Patterns

Saturday morning, I stopped by my sister's apartment to drop off her Avon order and found her going through a box of stuff from my mother's apartment. (Mom died years ago, but only recently has my sister begun going through Mom's stuff.)

"Here – this is yours," my sister said to me and handed me a stuffed manilla envelope.

"What is it?" I asked.

I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents: five old dress patterns for styles from the mid- to late-1960s.

"What do you mean these are mine?" I asked.

"Mommy bought them to make dresses for you," she explained.

"Huh!"

"She even made one dress for you – this one," she said, as she pointed to one of the patterns I held in my hands.

"She was going to give it to you as a birthday gift. But then she changed her mind because she didn't want to embarrass you."

(Note that although my sister and I are very close, she does not support me much on the trans front.)

"So, she knew," I replied.

"Dad knew, too, and he talked her out of giving the dress to you."

I always suspected that my parents knew and now my suspicions were confirmed.

"Wow! What happened to the dress?" I asked.

"I have no idea," my sister replied, "Let's change the subject."

I don't know what was the next subject because my mind was still on the dress my mother made for me and how my life might have been different if I had only confided in her.

(Caveat Emptor. This is a rerun of an old Femulate post about an event I had completely forgotten about in my old age.)

Wearing Eloquii

Rob Stone femulating in a 1989 episode of television’s Mr. Belvedere. Watch it here.

Trigger

I received an interesting and thought-provoking e-mail from Beverly commenting on my Sons post.

Regarding the nature versus nurture argument, Beverly falls on the nature side... that our gender gifts are a natural part of our persona and not the result of nurturing by our environment. However, Beverly added that "there has to be a 'trigger' somewhere to bring out whatever it is nature has gifted us with."

I wondered about my trigger. I wrote here that discovering the world of female impersonators moved me to try female impersonation myself at the age of 12. However, I had been exploring my gender gifts years before that, so female impersonation was not necessarily my trigger. But it was so long ago, that I am not actually sure what was my trigger.

Digging way down deep in my memory, I can only recall one event that may have started it all.

I was probably between the ages of 6 and 9 and for a day or two, I wanted to be a circus clown when I grew up. I remember I was home alone with my mother (my father and sister were out) and I covered my face with my mother's cold cream to simulate a clown's white face. What a mess!

I showed my handiwork to my mother and she volunteered to do a better job. She removed the cold cream and started anew applying various cosmetics to my face.

When she was done, I looked in the mirror and was shocked. Instead of looking like a clown, I looked like a girl. I still remember the bright red lipstick on my lips.

In retrospect, I am not sure if she realized what I was trying to do. I do not recall if I was clear about trying to be a clown. She may have thought I was trying to be a girl and acted accordingly.

Anyway, I was so embarrassed that I insisted that she remove the makeup before my father and sister returned home. She complied.

And I no longer wanted to be a circus clown when I grew up. I wanted to be a woman.

Caveat Emptor: This post is an edited rerun from two years ago.

Wearing Atlantic Pacific.

Professional femulators Billy and Ray, The Bigwood Twins.

Pattern

Saturday morning, I stopped by my sister's apartment to drop off her Avon order and found her going through a box of stuff from my mother's apartment. (Mom died years ago, but only recently has my sister begun going through Mom's stuff.)

"Here --- this is yours," my sister said to me and handed me a stuffed manilla envelope.

"What is it?" I asked.

I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents: five old dress patterns for styles from the mid- to late-1960s.

"What do you mean these are mine?" I asked.

"Mommy bought them to make dresses for you," she explained.

"Huh!"

"She even made one dress for you --- this one," she said, as she pointed to one of the patterns I held in my hands.

"She was going to give it to you as a birthday gift. But then she changed her mind because she didn't want to embarrass you."

(Note that although my sister and I are very close, she does not support me much on the trans front.)

"So, she knew," I replied.

"Dad knew, too, and he talked her out of giving the dress to you."

I always suspected that my parents knew and now my suspicions were confirmed.

"Wow! What happened to the dress?" I asked.

"I have no idea," my sister replied, "Let's change the subject."

