I Spent A Day As Daenerys Targaryen Because I'm So Damn Excited For 'GoT'
People were staring.
I wasn't sure if it was the long, platinum wig, the fact that my boobs were dangerously close to making their grand entrance or if passerby were just like, "Oh sh*t, it's that 'Game of Thrones' girl!"
Unfortunately, it wasn't the last option. Some little girl from my building pointed at me and whispered, “Look, it's Elsa!"
For those who don't watch "Game of Thrones," Daenerys Targaryen, AKA the Mother of Dragons, is one of the show's female protagonists. Whether amassing her own army, "birthing" her baby dragons or taking over most of Essos, she is truly the fiercest woman on the show.
I decided to become Daenerys for a couple of reasons. The most important: She's hands-down one of the most badass women in fiction, the Beyoncé of the Seven Kingdoms.
Also, "Game of Thrones" is coming back this Sunday (April 24) and I've literally spent the past year reading spoilers and praying to a shrine of Jon Snow's beautiful face he's still alive.
As expected, it got weird.
I dressed up as the Breaker of Chains on a workday, which meant I had to commute, get to the office and go to happy hour wearing my getup. It was important for me to appear authentic but not costume-y, so I wore a lightweight, blue BB Dakota maxi dress that made my ass look glorious. I think Khaleesi would approve. I purchased a long, blonde wig at a local shop, and DIY-ed her makeup, which consisted of bold brows, neutral shadows and a healthy flush.
I also tried to get my dog into a dragon outfit, but she wasn't having it.
As I walked though the park that morning, I realized everyone -- literally, everyone -- was gawking.
I'm not sure what the most jarring part was — my wig, my boobs, the fact that I was talking to pigeons as if they were dragons — but people stopped dead in their tracks and unapologetically gawked.
Miraculously, no one approached me. If that's not a testament to just how jaded New Yorkers are, I don't know what is.
People did, however, pause to take pictures. I was standing on a rock by the Flatiron building, trying to look majestic . Then, a couple of guys on a film set across the street raised their phones in my direction, presumably to Snapchat my ridiculous look in-between takes. I waved. They didn't wave back. Assh*les.
Once I got back to the office, I expected people to ask me questions. Only a small handful of people knew I was doing this for a story, so I was ready for the awkward stares and questions.
To my surprise, not one person looked up from his or her computer when I walked in. Do I really work in an office so liberal someone dressed up like Khaleesi elicits zero response? Even my local Starbucks baristas dared to recognize me. They asked me if I wanted my “usual,” the bastards.
Only three people commented on my weird getup. One was another writer, who cornered me in said Starbucks to compliment my wig. A couple of others apologized, but said they “needed to know” why I was doing this. I told them, they looked at me like I lost my marbles. Er, dragons.
After work, my friend and I hit up a nearby happy hour for a much-needed drink. I wasn't sure what the Mother of Dragons would order. Wine? The blood of my enemies? I went for my usual Hendrick's and tonic.
Surprisingly, save for one creepy married dude, no one approached me. A couple of people stared as we walked in, but as the only women in the bar at the time, that was to be expected.
Heading home led to a pool of mixed emotions. At first, I'd felt uncomfortable wearing a platinum wig and a dress that made my boobs say "hey, wassup, hello" to the world. Then, I realized I was really afraid of being the center of attention.
About a year and a half ago, my hair was long and platinum. At the time, I loved the attention that came with it. I woke up feeling sexy. Now, my hair is a short, chin-length bob and a demure mouse brown.
Wearing that revealing dress and blonde wig made me feel sexy and powerful, if a little silly. Going home, I wasn't as excited to take the wig and dress off as I thought I would be. I almost felt mournful as I slid off the blonde braids and placed them in a netted bag. I wanted to continue being The Mother of Dragons. Now, I was just the mother of my dog Chloe and cat Chooch.
One thing I learned: Daenerys doesn't take no for an answer and demands respect from everyone, even if she's not in a position of power. She goes after her dreams, no matter how many times she's told they're ridiculous. She's one of the few women in fiction (and one of the only women in television, for that matter) that elicits fear, respect, power and sympathy.
While I might not rock the entire look together next time, I definitely have plans for that blonde wig during a night out clubbing. Khaleesi would approve.