauty Ball?” seen a hun- Since I’d slept much of the way,
“What the hell is that?” dred times. we hadn’t talked much. Judith and
“It’s a gothic/fantasy Ball that We were there I always had a lot to talk about, es-
has a fashion show beforehand. It’s a early enough pecially when we were tap-dancing
lot of fun.” around the fact that we were both
crazy about each other. I was think- Ewoks and the list of the porno titles.
ing of asking her if she wanted to join Those were two of my favourite parts
me at the show, but I knew she would and we argued as the food was put be-
have better places to go. In this case, tween us.
she had a friend in Washington that “Can we get some biscuits and
she was screwing anytime she made gravy with extra gravy?” Judith asked.
it down that far. We started chatting The waitress was back with the bis-
about movies and I mentioned that I cuits and a tub of gravy in less than a
had just seen one of the best Science minute. We smothered the hashbrowns
Fiction films of All-Time: The Day The with the gravy and dug in.
Earth Stood Still. She said the only Oh My Sweet Jesus Lord it was
thing she didn’t like about it was the heavenly. The gravy was better than
damn kid who kept saying ‘Geez Mr. anything I’d ever eaten. It was chock-
Carpenter.” This led to a discussion full of crumbled up sausage and big
of how much you can overlook of the chunks of black pepper. It was whiter
little things before it starts to seriously than snow and it just couldn’t be beat
effect the movie. I brought up that the for full flavor. I was amazed and we or-
best moment dered two more cups of it to use on ev-
in Three and a erything. They were also kind enough
Baby was the to let us have some grated cheese so
briefest of the that we could do our version of the
brief cameos by Montreal favourite Poutine (or however
Collin Quinn. you spell it). It was delicious and fat-
She said that tening and we just had the best time
didn’t make the ever eating.
movie watch- Oddly, the two of us spent much
able, and I of the time talking about our SigOths.
had to agree. She had a fwe guys that she bounced
We talked a between and I was single, though hav-
lot. and she ing a slight fling with M. The ins and
brought up outs of our relationships were often
Clerks. I loved the main source for meal conversation.
Clerks, but Either that, or ghost stories. Ghost
she hated the stories and maybe a few Bigfoot tales.
little things Maybe movie quotes. Or Simpsons. Or
like the discus- wrestling. OK, we didn’t always talk
sion about the about relationships, but especially
when Judith and
I were chatting
things got into the
deep nooks and
crannies. Some-
times she would
over-share...and
usually I’d go even
further. That was a
fault I had back in
those days.
I guess I still have that issue as
the Drink Tank often proves.
After the meal, it was time to
head out to our respective arenas. I
was going to the movies.
The Movie
In the history of film, there are
a lot of very weird titles. My personal
favourite at the moment is Awesome;
I Fuckin’ Shot That!. One of the more
memorable ones of the 1990s was To
Wong Foo; Thanks for Everything,
Julie Newmar. Now, it’s not the typi-
cal movie, it’s one of those movies that
takes guys who are typecast in other
areas and tries to make them into
something different. In this case, it
takes two of the toughest sreen idols,
The Swayze (Patrick Swayze) and Wes-
ley Snipes, and turns them into Drag
Queens. Now, Drag Queens were very
much in vogue at the momen with the
huge success of Priscella: Queen of
the Desert. That movie, starring Hugo
Weaving, Guy Pierce and Zod him-
self, Terance Stamp, was a great film
and one of the first to really introduce
Australia as one of the majour film
centres of the world. In fact, without P:
QotD, we may never have seen Muriel’s
Wedding, Strictly Ballroom or Cosi. To
Wong Foo wasn’t Priscella.
The story is one that makes
sense: a group of drag queens, who are
passing themselves off as actual wom-
en, get stuck in a small town. Now the
cast is actaully pretty good, with John
Leguizamo as the third drag queen
and Brett Butler as the local woman
who befriends them. Butler was still on
the big time with a show on ABC and
still doing big money on the Stand-up
circuit. The weird thing is that she was
also at the peak of her drug use.
