SKIRT

BOY

I’ve always liked skirts.

But as I look at myself in the mirror now, I can’t help but feel panic climbing over my skin. I’m wearing a black skirt; it is cropped just above my knees.

The leather of my black, platform Doctor Martins gleam and warp under the ceiling light. The full length-mirror taunts me, and I want to rip off the skirt. Before the surge of anxiety can wash me under, reality calls in the form of a knock on the door.

“Eden, can I come in and see you?” A singsong, yet cautious voice calls out, beckoning me to invite them in.

I shift in the mirror. "Okay.” I say, a false sense of confidence disguises my tone. The door clicks and sways inward on its hinges. A tall, blonde boy walks through the doorway and smiles as he sees me. “I like it, very 90’s grunge, you look like you could be a member of Nirvana.” My stomach unknots itself slightly. “Thank you, I just-“ I turn to face the mirror again, “I’m not sure about the skirt.” The blonde boy comes to my side and smiles warmly, his long, sun-bleached hair kissing the collar of his shirt. “I think you look amazing, and who cares what other people think? This is who you are.”

I look down at the skirt sitting above my knees, this is who I am.

My friend, Bryn, has always known I like to wear skirts, and he has always been supportive about it. Tonight, Bryn is taking me out to Starline, it’s the only nightclub in our small coastal town. And tonight, I’m wearing a skirt for the first time in public. I’m scared shitless to be seen wearing one, but it’s time for me to embrace who I really am. The anxiety of wearing it still threatens to crawl up my spine but being with Bryn makes me feel better.

“Are you going to leave it on?” Bryn asks, his blue eyes are inquisitive. I look for the final time in the mirror, and this time, I see someone stronger than before.

I see a boy in a skirt, I see me.

“Yes.” I say.

GIRL

I have been defeated.

My friends swarm in my room. It is a warm Australian afternoon, cars are lazily passing on the searing black roads, Magpie’s warble in the trees and the air is stuffy, my bedroom window is open ever so slightly to allow a current of slightly fresher air to invite itself into my room.

I’m cornered, there’s no way out of this one. Mabel is laying on top of my bed behind me, her luscious, brown hair curling around her slim shoulders. She is one of the friends crawling around my bedroom. Mabel looks effortlessly stunning in the orange afternoon light, sunlight casting rays on her tan skin. Meanwhile, in the mirror I’m sat in front of, I appear gangly and awkward. My strawberry blonde hair looks greasy as it coils around my chest. I’m pale and freckly. The Patroclus to her Achilles - small and quiet as opposed to her beauty.

A few others of my friends lay scattered around the room, one on a stool, one at my desk, another spread across the carpeted floor. She is learning backwards on her arms with her legs sprawled in front of her. I am on my knees leaning forward into the full-length mirror that is against my wall, fixing up my mascara, the hot weather has made it clump.

“Please Willow, you’ve gotta come with us!” Mabel whines from her throne of pillows. I stare at her in the mirror, she isn’t looking at me. “We’re going to have the best night, and you’re totally gonna miss out, you never come with us.”

What Mabel is referring to is clubbing. I hardly ever accompany my friends, I’ve never been fond of going out to clubs and tonight, they have me in their claws and they have been buzzing like harpies all afternoon about Starline.

I haven’t replied to Mabel, I’ve been too wrapped up in my thoughts, she’s now looking at me in the mirror from the bed. I look up at her in the mirror, returning her gaze. “Willow,” she snaps, entitlement resonating from her voice, “did you hear me?” “Yeah.” I say in response. “Well? Are you coming or not?” The faces around the room turn to look at me, I can feel their eyes burning into my neck.

I brace myself for impact.

“Yes.”

My bedroom erupts in cheer, Mabel and the girls whoop and holler. History has been made tonight – Willow is going clubbing.

BOY

It’s a Saturday night in Summer. The air is stuffy with heat and even though it’s 8pm, the sky is still light. From my place in line outside of Starline, I can see clouds lazily roll over the sky. Bryn and I have lined up outside of the club, we await entry in a sea of heads, the front door ever so slowly coming closer.

I shift a little awkwardly in my skirt, I’ve gotten a few stares so far, and the afternoon air feels a little too stifling on my knees. Bryn turns and touches my shoulder to reassure me, giving me a large, crooked grin.

Eventually, the line has funneled through the front doors, and we draw closer to entry. I shuffle forward every few minutes, the rubber of my boots scuffing against the stained concrete of the street.

