my en femme encounters with Bond, James Bond

Seems like James Bond is everywhere these days. A new Bond film came out recently, there are Bond movie marathons on the tube, and the new issue of Mad Classics has a retrospective of Mad magazine parodies of the old Bond flicks.

The Mad retrospective caused me to recall some things trans-related to James Bond that influenced me when I was a newbie femulator.

I can never forget the opening sequence of Thunderball, which had the bad guy disguised as his wife purportedly attending his own funeral.

The femulation was in two consecutive scenes. In the first scene, I am sure that the bad guy en femme was actually played by a woman because you can catch a glimpse of an attractive blonde under the thin veil covering her face, but in the second scene, the veil has suddenly became thicker and you cannot see the features of the grieving "widow" as she fights Bond and is revealed as male. Despite the obvious (to me), I always fantasized that the leggy blonde in the first scene was the bad guy en femme.

[Update: According to IMDB, an actress named Rose Alba is playing the role initially and a stuntman named Bob Simmons plays the "widow" during the fight.]

Another trans-related Bond memory actually appeared in a Mad musical parody of the Sean Connery Bond films (Mad #94, April 1965).

In the beginning of the parody (click on image above to magnify it), a bevy of scantily clad female admirers surround Bond, while another female stands to the side admiring Bond's revolver. Bond asks why the she is admiring his revolver and not him.

The female reveals that "she" is actually agent 008 in training and that his girdle is killing him. The secret agent in training was not very attractive, but he was wearing a wig, dress, and a girdle and that definitely was of interest to me.

Finally, I recall another comic book parody loosely based on the Bond films. The spy in this parody was gay and named Jamie. He goes to a hair salon for some work unaware that the salon is run by the enemy.

While under the hair dryer, the hair stylist puts him under a spell that reveals his sub-conscious feelings that he really wants to be a woman. He then undergoes a makeover and soon appears seated in the hair salon chair dressed as a pretty leggy blonde in a short dress and high heels with the other hair stylists gushing over him about how fabulous "she" looks.

When Jamie returns to spy headquarters en femme, his superior is aghast, but he has a cure, i.e., a sexual encounter with a female. Sure enough, the cure works and soon the now macho Jamie confronts the brains behind the enemy operation that transformed him into a woman: his mother.

As you can imagine, I read that comic book over and over again and wished I could be so lucky as to walk into the enemy's hair salon.

By the way, this story appeared in a one-shot comic book in the mid- to late-1960s. I lost the book in a purge a long time ago. I have no idea who published it or what was the name of the comic book, but I do recall that the book contained two stories and they appeared throughout the book with one story appearing on the top half of each page, while the other story appeared on the bottom half of each page.

If anyone can provide any other information about this comic book I would greatly appreciate it, so that I can track down a copy to add to my collection.)

 

 

 

Kuranosuke cosplay by Feeracie.

 

 

 

Wearing DailyLook.

What’s “feminine” anyway?

I am on vacation this week, so instead of new original content each day, I will post old original content, also known as "The Best of Femulate."

Man Carrying Purse

Whenever I recount my trans biography (like at outreach), I usually mention that as a youngster, I participated in sports (baseball and football) and played "boy games" (cowboys, war, spacemen, etc.). I felt that I was a typical boy and I enjoyed doing "boy things," unlike many of my trans sisters, who as children, hated "boy things" and preferred "girl things."

I also mention in my bio that despite my participation and enjoyment of those boy things, other boys called me names like "sissy," "fairy," "faggot," etc., which indicated to me that I was not necessarily all the boy I thought I was.

This was not just a case of bullies using random offensive names to raise my ire. Even a few of my friends told me that I was not acting like a boy at a 100% level and that I should do something about it.

I wondered if there was something in my mannerisms or speech that caused their reaction? I was not intentionally acting or speaking in an affected manner. Rather, I was speaking and acting in my natural manner, which I did not feel was feminine.

The fact that even friends told me that something was amiss indicated that something really was amiss, but I was clueless. I had no idea what I had to do differently to be more boy-like. So, I continued acting the same way I always acted and if someone called me a name, I hit them with my purse.

Even in high school, college, and law school, I occasionally ran into guys, who commented on my particular flavor of masculinity, but I just shrugged them off and kept on truckin'. By then, I was crossdressing in secret and only coming out en femme for Halloween including an appearance in drag at a Halloween party in law school.

I will never forget a friend of mine at that party telling me that he never realized how feminine my speaking and mannerisms were until he saw me in drag. He indicated that my female costume was a perfect fit for my normal mannerisms and speech.

