I spent last Friday going about the mostly normal activities of my daily life dressed as an implausible -- but not utterly unrecognizable -- facsimile of rock legend Freddie Mercury. The purpose of this adventure was, like a walk-a-thon, to raise money for an AIDS charity, the Mercury Phoenix Trust, in conjunction with Mercury’s birthday. It was urged upon me by one of my sponsors to write down my experience so that the important knowledge I gained from this event should not perish. To wit, I offer the following three insights from my endeavor:

 

1)      Many people appear to find the sight of a woman with a large moustache highly unusual.

 

2)        Some people’s reaction is to want to have their photograph – or that of their small child – taken with said woman.

 

3)      Some people don’t know who Freddie Mercury was!!

 

As I moved about my day, people often did a double, or even triple take as I walked by which looked exactly the way you see it in movies: they looked at me, glanced away, shook their head slightly, looked again, then whipped their head back around one more time, eyes opened widely before turning away firmly with a fixed stare and walking briskly away.

 

Only a few people looked right at me and some of those smiled when they caught my eye, as if we were sharing a joke. More people, however, did not look back again, and even seemed to try to avoid me. Men with moustaches fell most frequently into these two groups – either they were in on the joke with me or they were not even going to give me a second look. 

 

Then again, perhaps that is not really a fair conclusion. Like Schrodinger’s cat, the observer may have changed the result of the experiment, because throughout the day I found myself noticing men with moustaches and frequently directing my gaze at them. This is kind of like the red car phenomenon: buy a red car and suddenly you notice how many red cars there are on the road.

 

And really, there were quite a few of them! Who knew there were so many whiskered men lurking around the edges of our daily lives? Were all these mustachios there all along and I just never noticed? (Or were they perhaps other Freddie impersonators but in more subtle attire – Freddie as sidewalk repairman, Freddie as security guard, Freddie as man in the pharmacy picking up his wife’s prescriptions…)

 

Finally, I guess I have to admit that the largest group of people registered no reaction to me whatsoever. I don’t know whether this is a sign of wide-spread vision impairment, monstrous self-absorption or utter indifference but I conclude that most people either didn’t see the woman with a moustache in their midst or they simply cared more about their own thoughts, lives, blood tests, or lunches than about whatever it was I was doing. I found that a little surprising (but then again, even when I am not wearing a moustache I am surprised that people aren’t more interested in me than they generally seem to be.)

 

In any case, I can say with confidence no one asked me about what I was doing. That may not be surprising with strangers, but you would think at the meetings I went to someone might have asked me something…. but you would be wrong. In fact, no one openly acknowledged that I was doing anything at all except the homeless guy on Telegraph who ordered me to turn around and look at him and then said “Hey, that’s really good!”

 

Again, however, my part in the story affects this conclusion because whenever I needed to interact with someone (such as registering for my blood work or buying coffee) I didn’t let them sit there for too long without rapidly volunteering something. I offer as my excuse for this that someone was usually with me with a camera. More honestly, though, I think I moved quickly to explain because I felt uncomfortable with somehow unfairly doing this to them…. What’s that about?? After all, other people frequently dress in ways that make me uncomfortable and offer me no explanation at all.

 

Anyway, I did try to explain. These conversations went one of two ways: I approach desk/counter and state my business: for example, I am here for a blood test. Person looks at me, does a double take, hands me paper without looking up again, shifting a little uncomfortably and/or looking to a colleague for help. At this point I say “Have you heard of Freddie Mercury.” If no (No??) then I say “Have you heard of the band Queen?” Also no (NO???) Then I mumble something about dressing up to raise money, Mercury pretty famous (trying not to imply that they are a Total Cultural Illiterate), died of AIDS, looked sort of like this …. I am mumbling by now. Person says something like “Oh.” And then “Take a seat.”

 

Or, the conversation goes this way: “Have you heard of Freddie Mercury?” “Of course!!!” Me, smiling triumphantly: “It’s his birthday!” Person: “Oh yeah? Right on.” Me: “I am doing this to raise money for the charity that works in his name.” Person: “Uh huh. Great… Hey, can I take your picture?” Whips out cell phone.