I don't know what was the next subject because my mind was still on the dress my mother made for me and how my life might have been different if I had only confided in her.

Femulator in street style circa 1964.

Wearing Phillip Lim.

Trigger

I received an interesting and thought-provoking e-mail from Beverly commenting on my Sons post last Friday.

Regarding the nature versus nurture argument, Beverly falls on the nature side... that our gender gifts are a natural part of our persona and not the result of nurturing by our environment. However, Beverly added that "there has to be a 'trigger' somewhere to bring out whatever it is nature has gifted us with."

I wondered about my trigger. On Wednesday, I wrote here that discovering the world of female impersonators moved me to try female impersonation myself at the age of 12. However, I had been exploring my gender gifts years before that, so female impersonation was not necessarily my trigger. But it was so long ago, that I am not actually sure what was my trigger.

Digging way down deep in my memory, I can only recall one event that may have started it all.

I was probably between the ages of 6 and 9 and for a day or two, I wanted to be a circus clown when grew up. I remember I was home alone with my mother (my father and sister were out) and I covered my face with my mother's cold cream to simulate a clown's white face. What a mess!

I showed my handiwork to my mother and she volunteered to do a better job. She removed the cold cream and started anew applying various cosmetics to my face.

When she was done, I looked in the mirror and was shocked. Instead of looking like a clown, I looked like a girl. I still remember the bright red lipstick on my lips.

In retrospect, I am not sure if she realized what I was trying to do. I do not recall if I was clear about trying to be a clown. She may have thought I was trying to be a girl and acted accordingly.

Anyway, I was so embarrassed that I insisted that she remove the makeup before my father and sister returned home. She complied.

And I no longer wanted to be a circus clown when I grew up. I wanted to be a woman.

 

 

 

Professional femulator Windy Starr in 1965.

 

 

 

Wearing Cedric Charlier.

First Time

When I was 12-years-old, I became fascinated with female impersonation when I noticed weekly thumbnail-sized ads in the New York Daily News for 82 Club. Each ad depicting  a glamorous showgirl accompanied by the caption "Who's No Lady?"

The 82 Club showgirls were female impersonators and I was amazed that a male could emulate a glamorous female! I was so impressed that I began clipping the 82 Club ads out of the newspaper each week and hiding them behind the Washington Senators in the box containing my baseball card collection.

One thing led to another and one afternoon when I was home alone, I went into my parent's bedroom and opened the drawer of my mother's bureau where she stored her nylon stockings. (This was in the days before pantyhose and seamless stockings, so her nylons had seams.)

I carefully slipped a stocking up each of my hairless legs (those were the days!) and straightened the seams. When I was done, I opened my mother's closet door to admire myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the door.

I liked what I saw: a pair of legs that looked just like a pair of woman's legs! Then I realized that I could do even better.

Inside the closet were stacks of shoeboxes containing my mother's shoes. I carefully looked through the boxes for a pair of high heel pumps. When I found a pair (with a three-inch heel), I slipped them on and revisited the full-length mirror.

Not only did I see a pair of woman's legs in the mirror, but they were now a shapely pair of woman's legs! I proved to myself that that a male really could emulate a female.

I quickly, but carefully removed the shoes and stockings and returned them to their proper place before my family returned home. And I assure you that would not be the last time I would visit my mother's bureau, closet and full-length mirror.

 

 

 

Two 1966 advertisements for the 82 Club.

 

 

 

Wearing Leota.

My Story - Part 3

Click on the image to enlarge it.

My Story – Part 2

Click on the image to enlarge it.

After posting My Life – Part 1, one of my blog readers asked if it was true. I assure you that all “My Life” postings are true.

With regards to my Mom acknowledging my femininity in Part 1, I don’t know if she was intentionally trying to make a woman out of me, but on countless occasions, she pointed out physical characteristics of mine that she thought were feminine. Intentional or not, her words stuck with me and probably had some affect on my psyche.

Regarding the image above, I admit that I never looked like the leggy blond in the image above, but the spoken words above are true or in close proximity thereof. And the same circumstances occurred on more than one Halloween occasion.

My Story – Part 1