Anna Maria's Favorite Photo (of Anna Maria!)

Hello Stana, 

I truly love your blog! Attached is my favourite photo and this is the story:

For me dressing and passing are a bit of a challenge. Like you I’m 61, but I’m also on the heavier side and therefore, I always try to look like anybody’s wife / sister / mother / neighbour, etc. I kind of pass well only because I don’t call any attention to me... until I open my mouth... my voice is a dead give away!

A few years ago I was a board member for a local crossdressers’ club; I was in charge of organizing the social events. We were trying to organize a fall weekend in a small town some 150 km east of Toronto. Many believe that small towns have closed-minded people and therefore it is best to stay away and the only way for me to find out was to actually visit them.

It was an unexpectedly warm, humid spring day and I was dressed way too warmly. When I arrived to the local hotel (it has about 25 rooms), initially the manager gave me that quick look women have for other not-too-attractive women, but she was very surprised when I began to explain why I was there. She actually pulled me to one side away from the front desk and I thought, "OK, she is going to tell me to go away," but much to my surprise, she wanted to know where had I bought my dress!

This lady has become a very dear friend to my wife and myself and that is what makes this photo my favourite.

We have been back so many times that I’m also on a first name basis with the hotel owner, who is very careful to address me by my name and with the proper pronouns depending on whether it is me or my alter ego. The local businesses and restaurants always treat me well, our friend loves to come shopping with us and club’s weekend event also was a blast!

Take care, 

Anna María


In response to my open invitation to send me your favorite photo along with the story behind it and the reason it is your favorite photo, I received a bunch of photos and stories that I am posting in the blog on an irregular schedule. My invitation still stands, so don't be shy, send me your photos!

Wearing Sofia Cashmere.

Actor Pyotr Krasilov femulating in Russian television's

Vse Smeshalos V Dome (All Mixed Up In The House) (2006).

Raiding Her Closet

These two cartoons with a similar theme both appeared in the same issue of Playboy magazine, the November 1980 issue, which coincidentally also contained D. Keith Mano's article about Fantasia Fair.

During its heyday, Playboy seldom published cartoons with a crossdressing theme — perhaps one or two per year, so it was unusual to see two in the same issue. Maybe the Fantasia Fair article prompted the editors to dig into their backlog to find cartoons that were compatible with the Fan Fair article.

By the way, the cartoonists involved are big-time cartoonists in my book. The late Bill Hoest was best known for his daily comic strip The Lockhorns, while Skip Williamson was one of the premier underground cartoonists of the underground comix era.

 

 

 

Wearing Victoria’s Secret.

 

 

 

Comedian Darren Trumeter femulating on a
2007 episode of television’s The Whitest Kids U’ Know.

Sindi’s Favorite Photo (of Sindi!)

Not my most favorite, but one of my favorites. Dress Barn on clearance plus coupon :-) In response to my open invitation to send me your favorite photo along with the story behind it and the reason it is your favorite photo, I received a bunch of photos and stories that I am posting in the blog on an irregular schedule. My invitation still stands, so don't be shy, send me your photos!
	Sindi’s fave foto

 

 

 

Wearing Dabuwawa.

 

 

 

Actors Dieter Borsche and Georg Thomalla femulate in the
1951 West German film Fanfare der Liebe (Fanfares of Love).

It's No Fun Reading About Being A Girl

There was a silent auction during Fantasia Fair and one of the items up for bid was the November 1980 issue of Playboy magazine. That issue contained the infamous article that exposed Fantasia Fair to the world.

Titled "It's No Fun Being A Girl" and written by D. Keith Mano, I read that article back in 1980 and did not recall much of it. However, I do remember that the article impressed me that Fantasia Fair existed and provided an outlet for crossdressers to do their thing in public without fear. I hoped I would be able to attend some day.

Twenty-eight years later I finally made it, but that's another story.

Since the only thing I recalled about the article was the tampon "controversy," I wanted to revisit the article and see what impressed me 34 years ago. Searching online, I only found a few references to the article. However, I did notice that back issues of Playboy were available from a variety of sources, so I visited eBay and found a copy of the pertinent issue for $2.