After mentioning this story at outreach one time, one of the students said that my mannerisms were feminine and that my friends and acquaintances had been in the ballpark in their estimation of me.

Yet, nothing has changed. I still do not affect a feminine persona. I still act naturally and no differently whether in boy mode or girl mode.

I admit that I do try to walk more like a woman when I am en femme and I talk more softly when I femulate, but most of what you get is the genuine me. And I am not changing a thing.

 

 

 

Femulating contestant performing during the talent competition at the Covington County (Mississippi) Hospital womanless beauty pageant, 2012.

 

 

 

Wearing Lover (dress) and Rebecca Minkoff (bag).

Why would anyone want to be a woman?

I am on vacation this week, so instead of new original content each day, I will post old original content, also known as "The Best of Femulate."

Reading "Why I Decided To Become A Woman" yesterday reminded me of an encounter I had with an old friend last May at the Dayton Hamvention.

At Dayton, I sought out old ham radio friends and acquaintances in order to come out to them.

One friend, who I had known for over 30 years was pleased to see me once he recognized me en femme.

He listened attentively to my story. Then he asked some questions, which I answered.

Finally he said to me, "Why would anyone want to be a woman?"

My jaw dropped. I felt like everything I had said to him had gone in one ear and out the other.

It was not a choice. I didn't decide one day that I needed a change of pace and would become a woman. I didn't decide to become transgender to spice up my life.

Life would be so much easier if I was not transgender... if I was not a woman who found herself in a male body.

Like Joy Ladin wrote, "There’s nothing so bad about being a man... as long as you’re a man.”

I'm certainly not a man. That explains why I feel uncomfortable when en homme, but at ease when en femme. 

And so it goes.

 

 

 

Professional femulator circa 1955 (I love her gown!) 

 

 

 

Wearing Alice and Olivia.

Call Me Sissy

I am on vacation this week, so instead of new original content each day, I will post old original content, also known as "The Best of Femulate."

According to my recollection, the first negative word ever hurled at me was "sissy."

"Sissy" according to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition is "a boy or man regarded as effeminate."

To illuminate that definition, the dictionary defines "effeminate" as "having qualities or characteristics more often associated with women than men; characterized by weakness and excessive refinement."

Yes - that's me. The dictionary could print an image of me next to the printed words to illustrate the definition.

The thing is that the first time I was called a sissy, I had no idea that I was one. All I knew was that I was "me" and I was not intentionally emulating females.

But the name-calling continued. And then there was bullying.

So I figured something was wrong with me and when things really got bad, I eschewed anything feminine.

After things settled down, I went back to my old ways and was myself again comfortably picking and choosing what I liked from the masculine and feminine aisles in that big department store called "Life."

Older and wiser, I eventually ignored the taunting, learned to embrace my self, and became my own man or should I say "woman."

Actually, I am somewhere in between. Circumstances prevent me from being a woman all the time. Some of the time, I am a feminine man and some of the time, I am a feminine woman, so you can call me "sissy;" it's a good fit.

 

 

 

Charlie femulating circa 1910.

 

 

 

Wearing Ryu.

Pejic Comes Out!

This just in; thanks to Patty for passing it along to me from The Huffington Post:

“Super model Andreja Pejic, formally known as Andrej Pejic, has come out as transgender.

“A statement emailed to The Huffington Post by GLAAD notes, Pejic ‘will only be modeling women's clothing going forward and has received support from her agency, friends and family.’"

Read the rest of the story here.

By the way, I love how she feminized her male name by simply adding an “a” to it!

Borrowed

I received this e-mail advertisement yesterday:

Maybe I’ll receive this email advertisement tomorrow:

 

 

 

 

Senior male students at Seattle’s Roosevelt High School femulated for this 1960 show.

Guys in Gowns

Aunty Marlena passed along a link to photos on the Miami Gay Men’s Chorus Facebook page. She found them so extraordinary that it occurred to her that Femulate readers may enjoy them, too! There are hundreds of photos including many quality femulations, so I invite you to poke around the page and enjoy the view! The link to the photos is here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Actor Dwight Ewell femulating in the 2002 film The Guru.

A Trans Sister in Arms

As I wrote here a few days ago, we had a couple of transgender visitors to our booth at the ham radio convention on Friday.

"The second was a transwoman en femme. I assume she was post-op, but you never know. She gave no indication that she read my blog, so she didn’t know me from Adam (or Eve). She just happened by our booth and engaged me in a long discussion about what our group had to offer."