I have to say that this isn’t the
peak of Swayze’s career. He had done
his best bad ass work in the late 1980s
(Roadhouse) and the best self-refer-
ential work in Donnie Darko (which I
write about in Claims Department #1).
He wasn’t much of a comedian at this
point, even though he did one of the
funnier episodes of SNL in the early
1990s. Wesley Snipes is a good come-
dian when he wants to be, but here he
wasn’t well suited to the role. Leguiza-
mo was perfect. He’s a genius and has
comedic timing beyond anyone who
has ever worked with him. Even when
he’s doing drama, he’s got a timing
that just blows me away.
The story rolls around and sorta
ends with one of those “ah, it’s so good
to see things all worked out” and it
doesn’t leave you much afterwards. I
can remember coming out of the the-
atre, sometime around 1 or so, and I
wasn’t thinking about the film at that
point. The last film that washed over
me so quickly before just as quickly
washing away was Showgirls. Nothing
left behind.
Now, I could have gone to The
National Aquarium, to the place where
Edgar Allen Poe was buried, to the
Waterfront, but instead, I headed to
the part of town where the show was
taking place. I wasn’t surprised that it
was a section of town surrounded by
industrial warehouses and other night
clubs. It was also not the part of town
I wanted to be in for too long. I walked
away and found a small shopping mall.
It wasn’t like the wonderful malls of
Northern California where you can find
a Hot Dog on a Stick or a Bennigans,
but it was more than just a strip mall
(which is also one of the wonderful
things about this great state of mine).
It was a walking mall that looked to be
about 30 years old, with stores that
were half chain stores and half local
owned. There was also a wonderful
lunch place that looked pretty good.
I hate eating alone without a book or
something to keep my eyes busy. Now,
sometimes that can include simply
having a lovely lady in a booth nearby
that I can ogle (I know, I’m a pig).
There was a small bookstore that had a
mess of used books in the back. It also
had one of those sorting systems that I
like so much. You walked in and there
was a wall of books that stretched the
length of the back wall that towered
over you. It was almost too impossible
a task to find anything you were actu-
ally trying to find, but I did manage to
locate a couple of things that looked
favorable. One of them was a book that
I’d never read but had heard much
about.
Tim Powers is probably the
greatest LA-area writer who every
lived. OK, that might be a little
much, but he’s one of the guys who
was turing out SteamPunk and later
Urban Fantasy that was just the bee’s
knees. He was one of the people that
SteamPunk was named for, as there
was a letter to one of the SF mags at
the time that said since everything
was getting punk added to it, like
SplatterPunk, that Tim Powers and Jim
Blaylock should be called SteamPunks.
It stuck. The book of Power’s that I
thought was his best was The Anubis
Gate, whcih is the one that I bought
that day in Baltimore.
The central character of the
book is William Ashbless. That’s
both true and misleading. The book
is about a professor who is running
around through 19th century London
looking for William Ashbless. The
story rocks and rolls through the 19th
cenutry, with all sorts of strange notes
and anachronisms. The lyrics of the
Beatles serve as an important portion
of the story. As with all time-travel
stories, it’s mostly about finding ways
to play with the timestream and how
to properly get back home to his own
time...with the girl, of course.
It’s weird. Totally fantasy ori-
ented, which usually isn’t my thing,
but there’s enough of a SteamPunk ele-
ment to it to make me want to read it.
There’s an evil overlord-type that I love,
and a great weasely helper/turncoat.
That’s another character I love, espe- thing for covering the event: long East
cially when they’re from that certain German Army trench coat over a black
age of England. t-shirt and a pair of black pants. Only
Reading it, Tim Powers certainly black Converse hi-tops seemed to ruin
writes like a genius, but his real power the image. I saw that there were people
isn’t in his prose but in his characters milling about the front door, obviously
and the connected mythos that they smoking cloves. I wasn’t sure what
all share. The William Ashbless char- was goingon, mostly since it was still a
acter, which he co-created and fleshed couple of hours before the announced
out with my man Jimmy-Jam Blaylock, opening. I noticed that a woman with a
is a great creation. He’s a poet whose gorgeous silver streak through her hair
greatest work, the Twelve Hours of the was directing traffic, sending people
Night, is a poem of extreme perfection. through the doors and yelling into the
The other character who doesn’t warehouse with a certain flair. I figured
so much appear but is the reason for her for the organizer.
the story, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. “Move those fucking chairs!” she
He’s one of my favourite poets and he
was born on my birthdate. The hero
was sent back because his client want-
ed him to attend a Coleridge lecture.