When the magazine arrived, I began reading the article immediately. But, about half way through, I stopped reading it and skimmed the rest.

The writer was not trans in any way (at least, he did not admit to being trans). Rather, he was a civilian writing about his first person experience getting dressed as a woman and attending Fantasia Fair. He wrote a humorous piece, often at the expense of the trans folks attending the Fair.

The average Playboy reader would probably enjoy the humor, but I did not and that is why I stopped reading the article at the half-way point.

I did read the whole article back in 1980, but then there was next to nothing to read about being trans, so I relished every word (good or bad) on the topic. I don't recall if I found the article amusing back then – probably not because it hit too close to home – but the article did inform me about the existence of Fantasia Fair, which was something a confused 20-something transgirl could grasp onto.

 

 

 

Wearing Victoria’s Secret.

 

 

 

The “winner” of a recent womanless beauty contest.

Another Successful Outing

Each day, I get a little closer to going to work as a woman on a regular basis, that is, a more regular basis than once a year. Recently, the company reorganized my department. My boss moved on to another position in the company and I had a new boss, a woman who has been a co-worker for over 17 years. She and I have always had an excellent working relationship. Also, she has witnessed most of my Halloween appearances at work en femme. (She is the person who remarked that when I am en femme, I resemble a woman who was a former employee here.) We had a sit-down meeting this week to discuss my projects, both old and new.

It was our first one-on-one sit-down meeting since she became my boss, so I decided that it was a good time to tell her about what was really behind my Halloween appearances at work en femme. After discussing my projects, I told her I was a transgender woman.

She admitted that she was not surprised.

She also said that she was perfectly fine with me presenting as a woman at work.

And so it goes!

 

 

 

Wearing Louis Vuitton.

 

 

 

Actors Ben Savage and Rider Strong femulate
in a 1997 episode of television’s Boy Meets World.

Bath Time

By Paula Gaikowski

The capstone to my trip was to come on Wednesday when a meeting that was scheduled was canceled. This left me with a free day.

I debated with myself; I wasn’t up for a day in London all dolled up. That meant going drab, however, there was another choice: the city of Bath was an hour train ride away. A delightful town with Roman Baths, a Medieval Abby and cobblestone streets filled with cute shops. The answer was obvious: it was Bath time!

Since my feet were blistered from walking in my new heels all weekend, I wore my riding boots with my new Pendleton jacket and skirt. Tights and stocking have lessened in popularity back in the US but here in the UK black tights and hose are de rigueur. One of the many reasons I love the UK.

My train journey was uneventful other than the fact that I noticed women tend to sit with women, and on my busy train I had several women sit next and around me during the journey.

At the train station I bought a map and made my way toward Bath Abby and Roman Baths. I stopped for lunch in a traditional English pub and had fish and chips, of course. After lunch I was wandering around trying to get my bearings when I was approached by a hawker for the hop-on-hop-off bus tours around the city. Cute and friendly, I could not resist buying a ticket. I had always enjoyed tours like these and especially the chance to meet others when you travel alone.

Seating myself demurely out of the way towards the back of the bus, I was ready for my tour of Bath. I decided that I want to see the Roman Baths, Bath Abbey and also visit the Jane Austen Center. About two stops later, a couple of American women about my age got onto the bus. As the bus rocked and swayed thru the narrow and twisting streets of this historical city, we all tried to gauge our whereabouts by way of our maps.

One of the ladies leaned over and asked, “Excuse me do you know what stop or where the Jane Austen Center is?”

Hearing her familiar accent, I knew right off she was from my home state of New Jersey. I responded with equal exasperation, holding the map upside down for comic relief. Soon Sharon, Janet and I were huddled in conference over a map.

Looking up for a second, I saw a young woman in a Victorian costume standing outside the Jane Austen Center.