Of course, I made note of her name and call sign as displayed on the convention badge she was wearing. The badge had a female first name.

Curious, I later checked her out on the Internet. The FCC database had her license under a male first name. Most of the other references on the Internet referred to her using her male first name, while a few references used her female first name.

(Sounds like someone I know!)

If I had known that when I talked with her, I might have broached the subject of gender. Maybe I will encounter her at a future ham radio event and bring up the subject then especially if I am also en femme.

 

 

 

 

 

A contestant at a 2009 Relay for Life womanless beauty pageant.

Gender Surprises at the Convention

Although I was unable to attend last weekend's ham convention en femme, it was transgender enlightening nonetheless.

There were quite  a number of people in attendance who knew me before I came out as trans and began attending ham radio events en femme, that is, they have known me in boy mode and girl mode.

There were also a few people in attendance who only know me in girl mode.

The people who only knew me in girl mode were surprised by my appearance in boy mode. I know because they mentioned it to me and some said they were disappointed that I was not a girl.

On the other hand, the folks who have known me in boy mode and girl mode made no mention of my appearance in boy mode and interacted with me as if nothing was different. I am sure they noticed the difference, but were too polite to inquire about what was going on.
I did explain to a few folks why I was not dressed en femme and they indicated that they understood.

One woman went out of her way when I explained what had happened. I had registered for the convention as "Stana" and expected that I would receive a name badge with Stana printed on it. I brought a black Sharpie with me to make the correction.

Sure enough, when I picked up my badge at the registration desk, it read "Stana." I planned to fix it as soon as I settled down at our booth.

But before I had the opportunity to do so, the woman who checked me in at the registration desk, hunted me down in the crowd and handed me a peel-off label printed with my name and call sign, but with an "S" replacing "Stana." So instead of making an ugly fix with a Sharpie, I neatly covered the miss-print with the new label!

That was very cool!

 

 

 

Wearing Sammydress.

 

 

 

Femulating fellows attending the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion.

Shades of Black

By Paula Gaikowski

I love sharing accounts of time spent en femme. However, this time I want to tell you the story about two different experiences while buying hosiery en homme.

A few months ago my wife and I spent a few days in Reading, Pennsylvania visiting friends and shopping in the outlets there. My wife has become more accepting over the years and I had so much fun buying lingerie at the Vanity Fair outlet. Imagine a room the size of a gymnasium filled with bras, panties, nightgowns, slips, foundations and every other type of lingerie. I literally spent half a day picking out a bunch of stuff and this time didn’t have to hide it from my wife. That was great; however, I also needed socks to wear every day.

I made my way out of Vanity Fair and over to the Gold Toe outlet. Here they sell socks of all types. In my daily male drag, I like to wear women’s trouser socks. I like the thinness of them and I also like a sock the goes up almost to my knee. For that reason, I always buy women’s socks.

So I went into the store and told the older woman that I am looking for a thin sock that is knee high. She directed me to the men’s section where there was a “Gold Toe over the calf style.” These socks were thicker than I like, were ribbed and outrageously priced at $16 a pair.

So this is where it gets interesting and kind of fun.

I thanked her and meandered over to the women’s section and found a huge selection of what I want in all kinds of colors and priced much lower.

She comes over and announces “These are women’s --- men’s are over there.”

In times past I may have become flustered, but I found her gender regulating to be amusing. An impish smile came across my face as I responded.

“I know. These are exactly what I want.”

She lowered her voice as if to save me embarrassment and whispered “But these are for women.”

The tenor and tone of her voice communicated much more; you’re a man, wearing anything feminine would be wrong, even degrading.

My smile and amusement caught her off guard and disarmed what could have been an uncomfortable exchange.

“It’s Okay,” I said while chuckling a bit, “These are the socks I want. The fact that they’re women’s doesn’t bother me.”

Like the church lady on Saturday Night Live she responded with a “Very well then,” and moved on.

She was a sweet lady and was only trying to be helpful and for that reason I wasn’t embarrassed or offended. When I went to check out, she asked if I found everything I needed. I nodded my head, said “Oh yes, perfect, this will be fine.”

Professionally and politely, she completed the sale; however, I suspect she was just a bit disappointed that I was leaving with women’s socks.

I want to contrast that experience with another while buying pantyhose a few weeks ago.

