Hanes boys undershirts The white undershirt has a classic, American robustness, but it's also a great mixed message, clean and dirty at once, straddling the line between the solid trustworthiness of Daddy and the outlaw potential of James Dean. They're also essentially lingerie. These, with their substantial cotton, slim fit and shorter-than-usual sleeves that hit high on the bicep, are perfect. Bend over and they will show your back muscles.
	Vintage Izod Lacoste or new Fred Perry shirts Both these shirts have great un-macho masculinity. They're a a bit prep school, a bit JFK (and we all know what a naughty fuck he was, beneath that good breeding business). Leather lost its bad-boy cachet long ago — you may as well hang it up and go the other direction. All the righteous mods and anti-racist (Okay, and racist) skinheads wear Fred Perrys. You might want to dye your hair blue to avoid being mistaken for a tennis pro.
	A handkerchief Though you may very well end up using it yourself, the best reason to carry a thing that many people find repugnant is that you will be able to offer it (if it is clean) to someone else. My father always carried a plain white handkerchief, which he many times offered to me when, as a small child, I was in tears (as small children often are). Crying is a messy business and it's nice knowing that if you find yourself covered in saltwater and mucus, someone is going to be ready for it, and out of the pocket will come that friendly square, soft and imbued with the comforting scent of Tide and perhaps tobacco. Recently I was at the movies with a girl who had a sneezing fit and asked me for a tissue. I handed her my handkerchief. "You have a handkerchief?!" she whispered to me. After giving her nose a good honk, she moved over in her seat, leaned her head on my shoulder and allowed me to watch the rest of the movie with my hand between her bare thighs, thanks to one of her best items of clothing, a slit skirt.
	A western-style belt buckle I have a Peterbilt buckle I snapped up at the Maine Blueberry Festival one year, and I've never looked back. Why do dykes of all stripes love these? Because they're associated with two icons of manly American style who are sexy, powerful and just this side of caricature: the cowboy and the rock 'n roll star. Straight guys are often very, well, straight about their clothing and loath to wear anything goofy or playful. But what do lesbians care — we're already gay!
	Shirts from APC Merci Dieu for this French boutique in New York's SoHo (and online! — at www.apc.fr). The women's dress shirts I've bought — one stretchy white cotton, two dark wool blends — are identical to the men's, sharing the same soft fabrics and simple close-to-the-body cuts. Many lesbians find it offensive to be mistaken for a man. I find that more often or not it has its advantages. If, say, you are in the parking lot of a suburban mall and you want to make out with your girlfriend, it's very nice to be mistaken for a boy. It's certainly preferable to being bashed over the head.
	Wrangler jeans While visiting a working ranch astride the border of central California and Wyoming, I helped herd some cattle and became convinced that the cowboy's choice of jean should also be mine. Cut for riding, Wranglers sit higher on your waist and are more butt-accentuating than Levi's. I knew that I had made the right choice when, at my office Christmas party, a fag colleague of mine, sodden with Absolut, told me my Wrangler-clad ass was giving him all sorts of new feelings.
	Trousers from Banana Republic Banana Republic wants men to look a little sexy, and this is good news for butch dykes who don't need to go around in baggy-assed pants. Not only does BR go down to a size 28 waist (with that two percent of Lycra which somehow makes all the difference in the world), but where I shop they have hilariously manly coffee-table books on architecture and photography on a little table in the men's dressing room vestibule. Who else do they expect to be waiting there but gay boyfriends?
	Surf trunks The first time I had sex with a girl I could not believe my luck. It was as if I were living some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fantasy of over-the-top abundance that vastly exceeded any fantasy I might have allowed myself. I still feel that way when I get to kiss a girl and do exactly as I please. I feel lucky. I feel similarly about surf shorts. Just as I never imagined I'd get to have sex with girls, I never thought I'd be able to recapture the feeling of freedom I experienced as a small child when I was allowed to run around shirtless. (Surf shorts are also about one thousand times more comfortable on me than the horrid, clingy things girls have to squeeze themselves into.) I never thought I would spend summer days frolicking in the gay section of Jones Beach on Long Island (and wherever else I can) wearing only board shorts and a smile. Diving through waves, feeling the hot sun across my torso as I lie on the sand, I couldn't have imagined I'd get to live what I'd forgotten I'd dreamed.