You're Hired

Yesterday, I wrote about some career opportunities I might pursue after I leave my present job, including the following: "Would a woman's clothing store hire me as a saleswoman? The managers of the local Dress Barn know me well and like my fashion sense, so maybe they would be willing to hire me."

Truth be told, I had high hopes about working in retail as a woman, but I had great doubts that it was really possible.

In response to yesterday's post, I received e-mails from readers who knew girls who actually worked in retail en femme. Then I received an e-mail from a reader who had actually worked at Nordstrom en femme.

Motivated by the e-mails, I went to Dress Barn during my lunch hour yesterday.

Entering the store, there was only one sales rep on the floor – someone I did not know. She asked me if I needed help and I asked her if there were any managers in the store. She named two and I asked her if I could see the one who I knew from past Dress Barn forays.

The sales rep called out to the manager who was in the stockroom. A minute later, the manager exited the stockroom pushing a rack and when she saw me, she exclaimed, "Stanley!" Then she walked over to me and gave me a big hug.

She asked me how I was and I told her about my job situation. Then I asked her if she would hire me when the time came. And she replied that she certainly would hire me without a second thought!

That was music to my ears!

Wearing Lulu's.

Roman Vojtek femulates Helena Vondrackova on the Czech Republic's version of Your Face Sounds Familiar.

My Next Life

A Working Woman

I was surprised to receive a "voluntary separation package" from my employer a few weeks ago. They offered the package to all the old farts (like me) who have been with the company like forever (like me).

The package was very attractive. It was like it came from Don Corleone – they made me an offer I could not refuse!

I accepted the offer and the paperwork was signed, sealed and delivered this week. So as of May 31, I am free as a bird.

I am old enough to retire, but my financial advisor suggested that I wait until next year (to increase my monthly Social Security pay-out) and find some freelance or part-time work until then.

My mind is spinning with ideas about what to do; I am kicking around a lot of thoughts.

I can always continue to write. I know how to do that successfully and lucratively, but maybe it is time for a change... time to begin my next life.

Is there much of a demand for a trans fashion consultant? That is, someone who would accompany and advise novice and/or closeted femulators to help make wig purchases, get makeovers, buy outfits, etc.

Would a woman's clothing store hire me as a saleswoman? The managers of the local Dress Barn know me well and like my fashion sense, so maybe they would be willing to hire me.

I would appreciate any comments or suggestions you may have.

Wearing Venus.

French femulator, circa 1962.

Like MacArthur

Michelle was one of the founders of my support group. She was very active in the group for the better part of two decades holding down a variety of elected and unelected positions in the organization including the always difficult program chairperson role.

About ten years ago, her attendance at support group meetings became became irregular and eventually she stepped back from having any active positions in the organization. The last time I saw her was at the support group's annual banquet eight or nine years ago.

She just faded away.

Then there was an announcement on the support group's e-mail list that Michelle had died. I assume that the only reason we found out about her passing is that one of our members had a professional relationship with Michelle's male side, so she knew Michelle's male name and saw the obituary in a newspaper.

Typically, that does not happen. In most cases involving transgenders who live part time as men and part time as women, we do know their male names. When they die, their obituaries never mention their female names nor the fact they were transgenders. So we never know when they pass on.

Over the years, I have met a lot of older transgenders. Most of them were just acquaintances; a few were more than that, but most of them just faded away. I assumed they became ill and or died, but I'll never know.

It is sad. Old transgenders never die, they just fade away.

Wearing Metisu.

Femulate reader, Harriet, is 67 and has been dressing as long as she can remember on and off. Married and while her wife knows, she does not approve. She does go out in public, but family responsibilities and life, in general, requires that she keep a balance. She loves going to a very traditional hairdressers' salon and tries to keep regular appointments. It is her favorite feminine time.

Eve Visits Montreal

By Eve T

Earlier this month, my wife and I spent a long "girls-only" weekend in snowy, wintry Montreal, Canada.

We picked a new, small boutique hotel in The Old Port area. I had heard they were trans-friendly and advised them of our arrival, requesting advice and directions for exploring, restaurants, etc. They loved us and we loved them.

What a fun city! The Montrealers embrace winter and all the seasonal activities. Lots of skating!!! We rode the subways, walked all over, took taxis, lunched at bistros. And the shopping! (Great buys on fur, you need it up there). Underground mazes of plazas and malls, subterranean passageways, cobblestone streets and ancient storefronts.

We were both always greeted with "Bonjour, Madam!" and big smiles. The food is gourmet French. Everywhere! Pastries, crepes, soufflés. Try the afternoon High Tea at the Ritz Carlton Hotel (the Ladies' Room in the lobby is lovely!). And bring a larger girdle for potential waist expansion. Oh, and the exchange rate is like a 30% discount on everything. Because its really off-season (February), table reservations are not difficult.

Montreal is an international, cosmopolitan, sprawling city with an active downtown area, Old Port, Gay Village, Chinatown, French Quarter, English side, parks, waterfront; it's got it all. It's hip, cool and modern.

Smile, be confident, be pleasant, have fun and you’ll have a memorable time. But in the end it’s always about the people. I liked the Montreal/Quebecois take on it all... "C"est si bon!" Go and spread the good news!

Source: InStyle.co.uk

Christopher Morley is contestant number 6 in a circa 1970 womanless beauty pageant.

His Crowning Glory

Wearing MAJE dress, Sergio Rossi boots and Linda Farrow sunglasses.

Womanless swimsuit competition, circa 1950.

Got LBD?