I love Hanes Silk Reflections pantyhose and have worn them for over 20 years. After a weekend camping trip, I was passing the outlet center in Kittery, Maine and decided to make a quick stop to buy pantyhose for my upcoming trip to the UK. The Hanes Bali outlet had just opened and was empty and quiet on a Sunday morning. The sale associate was about 30 years old and dressed in a casual skirt and top.

I flashed my friendliest smile and let loose with a “Good Morning.”

When she asked if she could help me, I replied “Yes, Hanes Silk Reflection Pantyhose.”

Without being the slightest bit phased, she led me down the aisle to the Silk Reflections. I noticed we were at the regular sizes and I needed the plus size.

“Oh!” I blurted out, “I need the plus size.”

She directed me around the corner and with a smile, “Here you go.”

I spent the next few minutes trying to make some decisions; the pantyhose were now $24 for a pack of three and my budget was only going to allow for one pack. I was trying to decide between Jet Black and Barely Black, in addition, I was having trouble finding all the sizes.

I popped my head over the display and asked, “Can you help me? I’m having trouble finding sizes. “

She strolled over. “What’s up?”

“I need 1X; I found it in the nude, but can’t find it in any of the blacks.”

While she rummaged around in the display case she asked, “What color black, Jet or Barely?”

She hopped up and proudly held the two 1X packages in her hands. “Here we are.”

With my index finger held against my pursed lip, I considered my choices.

“I’m not sure what color I need. I don’t want to spend $45 on pantyhose today, so I have to decide on one.”

I noticed she didn’t hesitate when she asked

“What are you going to be wearing with them?”

I replied without thinking,

“Mostly printed skirts with black in them, but I also plan on wearing a black suit one night.”

She held one package up higher and said, “Go with the Barely Black. It works with everything. Jet Black is really for like a formal, black cocktail dresses and such.”

I took the package from her, thanked her profusely, while making our way up to the register. She asked if I needed anything else or had a frequent buyer card. I paid, she thanked me and wished me a nice day. Off I went with my new pantyhose.

Time magazine recently ran article titled “The Transgender Tipping Point,” which highlights the progress made by transgender people all over the world. These two shopping events could not have demonstrated that tipping point more clearly. My dear sweet friend at the Gold Toe outlet was clearly tied to the old paradigm of gender rigidity. However, the clerk at Hanes Bali was clearly comfortable with me buying pantyhose and discussing outfits for my trip as a woman.

The struggle for transgender rights is far from over. I urge us all to remember that each and every one of us is a role model, advocate, and educator. We must be thankful for people who fought and sacrificed before us. You don’t need to be highly visible or carry a sign in the Pride parade. You can do something as simple as supporting a girlfriend with a kind e-mail or standing up against a bigoted transgender remark at work.

Transgender people have always been part of humanity. They are part of the human experience, instead of condemnation, it’s time to open our minds, to begin learning, to begin understanding, then accepting and finally celebrating!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cecil and Avery femulate to attend a womanless wedding, circa 1955.

Murphy's Law in Spades

I planned to rise and shine Thursday morning, get dressed en femme and drive to Hartford to help set up our booth at ham convention. Instead, I woke up to a family health emergency, which took up the better part of the day. I never made it to Hartford in either boy or girl mode that day. Luckily, two fellows from my group set up the booth without me.

I planned to rise and shine Friday morning, get dressed en femme and drive to Hartford to staff the booth during Day One of the convention. Instead, I spent over three hours dealing with the health issue — the hours I would have spent getting dressed en femme. By the time I had dealt with everything, I just had enough time to get dressed in boy mode, drive to Hartford and arrive at the convention just as the hall opened at 9 AM.

 I staffed the booth most of the day, surprised people who were expecting to see Stana, and in general, had a good time, while keeping tabs on the home front via the call phone.

My daughter held down the fort at home on Friday, but could not do so on Saturday. So I stayed at home to hold down the fort on Saturday and did not attend Day Two of the convention. Actually, I was relieved that I did not attend the convention on Saturday because I was so exhausted from the previous two days.

There were two trans visitors to our booth (that I was aware of). One was a regular reader of the blog, who I have met a few times at the Dayton, Ohio, ham convention. He was in boy mode and was surprised to find me also in boy mode, too.

The second was a transwoman en femme. I assume she was post-op, but you never know. She gave no indication that she read my blog, so she didn’t know me from Adam (or Eve). She just happened by our booth and engaged me in a long discussion about what our group had to offer.

And so it goes.

Wearing Dior.

Icelandic womanless beauty pageant (dragkeppni) contestants in 2005.