That’s a nice touch.
Adding in little pieces from real-
ity with the fantasy is a great thing,
making details more important and
giving full fun for the reading.
I had a really bad roast beef
sandwich and a plate of good fries.
I read for almost four hours. That’s
right, four hours. They wouldn’t refill
my Coke for free, so I kept on buying
new ones. They didn’t mind since I had
a bill that was approaching 40 bucks
by the time I started to head towards
the show.
The Fashion Show
Now, I was wearing the right

had a voice that must have been smok-
ing since birth “You can’t block the
goddamned fire exit.”
“Excuse me, I’m...”
“Move them NOW! Fuck. You’re
Chris Garcia, right?”
“Yeah, Brad called. He set every-
thing up. Since you’re here early, why
don’t you go back and talk to some of
the models.”
Indeed, why didn’t I just go back
and talk to a few of the models? That
was going to be a highlight for sure, so
I headed into the warehouse, ignoring
the yells from the A few of them were already dressed. I
doorway of the foul- discovered that they were the ones who
mouthed organizer. were basically parading in the stuff
The place was they would wear on an average day.
being fully outfitted There was one girl, a tall and pale girl
with everything a with Bettie Page bangs and a corset
fashion show would that would have made Morticia Ad-
need. There were dams ask ‘Why is she doing that to
rivet kids setting out herself?’. She was drinking a bottle of
chairs in neat diagonal water and staring out the window. I
rows. There was a figured she’d be a good place to start.
stage that jutted out “Hi,” I said while I walked to-
into the audience. wards her. “I’m reporting on...”
This would have been “You’re from California.” she
completely normal said, an unmistakable Russian accent.
for a normal fashion
show if there hadn’t
been the little touches.
There was unwound
barbed wire on the
floor surrounding
the stage and they’d
rigged a series of
small Christmas lights
mingled with the wire and then they
through some shiny chains in with
them.
From the ceiling, there were a
few stalagmites of exposed chicken
wire which someone had dripped
candle wax all over. The lighting was
from up front, but it would still get
hot enough to melt the wax, and since
it looked like there was at least five
gallons of wax on those things, it was
going to drip steady all night long.
I made my way to the back area
where a few of the models were sitting.
 “Yeah, San Jose.”
“That’s near San Francisco,
right?”
“Yeah, an hour south.”
She looked at me hard and long.
She wasn’t overly pretty, but she had a
very angular face.
“I lived in San Francisco two
summers ago.”
I pulled out my pad.
“Who do you write for?”
“I’m freelance, but I think this is
going to be in the Phoenix.”
“Oh.” she said.
“Mind if I ask your name?”
“Natasha.”
Of course it was.
“Where you from, I mean before
San Francisco?”
“I was born in Moscow, but I
came to the Us when I was 10. I lived
in LA until five years ago. Then I move
to San Francisco and then Washing-
ton.”
We chatted about Washington,
La and a little about the Bay Area. She
was facinating, but I soon realised that
I wasn’t interviewing her, I was flirting.
This would not do.
“I’ve gotta try and get a few more
people. I’ll catch up with you later?” I
said, trying to sound both professional
and suave.
“I’ll be at the after-party. We can
talk more.”
The entire conversation, she
never smiled once.
I noticed that we must have
been talking for a while because there
were more models and many o fthose
who hadn’t been dressed when I came
in were now dressed. I walked over to
one girl in a mutilated ballerina dress.
She and I talked about her goth name
(Lucid DeRoyale) and her real name
(Lucinda Reed) and how she came to
Goth (via High School loners) and what
she was wearing (a dress she bought at
an old Thirft Store outside the beltway
that had a ton of old Prom dresses and
the like).I moved on to another girl,
and a couple more.