Wearing SheIn.

Womanless beauty pageant contestant Number 4.

Mi Casa es Su Casa

As you probably know, "Casa Valentina is a play written by Harvey Fierstein which premiered on Broadway in April 2014 and opened in London in September 2015. It tells the story of men who spend weekends at a resort in the Catskill mountains, dressed as women." (source Wikipedia)

The play is based on a real upstate New York resort called "Casa Susanna" where men spent weekends dressed as women in the early 1960s.

Casa Valentina is also the name of a high fashion boutique in Lima, Peru, that sells cocktail dresses and evening gowns.

I wonder if any of its customers are men who spend the weekends dressed as women!

Wearing Rebecca Taylor dress, Sophia Webster sandals and Jean Bespoke clutch.

Christian Clemenson in the Los Angeles stage production of Casa Valentina.

Throwback Thursday

"Stana" is not a name you encounter frequently. My first acquaintance with the name was about 10 years ago on a postcard that that depicted an early 20th Century European "damsky imitator" (female impersonator) named Stana Behavy. My second acquaintance with "Stana" occurred soon after when actress Stana Katic appeared on the scene and made a name for herself starring in the television series Castle.

Jean Shrimpton was a fashion model in the 1960's and the model for the woman I wanted to become when I grew up. I love the outfit she is modeling in this photo. It is timeless and I would not hesitate to wear it today.

Mr. Billie Herraro was a natural beauty and was femulating professionally about the time I was born... in the late 1940's and early 1950's.

Better Read than Dead

I received the following e-mail from a reader:

When you're out as a woman and someone "reads" you or you run into any kind of trouble, how do you handle it?

Since I got my act together, I have been very lucky; I seldom notice anyone who I think might be reading me when I am out solo as a woman. However, my mileage will vary if I am out as a woman with other transpeople.

When I do get read, I seldom get more than a smirk or dirty look from a reader or a reader might nudge his/her companion to get their attention and "get a load of that."

I usually do one of two things when I think I’ve been read:

      Ignore the reader and go about my business.

      Flash a great big smile at the reader, which may disarm/confuse him/her.

There is a third option someone passed along to me that I would love to try, but never have:

      Flash a great big smile, then say, "Yes, you recognized me. Would you like my autograph?"

Thankfully, there has never been a "scene" or any kind or trouble that I have had to deal with.

Now let me back up a bit and elaborate on what I wrote above.

Since I got my act together…

When I was a "man in a dress," I got read more frequently than I do now. But as my presentation improved, the readings diminished.

I seldom notice anyone who I think might be reading me…

Unless the reader confronts you or reacts in some way (a smirk, a laugh, a grimace, etc.) indicating that they know what's up, you never know for sure if they are reading you or just checking you out or even better, admiring you. (I always assume the last option, although when I was less confident about my presentation, I always assumed the first option.)

By the way, I wear eyeglasses in boy mode, but seldom wear them in girl mode except when I am driving. As a result, I might miss a read or two sans eyeglasses. However, my vision is not that weak, so I doubt that I am missing much.

All that being said, in my opinion it is better to be read than be dead. That is, it is better to go out and experience the world as a woman and be read occasionally than to suffocate your woman in the closet.

Wearing Madeleine.

Kevin Kriegel (center right) femulates on the Florida stage in Sylvia.
(Thank you Jan for the heads-up!)

Hard Work

My wife often comments that since it takes so long for me to get ready to go out as a woman, is it worth it?

Of course, it is worth it (what a silly question), but she does make a legitimate observation, i.e., it does take me a long time to get ready.

My excuse is that I am obsessive compulsive. According to Wikipedia , "The phrase "obsessive-compulsive" has worked its way into the wider English lexicon, and is often used in an offhand manner to describe someone who is meticulous or absorbed in a cause. Such casual references should not be confused with obsessive-compulsive disorder…" (So, I'm not nuts, just a little crazy!)

As a result, when I go out as a woman, I want to look as perfect as possible, which means flawless makeup and not a hair showing that should not be showing.

I love putting on makeup and if I have the time, I indulge myself in the makeup process and can while away an hour or so putting on the war paint. But usually I don't have the time and I must get the job done as quickly as possible.

After years of practice, I have my makeup routine down to about 35 minutes if everything goes smoothly. I see no way of reducing that time without cutting corners and I refuse to cut corners, so I invest 35 minutes putting on my face.

The actual dressing is the easy part. I usually have my outfit picked out beforehand and I can have it on from soup to nuts, or should I say from girdle to wig in 15 minutes or less.

The wig I wear these days is a "shake and bake" wig. I just shake it out, put it on my head, make a few adjustments, and I'm done. I use self-stick pre-glued nails and they go on in less than five minutes with no muss or fuss. So, once my makeup is on, I can be out the door in less than a half hour.

Now the part I hate: hair depilation.

I am hairy. It is everywhere and depending on what I plan to wear, it can take 30 minutes to an hour just to get rid of it all.

I have long legs and they alone take some time to depilate. If I wear anything other than a long sleeved dress or top, then I have to depilate my arms. If I am wearing anything that exposes my shoulders, then they must be depilated, too. And so it goes for my chest and back if I am wearing anything that is low-cut in the front or back. Shaving my face is a joy in comparison.

When I come face-to-face with my hairy problem, I start thinking that my wife might be right, is it worth it?

Yes, it's hard work, but I still think it is worth every minute of it.

Wearing Fleur Du Mal pants, Rag & Bone blazer and Alexander Wang sandals.

Sorcordia