Daspu

CONTINUED FROM THE PREVIOUS ENTRY ("NIGHTLIFE").

When the faux carioca arrived at the apartment building of her new friend, the real carioca met her in the lobby equipped with two large rolls of tape. They descended into the parking garage where the friend settled on the shabbier of her two cars and began to alter a '6' into a '0' on her license plate. Although the faux carioca did not understand the explanation for this handiwork, she decided to trust her more experienced companion's judgment.

Traffic was not as bad as they had anticipated and they arrived at the samba school just before the scheduled start time of 8:00. Of course, the only thing to start on time in Brazil is quitting time at work. So for the next hour and a half they chatted and looked at previous seasons' garb being sold in a booth at the entrance to the performance space. The room where the event was being held was really more of a small arena or very large mechanic's garage--a concrete affair with large rolling door entrances and a balcony area on three of the four sides. Plastic tables and chairs were scattered on either side of the catwalk.

The real carioca suggested they wait until after the show to buy any clothes since new stuff might be brought out to the booths at the end. As the space began to fill with people, the faux carioca grew nervous that the booth would be sold out of goods before the end of the evening (she was right). So she insisted on making her purchases before the program began. Afterwards, the two women stood next to the booth observing the crowd. A roving TV journalist made eye contact with her and before she could turn away, a bright light blinded the faux carioca and a microphone was in her face. So it happened that the faux carioca was interviewed for Brazilian TV and gave the journalist the fodder he sought by saying that there were no hooker designer labels in the U.S.

So who attended the event? All manner of people including middle-class slummers, the press, gay men, friends to the ladies, hipster lesbians (hookers? stage managers? both?), artsy types, and a random fag dork. The event began with several poetry and performance pieces that were 'beautified' by a middle-aged queen channeling Galliano who danced around the catwalk and stage with 3 meters of sheer fabric. After the performances a funk band (guitarist, bassist, drummer, keyboardist, a vocalist, and a guy scratching on two turntables) played. The band (whose name the faux carioca never learned) was kick ass and part of a Brazilian soul tradition. The crowd went wild when they did their own version of a song by the legendary Tim Maia (the Brazilian Barry White). For readers curious to know various Brazilian political opinions regarding the forthcoming U.S. election, you might be interested to learn that one singer wore a T-shirt that read, "Barack Obama for President."

After the funk band, a minister of arts talked for too long while nobody listened. The fashion show proper was preceded by members of the samba school, Tijuca, dressed in what appeared to be Elizabethan jester attire. They came out from the shadows and rafters and crept around the space before they began to dance samba as members of the bateria played music. Next a group of about 20 queens in Renaissance attire carrying swords made their dramatic entrance to "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana. No doubt the gentle reader wonders about the men in centuries-spanning European tights theme. Daspu's latest collection (casual wear and attire for people in the sex industry) is called, "Cruzadas Batalha" (Fighting Crusaders) whose theme is "as cruzadas--entre o botão e a espada" (crusaders--between the button and the sword). Button here means clothes button, but it may very well also be a slang term for a lady's naughty bit.

The collection itself--modeled mostly by prostitutes, one gigantic transvestite, and a telenovela sex symbol--was not as racy as you might imagine. Brazilian fashion-loving prostitutes and the faux carioca agree that super low slung pants are a trend that has been around for far too long. Daspu's collection for spring/summer 2009 included very high-waisted satin bloomers along the lines of a 1930s chorus girl in a Busby Berkeley film. Where it got Brazilian was in the rear with the lower bits of buttocks hanging out, though less extremely so than what one sees on the beaches here. Brass buttons marched down the ass-crack from the waist to further emphasize the much beloved Brazilian bunda. A number of such bloomers and similar trousers were featured along with loose, logo-emblazoned, jersey knit shirts and dresses ornamented by long, thin, gold leather belts wrapped multiple times around the body in a Greco-Roman fashion. One of the faux carioca's favorite pieces was a onesie shorts jumpsuit that looked like an early 20th century bathing costume. In terms of styling the collection, the designers have clearly been minding their Miuccia Prada and coordinated colorful knee-high stockings to be worn with many of their very wearable ensembles.

The faux and real cariocas stayed around afterwards to watch the samba school perform. Your gentle writer has long suspected that carnaval in Rio would be a nightmare for her. This tiny taste of the sambodromo affirmed her suspicions that one hour of eardrum shattering tinny drum beats and countless naked silicone-enhanced asses shaking but not jiggling would be quite enough.

The entire 20 minute drive back to Copacabana the real carioca talked about all of the danger surrounding them--"this area is very dark and dangerous so we can't come to a complete stop, you should never ever go to that place, over there is where the son of a famous surgeon was murdered, look at these dangerous people over here, now we're entering the tunnel where roving gangs stop cars and assault people, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid to drive by myself after I drop you off, etc." All in all it was a disturbing ride that left the faux carioca no worse for the wear.