Back in March, I bought a corset. I've wanted one ever since I started frequenting conventions, and this spring I was finally at a con with a corsetier during a low point in my internal resolve against spending so much on such an impractical garment. Unlike the Doctor Who scarf, steel-boned brown suede with black leather trim and buckles across the front is not the sort of thing I can just go grocery shopping in. But it does match my good fedora and my black pleather miniskirt.
This weekend, I finally have a place to wear my corset (and the hat and the miniskirt and really not a whole lot else). If you're anywhere near Lexington, Kentucky, this weekend, stop by the Apex Publications table at Forge Con.
That's right. I'm going all-in as a booth babe.
Well, not quite all-in. Based on my height and the length of the outfit, I'm only going 61% in, but that's a big step out of my shell of carefully maintained professionalism and propriety. Saturday's outfit is more of the sexy than I'm used to putting out there, especially since it's sort of "at work" and enough of my job description could already apply to a webcam stripper.
I'm trying not to be nervous about this weekend. After all, I've worked the Apex table before. I've even shown up to a convention in a costume that didn't have a whole lot more coverage (yes, I have pics to prove it happened; no, I'm not linking to them). Now, I'm just combining those two and changing the audience whose attention I want to grab from one 60-something-year-old artist to an entire convention. No big deal. I just keep telling myself that and re-reading Richard Branson's blog advocating less stuffy clothing for businesspeople. If the guy with the spaceship says you should be able to be taken seriously without a business suit, it has to be true.