Bryn and I finally approach the front doors of Starline. A security guard stands out the front, his black shirt taunt over his chest and muscular, tattooed arms. He beckons us forward, “Have you checked in?” He asks, before instructing us to check into the building, the muscle memory of scanning QR codes all too familiar following the pandemic.

Once the security guard sees our green ticks and certificates, he asks, “can I see some ID?” I reach into my jacket and his eyes follow the direction of my hand, then I watch his gaze drop even further – down to my legs. I pause with my hand gripping my wallet in the pocket of my leather jacket, his stare gripping me. His face is blank initially, until he breaks out into laughter - his face contorting to accompany his guffawing. I feel my face instantly flush, my discomfort growing apparent. He looks back up to my face. “What happened to you? Did you lose a bet or something?” I grimace and advert my eyes from the guard. Bryn grasps my back and urges me through the club doors once we’re all clear for ID and QR codes.

“Don’t worry about him, we’re not here for him.” Bryn reassures me leaning in to speak in my ear, his voice barely audible over the distant rumbling of music. Eventually he is drowned out as we walk further into the belly of Starline.

Some of our friends are meeting us tonight, I feel a little safer knowing I’ll have my pack with me.

I can feel the bass swelling in my temples, the treble embedding itself into my throat and chest, like a crushing weight. Hordes of drunk people amalgamate on the dance floor, thrashing and churning like one massive, incomprehensible organism. Hands and fingers splayed in the air, heads bobbing up from the sea to catch a breath and then back down again, under the surface. Drowning in the stench of sweat and beer.

The dancefloor is like some plane of hell, and it makes my stomach churn thinking about being lost in there, like an underwater explorer lost to the bowels of the ocean.

Bryn rips me from my thoughts as he tugs at my arm. “Eden!” He shouts, trying to overcome the incessant doof doof doof of the music. “Armelle and Carmine are out the back in the smoker’s area, let’s get out of here!”

Sweet release - we escape the belly of the beast and emerge outside in a small smoker’s area. The ground is paved with concrete tiles and pot plants adorn the walls. Murals and text have been painted along the walls as well. There are some of those big outdoor heaters and a few tables and stools underneath them. It is instantly more comfortable and inviting, even though it stinks of ash. It is still warm outside, the sky only just beginning to darken.

Over in the far-right corner our friends, Armelle and Carmine sit with a large jug of alcohol on the table with cigarettes in their hands, smoke delicately billowing out from their mouths. Bryn and I approach and sit down on the high stools. “Hey Eden, how are you?” Carmine asks me. Carmine is gentle-looking, he has ash blonde hair and wide, brown eyes. “I’m okay, it’s so much quieter out here.” Carmine smiles and nods, “definitely.”

GIRL

We’ve been having pre-drinks in my kitchen for the last hour.

We’re all done up nice and pretty in preparation for the many eyes who will lay upon us each tonight. I’m wearing a skirt that is tight in the waist and cropped above my knees. I feel a little uncomfortable and keep tugging the skirt down every few minutes back over my knees.

I’m leaning over the kitchen counter with a Smirnoff Double Black in my hand, the other girls and Mabel are scattered around the room. We’re chatting and it’s actually pretty nice. Mabel’s talking fairly loudly, and I tune into what she’s saying – “Jet. That’s who I’m taking home tonight.” Some of the girls laugh and cheer Mabel on. I frown a little and take another sip of my vodka and lemonade.

In the next hour we’ve walked into town and to Starline. Thankfully the line isn’t too long and we’re in shortly. It’s about 10pm now and I stumble through the doorway, the alcohol finding it’s way to my bloodstream. I feel pretty good, the alcohol has dampened my sensitivity to the music and the girls are smiling and laughing. We make our way immediately to the bar for a round of Wet Pussy shots. We line up and Mabel pays for the shots. Shots are lined up and placed on the bar surface in front of each of us, we count down, lift our glasses, and throw back our heads. Mabel cheers and slams her glass down, I cough and sputter, amazed at how badly alcohol can burn.

Our group eventually finds their way to a table. We plop down and begin chatting again. Very quickly, the conversation finds itself involving me. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never been kissed, never had sex. My friends have taken it upon themselves and made it their life goal to get a penis inside of me.

Mabel chirps up. “Okay girls, tonight is the night - Willow.” She pauses and looks at me. “Tonight, you’re losing that virginity.” I shuffle a little in my seat and laugh awkwardly. “Don’t be silly Mabel.” I say, desperate to not speak of this. “Willow! Come on! Don’t be such a prude!” The girls around the table cheer in agreement. “Yeah Willow, you’re so boring!” One of them shouts. “Don’t be so modest!” Another says. I shrug. “I don’t know girls, I don’t really think I’m ready-“ Mabel interrupts me. “Of course you are, you look so fuckable tonight! So many of the guys here are going to be hungry for you.” I laugh again and look for an exit. “Um- I’m just going to go to the toilet.” I abruptly stand up and scrape my chair against the wooden floor. Once on my feet, I stumble toward the toilet. My legs feel like jelly and my vision whirls. I lean into the toilet door once I get to it and push it open.