“There, there, there!” I pointed and soon the three of us were off the bus and walking toward the museum. I learned that Janet and Sharon were from the same area of New Jersey that I had grown up in. They were both divorced, one recent and one not so recent and worked at an arts and cultural center at one of the state universities. They had come to the UK for a conference down the road in Oxford, had the afternoon off and decided to visit Bath.

I had a great time touring the Jane Austen Center. I had always enjoyed the movies watching Pride and Prejudice and Mansfield Park with my wife. I love the clothes and the romanticism of it all. I’ve even read the book Pride and Prejudice.

As I pointed out earlier, I felt that my innate femininity was coming to the surface. I was feeling emotions that I had concealed and masked for so many years. It was fun to enjoy the exhibits and costumes with other women. I realized that it wasn’t bad to be feminine.

I rode the bus with Sharon and Janet for several more stops. Along the way, I learned our paths had crossed many times growing in New Jersey. We had attended some of the same concerts, night clubs and Jersey Shores haunts.

As we chatted, anytime I spoke about an event that involved an ex-girl or my wife, I would substitute boyfriend or husband. “Oh I had a boyfriend who worked there one summer.” It was surprisingly validating to say that and it made me smile.

The last two stops were Bath Abby, which dates back to the 1100s and then the Roman Baths. Historically fascinating, I enjoyed them both. I parted ways with my two new girlfriends at the Abbey.

I’m not sure what they thought of me. Although they accepted me as one of the girls, after any amount of time with me, it has to be clear that I’m not your average gal. They both were well-educated and come from a progressive environment, so I suspect that I was not the first transgender person they met. Their kindness and friendship did wonderful things for my self-esteem and self-image. It would have been a remarkable afternoon to visit Bath even drab. They helped make it even more special.

I was happy to be back on the train and resting my weary feet after a week of high heels and boots. I put on my iPod and was soon lulled into dreaminess by the English countryside and the rhythm of the train. It had been an incredible and memorable week and as I reflected over the events of the last few days, the theme from Disney’s Frozen came on my iPod. I never really listen closely to the words, but now after a week as Paula, they rang true to heart as no song has ever done before:

Couldn't keep it in Heaven knows I tried Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always had to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well now they know Let it go, let it go Can't hold it back anymore Let it go, let it go

 

 

 

Wearing Rachel Zoe.

 

Relay for Life womanless beauty pageant contestant in Oneonta, Alabama (2012).

Bond Girls

By Paula Gaikowski

I had a great night’s sleep and woke up refreshed and cheerful. I made coffee and turned on the BBC to check the weather and news.

One thing I noticed about myself as I woke up that morning: I was still in girl mode. Waking up after yesterday adventures, wearing feminine PJ’s with my French manicure, I felt so feminine and womanly. In the past I always gave myself an assignment to walk this way, hold my hands a certain way or sit as a lady. In other words, act more feminine. This morning I wasn’t acting feminine, I was feminine.

I could have easily worn jeans and a T-shirt and stuffed my hands into my pockets to hide my nails. In fact in the past, I probably would have. But today it just felt natural to reach for a dress. I love getting ready, makeup, foundation, dress, jewelry, hair, a splash of Channel --- what a confirming ritual. Off I went onto the streets of Reading.

I wanted to go to church, but found I was late, so I went by the church as it was letting out. I sat on a bench, enjoyed being part of the Sunday crowd and enjoyed the beautiful grounds and history of this beautiful structure.

If you have been paying attention and you are a regular reader of my articles, you’ll know there is one place I haven’t stopped by yet. That’s right, sisters M·A·C. The day before the M·A·C store had been so busy I could not get in. When I went by this Sunday morning, it was empty.

I asked the makeup artist about matching a lip pencil to the lipstick that I had brought with me. She found two shades. I asked if she could try them on me. “SURE!” was her response. We sat down in front of the mirror and she began to create a cupid’s bow.

I explained to her that I had trouble making a cupid’s bow.

She chirped back, “Well I’ve been doing this since I was 12 years old!”

We both had a great laugh when I smiled and said, “So have I!”

