Though many disagree with her method of combating depression, Old Ma Wrinkles holds steadfast to her belief that the best way to deal with her pet tortoise’s untimely death is to spend each night scantily bedaubed in clinquant garb, oversized costume jewelry, and 6 inch heels, flirting with drunken sailors, retirees, frat boys–anyone, really–that slightly resembled that son of a gun, Tortelloni, her fallen Testudinidae love. -Gladys Potter
You may think that my method for dealing with the assholes that come into my store is really nothing but a way of turning my brain off because I simply nod at every request like a grinning zombie. What you don’t know is that I’m on PCP and as my customers speak their wrinkled faces glitter, clinquant, shining like a rainbow oil puddle on a sparkling opal sea.
~Lady SchwartzDorothy knew she certainly was nowhere near Kansas as she shuffled in her ruby slippers—hardly as garish as her current surroundings—through the clinquant town, gasping with increasing shock as man after man popped up out of nowhere, some dressed as naked flowers, some wearing “Fire Island” t-shirts, and others simply bedecked in bedazzled Never-You-Minds, most holding bottles of ale or white wine spritzers, all teeming with sexual excitement. She realized that their method of merrymaking was not simply for the sake of merrymaking, but for the celebration of July 4th, officially America’s gayest holiday.