 

No one, however, who didn’t already know me offered me a donation or even a free frickin’ cup of coffee! I mean, OK, you say you like Freddie Mercury and you want your picture taken with me and all but your still gonna charge me $3.25 for a small latte? How serious a fan can you be, really?

 

Most interesting stranger reaction: woman with toddler smiles brightly at me in the halls at the clinic and says to her infant son “Look, honey, a policeman.” Son peers suspiciously at me from his stroller. Me to woman: “Uh, actually I am dressed as Freddie Mercury. Do you know who he was?” She: “Yes.”(Her expression clearly says No.) “Do you want to take a picture with my son?” Me: I don’t know. Does he know who Freddie Mercury was?? (Just kidding.) Me: “Of course!” Crouch down with child and tell him how important it is that he grows up knowing who Freddie Mercury is while my friend snaps picture.

 

But the best part was the people I know. I went to two work-related meetings during the day. At the first, as I walked toward the meeting room the other early arrivals sort of clumped together against a wall like a flock of lost turkeys. Then I said hello -- visible relief. One of them smiles and says “I thought it was you…” which is the closest thing anyone who knows me will say all day that indicates I do not look perfectly normal. I explain that I am dressed up for a reason which I’ll explain when the meeting begins.

 

While we are waiting to get into the room another colleague walks by. I say hi and she looks at me and says “Oh, Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Then she peers at me and says “Um… I haven’t seen you in a long time.” I say I am here for a meeting and then, pointing to myself, smile and say “mumble mumble….Freddie Mercury’s birthday.” She recovers herself and says “Oh, I know.” I say “You do??” She says yes, she’d already heard about it. I don’t believe her for a second, BUT she gives me $10.

 

The meeting starts and I explain what I am doing. Half the people in the room do not know who Freddie Mercury was (!!!!) I tell them about the boy born Farrokh Bulsara in Zanzibar, Zanzibar who later moved to England and became The Greatest Rock Singer/Composer/Keyboard Player and Performer EVER… until I realize my client isn’t actually paying me to lecture these nice (though woefully ignorant) case managers on this important, but not directly relevant, part of history.

 

One of the folks walks in late, does the double take thing, sits down at the other end of the room and looks around at her colleagues like “what is going on??” I say her name. She jumps and stares and then bursts out laughing. She then confesses that she hadn’t recognized me and thought I must be the guest speaker. She was apparently having a long conversation with herself in her head that went something like “Who is that weird person? It’s a woman… I think. Uh, don’t judge, don’t judge… why is he/she looking at me… OK, this is fine, no one else seems freaked out… smile…” etc.

 

Second meeting, similar story, but this time the person who came in late simply sat down and joined in the conversation. I was impressed with his composure and complete lack of affect. Found out later that he had been passing notes to a colleague during the meeting –“Why is Katharine wearing a moustache?” Response: “She is raising money by dressing as Freddie Mercury.” “What???” Whatever written explanations were proffered must have been convincing – after the meeting he told me he would like to sponsor me.

Made a quick change to a red-and-white outfit and met up with my co-conspirator, also a leather-clad moustached lady, at the White Horse bar. Our entrance received effusive support from the bartender who said she loved Queen and Freddie (but no free drinks! Some fan…) and we had a nice reunion with another old friend not dressed as Freddie but outdoing us in the facial hair category through naturally-occurring growth. (Why does everything have to be so much easier for men??) Freddie-Woman Two emailed me later that night that it had dawned on her after she bought our drinks that a very friendly woman at the bar was actually trying to pick her up. Who knew that a fake moustache could be such a lure? Single lesbians take note…

 

Final event of the night- I went out to a late dinner with my husband Jack at T-Rex. And here I learned the fourth, and perhaps most important lesson of the day:

 

4)      Do not order spare ribs when wearing a big moustache.

 

I had hoped to reuse this special prop for future Freddie- related escapades (should the need arrive, I mean… be prepared, right?) but first I have to get the barbecue sauce and smell out of the ‘stache. Anyone know whether a moustache can be dry-cleaned?