I went on to tell her that when I was a child, I had tried my Mom’s makeup and my sister’s clothes and that I always wanted to be a woman and now I was doing my best to fulfill that dream. I explained to her my plan was to spend as much time as possible that week as a woman.

She was so positive and reaffirming, “You look so good; go out there and enjoy the day.”

She asked me all kinds of questions about America and said it was her dream to live there someday.

Well I thought, “We both have the same dream --- you want to live in America as a woman and so do I!”

We both chuckled at the paradox and its truth. A few minutes later at the check-out I said, “Good-bye and good luck with your dream!”

A big smile flashed across her face as she said, “You, too, you, too!”

I shopped my way thru Debenhams and House of Frazer, Zara and a whirlwind of other stores. Then I stopped at Marks and Spencer and bought some fresh fruit. Finally around 2 PM, I made my way back to the apartment to rest a spell before meeting up with Jenny for dinner and a concert.

I made my way to the front of the hotel to meet Jenny at 4 PM.

She was right on time and in order for Jenny to use the car park at my hotel, I needed to advise the front desk. Being in the apartment section of the hotel, my phone wasn’t part of the switchboard. I tried numerous ways to contact them over the phone with no success. I really didn’t want to out myself to them, but if need be, I would.

A few years ago when I first started to go out as a woman, one of my biggest fears was forgetting my key and having to go up to the front desk to get another. Nowadays, it doesn’t bother me at all; to tell the truth, I kind of like doing it. I chalk it up to self-acceptance.

Thinking there would be one lone clerk on duty was not the case. There were about five employees huddled around the desk when I walked in. I got better service and attention then when I was drab. They even offered to drive the car around. What was lovely is nobody reacted in anyway other than me being a woman nicely dressed for the theater.

Jenny and I made our way over to a riverside park to take a few photos. It was fun taking a bunch of photos and not having to use a self-timer. It was then back to the hotel and an adjacent restaurant for a charming Italian dinner. The same restaurant I dined in the night before and was Ma’amed, but I noticed tonight when the check came they slipped up on the pronouns and used “Sir.” Being properly gendered is so important to me, so I hope it was because of the name on the credit card.

We had about a 20-minute walk (in heels) to the theater. Appearing was the London Concert Orchestra performing a program of James Bond theme songs. We had a pleasant stroll through the pedestrian mall of the Reading shopping district. It was Sunday evening and the crowds were thinning as we made our way along with other ladies and couples to the concert.

We bought our tickets at the box office and had a pleasant conversation with two women our age about the performance and our nails. We found ourselves a table and enjoyed a glass of wine while waiting. Jenny works as a professional musician and as she was reading the program for the evening, her eyes opened wide when she saw the name of a colleague! I would have fun during the concert teasing Jenny about being seen. I have to get my digs in somehow --- I still can’t get over the fact she wears a size 7 shoe!

The concert was fantastic and having a professional musician there to explain all the subtleties of the program was wonderful. Going to a concert was on my bucket list of things to do as a woman and made me feel very good about myself and how far I had traveled on the Good Ship Lollipop.

Walking back thru the deserted streets of Reading at 10 PM made me realize what it feels like to be vulnerable as a woman. Wearing high heels, hose, a dress and carrying a purse doesn’t allow one quick movement. Walking past bus stops and doorways filled with nefarious looking characters chilled me inside.

As much as I love dressing glamorously, it makes one question the illogical dress and uniforms that society and our culture assigns women. Nervetheless, I’ve waited too long to wear my bra to turn around and burn it in protest. I respect and admire women and that’s why I want to be one. That whole experience makes me identify even more with them.

Monday morning came early. My feet still ached from walking all weekend in heels, my nails were a wreck from the glue, and there were traces of eye liner left on my eyes. I felt great!

It was a bit surreal as I went through my day in a daze. I was tired and when I got back to the room, I showered, then shaved and laid on the couch for awhile.

Soon rested and hungry I hesitated only slightly when deciding what to wear. Opportunities like this week don’t come along too often for me and makeup and dressing was no longer the ordeal they had once had been for me. It was now a pleasurable routine that could be accomplished in less than an hour.