The last girl I talked to was
called simply The Missing. She was
huge, probably 5’10 without the giant
boots that she was wearing. She had
done her face up with black make-
up around her eyes that dripped as if
she’d been crying. She also smeared
the make-up down her arms. She was
wearing a black tank top and a corset
that was cinched as tight as possible
and a skirt that was actually made
from scraps sown to a belt. The look
was on one level gorgeous but it also
was a bit sad and a bit scary. I guess it
helped that she was shapely in general.
I tried to talk to her for a minute and
eventually she started talking.
I understood why she was reluc-
tant to speak: she had a wicked strong
Southern Accent. Seriously, I dated
a girl from Pickens, South Carolina
and she had nothing on this girl. I got
out of her the fact that she was from
Mobile, Alabama. She had a certain
enchantment in silence, but was ulti-
mately human when she opened her
mouth. We chatted for a couple of min-
utes and then, when I figured I should
go and take my seat, she gave me a
kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll see you later, hon.” she said
as the least possible Goth way of say-
ing goodbye.

I headed over to the area marked
‘Reserved’ and found a seat in the front
row. I was sitting next to a girl who
I think weighed about 90 pounds, at
least 10 of which could be accounted
for by her make-up. There were guys in
turtlenecks, kids in black, a couple of
girls in corsets in the audience. Of the
couple of hundred chairs around only
ninety or so were filled. The Organizer
was looking worried as I understood
that this was some sort of fundraiser
and the attendance wasn’t nearly what
she must have expected. The spotlights
and stage lighting hit and the show
began.
The Show
I’ve been to a few fashion shows
and this one was a little different. It
started with a recorded spoken word
piece that must have been done by
the Smoking Organizer. I remember
thinking that it was most typically
Goth and gloomy and it set the tone.
The first woman came down the
runway and she was dressed pretty
averagely. Honestly, I expected more.
She was in a long, black flowy thing,
nothing you wouldn’t see at any of
a hundred different Goth clubs on a
Friday night. The next girl was in what
I call skimpy goth: almost nothing
giving any sort of non-translucence.
You could clearly see her underthings
whcih were only vaguely shimmering
over her pretty visible underbits. She
was followed by a typical club girl.
Then another flowy Goth girl. Another
club girl. There were about fifteen girls
who had nothing too spectacular about
them. I noticed the wax dripping on the
girls as they walked by and there were
a couple of cones forming on the floor.
There was another piece fo spoken
word here and I was lucky enough to
be ni the front row, right where the
girls make the turn. I got the concept
immediately as the first model came
into view.
Dragon Woman.
She was probably half-Asian and
she was stacked, but most importantly,
she was pale and stunning. She wore a
dress that you would see on a Madame
in a stereotypical film about a ste-
reotypical Chinese den of vice. It was
incredible and a bit saucy if you asked
me. She played eye games on her trip
up and down the catwalk. She would
lock on and bring you in, then sharply
turn away to do the same to the next
viewer. The girl was good.
The next was another somewhat
ornate outfit. She was a Goth business
girl with the suit, the skirt and every-
thing. Then, when she had passed, you
could see that it was all a false front
and there were only two straps, rachet
straps in fact, holding the outfit togeth-
er. It was a weird piece.
The next couple were good, one
of them a sort of Prom Dress made out
of newspaper headlines glued to it. It
was bizarre but when I looked closer,
it was all headlines about serial killers
and at least one ad for Hardee’s, which
I thought was a wild add. The other
one was the recreation of a Southern
Church-goin’ woman’s Sunday Best,
complete with the hat, only done en-
tirely in black and grey with the hat
that had some sort of evil creature. The
fabric was watermarked too with the
same kind of grotesque monster, but
it only showed when she turned. She
also took a direct hit from the dripping
wax.
 A couple of more
came by in similar
vein, but then the real
interesting ones started.
The Southern girl in
her corset and skirt,
only now the ends of
the skirt were smoking.