A small gathering of girls are in the middle of the bathroom, one girl is in hysterics and is sobbing uncontrollably. I sober up and watch her being comforted by the other women in here. They’re patting her back and telling her that she’s going to be okay. I shuffle behind the consoling women into a stall and stare at the wall in front of me while I pee. I wonder what happened?

When I’m finished, I stand up, turn around and flush the toilet. I can hear the music penetrating the walls of the small bathroom. I walk back out of the stall and turn to one of the women comforting the crying one. “Is she okay?” I ask. The woman looks at me. “Yeah, just having a bad night, we’ve called her a taxi and we’re waiting for them to get here and take her home.” The crying woman is younger, she has tight coils of red hair and is leaning over the sink as she’s being soothed. “Do you know her?” I ask, still looking at her. The other woman shakes her head. “No, but this is what us girls do, we stick by each other’s side.” I nod, taken aback by this stranger’s kindness.

I stagger out of the toilets and make my way to the bar. I push through a labyrinth of bodies, feeling uncomfortable in this alien territory. I can feel the heat radiating from their chests and foreheads, sweat slick in the light of the disco lights. I keep shimmying through the crowd. As I pass through the crowd of people, a younger guy moving down the other side catches my attention, he has black hair and a moustache and looks wickedly intoxicated. He sets his eyes on me and we hold contact. I’m shimmying up closer to him, and eventually we meet in the sea of people. My throat catches and my stomach churns as he brushes against me. In our brief passing, he presses his stomach and hips against me hard, it grinds against my stomach. I suck in a breath and scoot quicker out of the grip of the moustache man. Finally, I break free of the hoard, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m horrified by my interaction with the moustache man and feel sick to my stomach. I stumble up the bar and grip onto the wooden ledges of its surface. Just when I think I’m safe, a hand glides into the small of my back.

“I love your skirt. Let me buy you a drink.”

BOY

Carmine has taken me up to the bar.

Shelves of bottles line the walls behind the bar. It’s an array of rainbow glass – blue, red, white, green. Paintings are hung up in and around the bar and a taxidermy peacock is displayed in a glass case on a high up shelf above the bar. I’m watching Carmine order a jug of toxic green liquid. He places his card on top of the Eftpos machine, and my eye drifts to the space behind him – on the other end of the bar – a man is standing behind a younger girl, his hand on the small of her back. I can’t help but stare and feel off. Carmine grasps my attention as the Eftpos machine beeps and he whips around with a fresh jug of god-knows-what.

The alcohol in my stomach feels warm and has reduced my motor skills to a third of what they used to be. Carmine and I are walking side by side toward Bryn and Armelle. As we’re walking toward the doorway, a group of guys start laughing to our left.

I turn and give them a look until I notice they’re staring at my bare legs. I’d mostly forgotten about the skirt and had gradually started to feel more comfortable in it after the incident with the security guard. Yet, this gaggle of barely grown men is enough to shift me back to a place of dread and anxiety.

Carmine looks at me and soothes my back with his free hand. “It’s okay Eden.” He reassures. But it isn’t – because one of the men are moving our way, and he’s pointing, and he’s talking. “Fucking faggots.” He spits. Carmine retreats his hand and looks toward the man with shock. The man is a few years older than us; he has a gold mullet and a patchy beard. He is wearing a cap and torn jeans and he is approaching us. He comes up to me and presses his index finger into my chest, he looks to Carmine. “Jesus fella, that’s one ugly girlfriend you have there.” He looks at my outfit with contempt. “Why the fuck are you even wearing that? You’re not a real man.” He shoves me this time. Carmine steps in front of me, the green drink spilling over the top of his jug. “Fuck off.” Carmine says defensively. “He feels comfortable wearing whatever he wants to wear. Why do you even care?”

The man takes a step forward. “Because weirdo fucks like you are a sore sight.” He shoots out an arm and slaps the jug out of Carmine’s hand. It goes flying and splashes onto my skirt. The man turns to walk to his friends. I’m shaking, my skirt is dripping with sticky alcohol, and I can feel the walls crushing in on me.

Carmine grabs my arm and steers me back outside to the smoker’s area.

