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Danny Benjamin ran the Carnaby Cavern boutique in London in the 1960's and 1970's, and employed a team of tailors to make outfits for the rich and famous.
A pretty-looking, small, effeminate man came into the shop. I can usually tell at a glance, but even I wondered for a moment. His name he told me was 'Roberto'. And he wanted an evening dress made. I was a little doubtful. I'd made dresses for girls, but for a guy....
Nowadays anything goes, but in the sixties, it was only beginning, but then it jarred just a little. He explained what he wanted. It wasn't hard. I explained how much fabric I would require, and he went on his way to buy his cloth.
I realised that 'Otis' (my dressmaker) was unshockable,and would be happy to measure and make the dress. We had just finished costumes for the girls at a local nightclub..'La Valbone'.
Their message had been very clear. The more cleavage, the bigger the tip!.. so all our efforts for the last week were in pushing busts together, but only as far as not to show the nipples. I love my work!
I thought about my other tailors: Philip, Petros, Simon,and especially Chris, and wondered how they would react to a man in a dress! I laughed to myself, there would I'msure be bloodshed...
I designed the dress. Otis, as I thought, took the measurements making no fuss at all. Why didn't I take the measurements?'Cause I didn't want to! No Way! There has to be some perks to being the boss. And that is my number one...
A week later our little 'Roberto' returned. Unfortunatelyfor him, he chose to come on a Saturday. We were really busy! 'Ray', one of the 'Harlem Globe-trotters' was in the next fitting room. Our fitting rooms were fine for folkup to 6' 6", but our 'Ray' was at least a foot taller. He was seriously tall.
He looked down at our little 'Roberto' and in the deepest voice you have ever heard enquired: "What are you?man." The shop was laughing, fit to drop. There was no malice, he just wasn't sure. He'd seen this little man enter the fitting room, and watched closely as he put on his panty girdle and white stockings.
He loved the high heels and was utterly taken with the long-haired black wig. And now a padded white bra over his hairy black chest. (Maybe his next job was to shave the chest?)
Ray repeated the question: "What are you? man."By now there was no business being done in the shop whatsoever. 'Roberto' was ignoring the questions and was getting ready for his fitting. He now had his dress on, for now he was ready for the fitter.
'Ray' was quick to realise he had a rapt audience, and ever the showman, was now giving a running commentary on the events going on below him. Finishing every line with the question ... "What are you? man."
True, it was my job to enter the fitting room and fit! That little devil that can come to any of us came upon me in spades! I rushed down to 'Chris' "Oh Chris, there's a young lady in fitting room three, she's embarrassed, she wants a fitting in her cubicle."
'Chris', an original of the groping dirty old man brigade,with not a word of reply he had his pins, his tape measure around his neck, and was upstairs in a flash!..
'Ray' was still in his commentary. But paused when 'Chris' entered. He soon was on his knees. How he didn't hear the turmoil, the laughter, but 'Chris' continued with his work of love!
I was shaking with laughter, awaiting for the explosion I just knew must come! All was quiet, maybe I was wrong. 'Chris' had obviously accepted the high heels, the white stockings, even the suspenders, getting no doubt turned on by it all.
'Ray' then ruined it all. 'Chris', now standing up and seeing the hairy chest... the padded bra... 'Ray' said once again "What is it? Man,"
All went quiet. It's lucky for you I don't speak Greek --for I can't tell you what was said! It was very, very loud and indeed venomous to the extreme. I do recall him spitting at poor little 'Roberto'.
But I do remember what little 'Roberto' said, it was, "Oh my god," and finally from dear 'Ray' "What is it? man".
We did continue to make dresses for men, but there can be only one 'Roberto'. He was special. It was sad that one man should be the butt of our humour. I know it was wrong, but it was funny.. very funny...
Danny Benjamin, Middlesex, 2002
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