Luck was with me and I found a pair of Lee Press-on Nails in a seldom used section of my purse.

I spent the next two nights like this --- coming home, showering, resting, dressing and then out for a stroll through the local shops with dinner at Miller and Carters Steakhouse. They had great food and treated me like such a lady. The waitstaff was very professional and attentive and the second night there, I was greeted back with, “Good Evening, Ms. Gaikowski.”

 

 

 

Wearing Alexia Admor.

 

 

 

Womanless beauty pageant contestant in Hattiesburg, Mississippi (2014).

­­­­­T Time in England

By Paula Gaikowski

I typically am a little sad this time of year when so many of my sisters are meeting each other and enjoying Fantasia Fair out on Cape Cod. However this year, although I didn’t attend, I had a great time while I was a broad (I’m sorry couldn’t resist the pun). It’s a shame my sense of humor never evolved past the 2nd grade.

I was lucky enough to find myself traveling to the UK for business last month and had such a great time there last spring when I went out several times as Paula that I decided to give it another go as the Brits say.

I kept my clothes packed in a separate garment bag on the bottom of my suitcase. I had no trouble whatsoever with customs while traveling with wig, makeup, breast forms and women’s clothes. I brought along a new wool Pendleton suit that I found in a thrift store for the remarkable price of $10. I truly couldn’t wait to get out as Paula; my last time out was in June and I just needed to get my girl on.

My plane landed at 6:30 AM London time and I was in my hotel by 9 AM. I took a two-hour nap and when I woke up, jumped into the shower. When I went to the closet to get dressed I had my choice, Dockers and a cotton Henley or Black Liz Claiborne slacks paired with a Pendleton wool blazer. So I thought about it for about 1/1000th of a second and then pulled out the slacks and blazer. It just felt so right, sisters; why wait until tomorrow as I had planned. It just seemed so right this way.

There was one little kink (pun intended) in my plan, the Lee press-on nails that Stana recommends and which I always use, were nowhere to be found before leaving home. Instead, I bought the glue-on type. I had packed only one box and needed them for Sunday evening when Jenny and I planned dinner and a concert. The French manicure looks fabulous and the glue-on nails looked great as a finishing touch. Little did I know I just painted myself into a corner and would be forced to spend the whole weekend as a woman?

I didn’t have any adventures planned for the day, just a list of errands that needed to be run in preparation for my week ahead. My first stop was the supermarket (Sainsbury’s) to buy some groceries for the week. I navigated the aisles of the grocery store like a veteran housewife would. Stopping to ask for the location of the yogurt and being assisted with a smile.

Back to the apartment and unload the bags. Fix my hair and makeup and out the door riding the elevator down with another couple. This time I was off to the train station to buy my tickets for my daily commute. My heart sank when the woman behind the glass finished our pleasant transaction with a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

I had ridden into the train station on a pink cloud, and now I stood there stunned feeling foolish. She handed me the tickets and I chirped out a thank you. Shaken I decided to push forward and take a trial ride to my office on the train. I was a bit unnerved as I approached the turnstile where one inserts their ticket.

To my dread the ticket was rejected and the gate didn’t open. Here came a railroad official, I’m sure to arrest me for a multitude of imagined offenses. However, when he approached he asked for my ticket “Ma’ am.” Yes, he said “Ma’am” and then after he reset the gate, he bid me well with a “G’day Madam.” Off I went with faith restored in my womanhood.

It was fun sitting on the train shoulder-to-shoulder with other travelers and being perceived as a woman. Using the reflection of the window to check the reaction of others sitting near me, I notice nothing. Noses buried in books, bored looks, and the iPod stare.

Arriving at my stop after a short ride and changing platforms, I rode back with the same uneventful excitement.

Arriving back I realized that I hadn’t eaten in over 20 hours. I stopped at a delightful sidewalk cafe and was greeted once again with a Ma’am by the hostesses and then again by the waitress. Wow, that was four feminine pronouns in a row, one more and I get a free set of steak knives!

