You Smell Like A Gay Man

**Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Although my guess is that they're not that innocent.** "You smell like a gay man." "Excuse me?" "Did you just hug my boyfriend? Because you smell like a gay man." This is how my conversation started with two of our buyers from a retail store out east. Paul and James are probably two of the most fabulous buyers I know, and quite possibly the most flamboyant. Whenever they come into our showroom, it's a Broadway production. Usually Paul starts by picking on my outfit: "Look at you Miss Thang. I know you put that outfit on just to attract the boys, you're such a little slut." "Since when do black pants make anyone a slut?" "Since forever! It's the way you walk in them. I can hear it now... 'Boys!! Boys!! Over here! Please check me out while I sit on this chaise.' You totally troll the hallways too." "Paul, that's your job, not mine." "Touche. Oooooo!!! I love that chair! I'll take two!" Paul and James usually stay for at least an hour, and the conversation sways back and forth. From the diamond tufts on our chairs, to Paul's try out for HGTV, then onto the velvets and faux silks, and back again to Paul getting cut from HGTV. Round and round we go. But then, the conversation dramatically comes to a halt. It's like Paul and James are two minds in one. They whisper, argue, then laugh. A mischievous look comes across both faces, and I know a pitch is coming: Paul: "Wouldn't be totally fabulous if you created a corner chair with button tufts in that shiny new blue velvet you showed us?" James: "It would need a contrasting welt, I am thinking green." Paul: "Absolutely, green and blue, totally hot. Let's add green buttons too!" James: "Ummm, yes please!" Paul: "And if it is totally fabulous, I can feature it in my next try out for HG." James: "Seriously Paul! Cool it for the day! I've heard enough from you." In unison, they ask: "Can we do it? Pretty please? Paul: "With a cherry!" James: "Ooo and I'll add whip cream!" Me: "Of course, you both know we'll do anything for you." (This is always my answer. As Paul taught me a few markets back, you never want to upset The Gays...his words, not mine). Toward the end of our appointment, Paul and James ask us questions, mostly the name brand designers we work with. Paul starts: "How is what's his name? Still working for Oprah? What a sellout." "Nate Berk..." James interrupts me. "Don't mention his name around me until he fixes that hair. I can't even look at him." Paul: "Let's change the subject, shall we? What's with The Muscle Gay? The one who heads up that whole operation down south. We've emailed with him and all his exclamation points and flirty xoxo signature. I pictured him more like...well...me. There isn't a chance hell I could have picked him out of a straight man's line-up!" I just laugh. Actually, I haven't stopped laughing since they walked into our showroom. He goes on: "Now, you ladies introduce me to that Jonathon when you get the chance, and I have a few questions for Carlton V as well. Also, please tell Mr. Banks that I love his plaid suits, but I wouldn't buy his plaid chairs, no offense to you guys. Oh, and snub Nate for me too." At this point, James is rolling his eyes. "PAUL! ENOUGH, WE'RE LATE! These girls have wasted our time." Both men gasp. "No really, we love you, but look at all those cute boys out in the hall. Little Miss Thang needs to get back to her post. Tootles!!" And just like that, they're gone. My abs will hurt all week from the laughter.