GIRL

The Expresso Martini I’m drinking tastes bitter and sour. I’m only drinking it to be polite. Moustache man has a name – Ryan – and he has bought me a drink. Clearly after our very brief encounter I have interested him and now he expects something from me. I’ve been robbed of any sense of safety, and I feel trapped.

Ryan drinks his own Expresso Martini next to me. “So, where’s the skirt from? It looks very nice on you.” I shrug and avoid looking him in the eye. “Can’t remember.” I murmur. He places a hand on my forearm and brushes his finger over and over the same little patch of skin.

My skin crawls under his touch.

He tries to make conversation but I’m stubborn and keep my replies very simple. I hate that I feel powerless, that he has me cornered and doesn’t even seem to realize how uninterested I am in sitting with him. I guess Mabel might get her wish, I may well and truly lose my virginity tonight, even if it is against my will.

Soon I grow sick of hearing Ryan tell me about his life. I use the same trick from before and excuse myself to go to the toilet. Practically leaping out of my seat, I shimmy, and stumble and stagger to the toilets. As soon as I pass through the doors and stand on the grimy tiles of Starline’s bathroom. I feel instantly safer. There are small gatherings of girls leaning on the basin talking to each other in quiet voices. I turn and enter one of the stalls and sit with my head in my hands.

“Are you okay?” Asks a voice outside of the stall. I look up, I forgot to close the stall door.

I pat down my skirt, pulling it over my knees. “Yeah- yeah, I’m just sitting.” The girl who the voice belongs to is stunning. She was bright red dyed hair that is cut above her shoulders and a septum piercing. She is wearing white jeans and a large denim jacket, with a little crop top on underneath. “Mind if I come in?” She asks politely. I nod. She plops herself on the floor near the toilet and closes the stall door shut. She looks up at me, her blue eyes glinting in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. “So,” she starts. “What’s your name?” “Willow.” “Pretty, my name is Scarlet, but everyone just calls me Strawberry.” “That’s a bit odd.” I say, she shrugs. “Well, I like it and its who I am. I mean come on; doesn’t my head just look like a strawberry?” I smile and nod in agreement. “So Willow,” the way she speaks my name sparks something inside of me. “What brings you to this stall?” I groan and place my face in my hands. “I’m escaping this creepy guy.” I explain, “he bought me a drink and now I’m stuck with him, I can’t help but feel like I owe him something.” Strawberry scoffs. “Honey, you don’t owe him anything.” “I know but it feels that way- like- like he’s expecting something.” Strawberry puts her hand on my knee. “You owe him nothing” she says slowly. “Mm.” I say, contemplating. “Well to make matters worse, the girls I came with here tonight have disappeared and seemed to of only wanted to bring me so I could lose my virginity, even though I’ve told them I’m not ready yet.” Strawberry frowns. “They don’t sound like friends to me.” I groan. “I don’t know, I haven’t had a very good night.” Strawberry pats my knee. “Neither have I.” She pauses and flashes a mischievous smile. “You wanna get out of here with me?” My heart leaps – an escape from this hellhole. “Yes” I say, I have no idea what I’m signing up for, but I say yes, a hundred times, over and over.

Yes.

BOY

I feel sick.

I’m spinning, the room contorts, and the smoker’s area is no longer an area but just an indescribable array of colours and shapes.

Tonight has been awful. I have gotten countless stares and comments on my skirt. I feel like hiding, I regret ever putting on this stupid skirt. Byrn made me feel confident, he made feel like I was doing a brave and powerful thing. But now, well now I know what the world really thinks of boys in skirts.

I sit at the stool at the smoker’s area with my friends. Bryn announces that we’re leaving soon, it’s nearing midnight.

I crawl off my stool and walk toward the bar for a final drink. It’s an effort to get myself there, I’m incredibly drunk and my depth perception is non-existent. I can feel the eyes swarming to my naked knees. My anger fuels me and I propel myself forward. I basically crash into the bar and ask for a whiskey and coke. As the guy behind the bar pours my drink, a girl approaches me from behind. I turn around, she has long strawberry blonde hair and is standing next to a girl with bright red hair, they’re holding hands. She smiles a little awkwardly and speaks. “I really like your outfit, you look beautiful.”

I feel like I could fall over, her words knock me backwards and I stare in awe. “Thank you.” I reply. She nods and turns away toward the exit. The red hair girl gives me small punch on the shoulder, “if this is who you are, own it.” And she’s gone.

They’re both gone.

I leave my whiskey behind and find Bryn.

“Let’s get out of here, this place is an embarrassment.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Bryn says.