Riding the crest of this pronoun wave, I ordered some pasta and a glass of wine, then another glass of wine. I felt wonderful as I watched crowds of people moving to and from the train station. Seeing so many fashionable women and knowing I was finally one of them was a joy.

By now my feet were killing me, so I went back to my apartment to freshen up. I checked email, called home and did some general housekeeping. Usually at this point in my outings, I would shower and change back into boy mode, then go out and have dinner. However, I realized that my nails were glued on and if I took them off, I wouldn’t have a pair for my outing the next day with Jenny.

I was between a rock and hard place here and felt kind of trap. I drummed my nails on table and realized if I was going to eat dinner that night, it was going to be as girl. Oh well… a good problem to have!

I went over to the mall and bought some black hose for the next day and then perused the dresses at Debenhams. Finally I made my way over to a local Italian restaurant and had pleasant dinner along with a few glasses of wine. Finally exhausted and weary, I headed back to the apartment, showered and undressed.

Coming out of the shower I put on the satin PJ’s my wife had bought me for Christmas a few years ago and replayed the days events as I slipped into a peaceful sleep.

 

 

 

Wearing Julia Jordan.

 

 

 

Paula, a British professional femulator, circa 1930.

Wrestling with her identity

I leave you with three interesting articles I read last week that you may find interesting, too:

• “On the Other Side: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” by Marvi Matos, who tells the story about her spouse coming out as a transwoman.
• “Am I too old for a mini skirt?” by Karen Mallet. (The answer is “No.”)
• “My boyfriend, the cross-dresser” by Sarah Birch, who if OK with it.

Enjoy!

Fantasia Fair Final

Fantasia Fair: October 19 - 24, 2014

The girls dining at Ross's Grill, left to right, Andrea, Stana, Melissa, Natalie, Diana and Emeraude.

Fantasia Fair  has evolved.

In the past, it was reputed as being a getaway for female-to-male male-to-female crossdressers. Even six years ago when I attended my first Fanfair, that reputation preceded it.

The Fantasia Fair of the 2010s is different. Its attendees include female-to-male transgenders. And maybe it's just me... maybe I evolved since 2008, but it seems to me that a lot of the male-to-female attendees are in various stages of transition.

One thing that hasn't changed is that Provincetown is very diverse and accepting, so it affords a place where you can crossdress to your heart's content. But during Fantasia Fair it is impossible to pass no matter how passable you are because the civilians know what's up and read (right or wrong) every tall woman as "trans."

***

I wrote here that during the "Walking Tour of Historic Provincetown," our guide claimed that the B&B where I stayed during the Fair, Chicago House, was the birthplace of the International Foundation for Gender Education (IFGE). After the tour, I asked around and some people disputed that claim, while others seemed to support it.

Lynda e-mailed me in support of the claim.

She wrote, "I sat with the organizers of the IFGE at the Chicago House as the discussion of the plans for the organization took place. Merrissa Sherrill Lynn led the discusion and I believe became the first head of the IFGE."

***

Here is a shout-out to the girls I hung out with throughout the week (in alphabetical order). You ladies all made my week special and I hope we can do it again someday.

• Andrea, my Connecticut Outreach Society sister
• Davina, my Chicago House sister from Brazil
• Diana, my blogging sister from Connecticut
• Emeraude, my Chicago House sister from California
• Melissa, my Connecticut ham radio trans sister
• Natalie, my Chicago House sister from Connecticut (thanks again for the stamps, Natalie!)
• Also want to shout out to Sirena, a Connecticut expatriate. We kept passing like ships in the night in Cape Cod Bay throughout the week, but never found an opportunity to chat.
• Also, Robin, another Connecticut sister, who fell ill during the week and missed the tale end of the Fair.
• And Janie, my blogging sister from Canada. We met up way too briefly after one of the presentations during the week. I had not seen Janie since Fantasia Fair 2008 and it was great seeing her again. It was also nice to see that neither of us had changed one bit during the ensuing six years!

Wearing Krikor Jabotian.

 

A favorite photo from Fantasia Fair.
Taken by Luna Maria.