I then realised that
there was an extra set
of candleholders on a
truss system haning
out the back. she also
must have lit the ends
of the scraps and then
patted them out to
keep them smoldering
and smoking. It was
an amazing effect and
I noticed that they
slightly dimmed the
lights for her. She also stood directly
under the wax which was dripping and
stodd there staring at some random
point in the crowd. A small and steady
stream came down on her. It was the
best of the night.
There were a few others,
including a pair of women in Marie
Antoinette attire that started
making out on the ramp, which was
AWESOME!!!. These were the big
showy pieces that were expected, but
I wasn’t as impressed because the
wearers weren’t putting it out there like
The Missing. About twenty more giant,
impressively difficult and basically
impossible pieces were turned out, and that led to even more
shown and then the conversation. Another Goth Chick, one
entire thing became the who hadn’t been in the show but had
After-Party. been sitting on the other side of the
runway from me, joined us and we just
THE AFTERPARTY! kept talking. We must have talked for
I walked around a full five hours, because the Smoking
and introduced myself Girl came over and said they needed to
to a few of the models clear everyone out.
and a couple of other “I know a little place for break-
people. I told them fast, if you got the time.” The Missing
about my story, about said.
what I was going to be “I can always go for breakfast.” I
writing. They all seemed said.
excited, as if having a We both answered and headed
reporter from Boston in out of the warehouse to The Missing’s
their midst made them car. She wiped some of her make-up off
important. In reality, I and threw a long-sleeved shirt over the
was a college kid who dress. We got to the coffee shop as the
basically got a call from sun was rising.
a friend at work. As soon as we walked in, the
After an hour or so, The Missing hostess smiled a giant Southern Smile.
returned and found me. She was If you’re unfamiliar with the Southern
wearing something un-burnt, actually, Smile, go to a Waffle House on a
it was a lovely black dress that trailed Sunday morning after church and you’ll
about two feet behind her. see at least
“Wadid ya think uh-my show?” one.
she said.
“It was bloody brilliant, that’s “Hey there,
what.” I said, probably a little more Hannah.
excited about it than I should have Who’s your
been. She smiled and we chatted. I friend?”
flirted with her and she flirted back. She
At least I think she flirted back. She looked a little
was Southern, and that can be very sheepish at
confusing. We chatted for a long having her
time. She really liked wrestling, it name given
away. just such occassions. I thought for a moment.
“This is Chris. He’s from Califor- “What’s so funny?” “I don’t think I got her number.”
nia.” “You’re not going to do anything Judith laughed out loud and we
“California? You surf?” with her. You know it, I know it. She drove the rest of the way with her be-
I laughed a little. I seldom got doesn’t. I’m betting she’s practically ing very smug.
that particular thing unless I was in a going to beg you to be with her and So, that’s what happened. It
place like Duquette or Mobile. you’re not going to do anything about was a fun time and I might have
“Yep, there’s a law saying all it.” been able to do something with a
twenty million of us gotta surf at least lovely lass, but I blew it. Story of my
once a week.” life.
I got a laugh out of her for that So, the next issue will be out
one too. We sat and chatted over pan- in a few months for FAPA and then
cakes. I barely noticed that we were it’s another mid-term issue for
sharing one plate. The Missing sure eFanzines.com and that’ll probably
didn’t eat much, though she downed be the one with a lot of my TAFF
cup after cup of coffee. stuff...if I manage to win. The next
“You know, I’m heading up to one will have a theme: Black &
Boston in a few weeks.” White. It’ll be an interesting issue.
I looked her dead in the eyes.
“Well, if you need a couch, I’ve
got one free.”
She looked her pancake dead in
the eye before she looked back up.
“I’ve got a hotel room for the
weekend. I could always use a little
company.” she said in a voice that
made me desperate to make sure it
happened.
Sadly, it never did.
After a while, I had to go and
meet Judith. We drove back home and
I told her the whole story, probably in
more detail than in this issue because
it was freash in my mind and I could
embellish it so much better back in
those golden days. Judith was smiling
that knowing smile she always has for