The Non-Civilians

In my previous post, the Femulator slot featured Mr. Phillips, a Colorado Springs high school teacher, who showed up at a school Halloween function dressed to pass. He looked very convincing, perhaps too convincing and my trans-radar screamed “not a civilian.” (Reminded me of a guy who showed up at work every Halloween in very convincing office girl drag!)

Mr. Phillips’ image reminded me of a post I wrote a few years ago about guys showing up for school dressed as gals, who also looked too good to be civilians. Since we are on the cusp of Halloween, I updated and added to that post and present it to you today for your enjoyment.

Whenever Starla sends me a new batch of femulator images that she culled from online school yearbooks, I try to pick out the femulators who are not civilians, that is, girls like us and not one-time femulators dressing up for their school's womanless event.

It may be due to all those years operating the trans radar, but there is something about certain womanless participants who give off vibes that they are in it for the long run. And sometimes, there are other clues that confirm those suspicions.

Such is the case with Sean Caufield (above). She is exquisite! Her hair, makeup and jewelry are perfect. And the extra clues move her out of the civilian realm. For example, her thin eyebrows en femme and en homme and the fact that dressing as a female is her choice for a Halloween costume and is not a femulation for a womanless event. 

And she is not alone.

I always suspect that something is up when a faculty member femulates along with the students like the student-teacher (above), who “shows off his feminine side on Halloween.” Does Miss Waugh's perfect wig, cleanly shaved legs, tailored skirt suit or slingback pumps hint that she shows off her feminine side on other occasions? Just wondering.

I was also wondering about Coach Ed (above), who goes by "Edwina" during her frequent forays in frocks, when she successfully passes among her students.

Then there is Matt Garber (above), who "was the only male student to wear make-up to the junior-senior prom," which begs the question: Did other male students attend the prom wearing prom dresses, but without makeup? (How gauche!)

Finally, there is lovely Phillip Sacks (above), who dared to be different, but my guess is that she is different more often than one day.

Mr. Wallace donned a French maid costume to fool his drama class students at Eisenhower High in Rialto, California. 

Knowing Smiles

By Paula Gaikowski, Contributing Editor

One of the good things about being 60 years old is that you have an overabundance of life experiences to draw on for self-counseling and for writing in Femulate. I’ve been meaning to write another article for the blog that we all call home, but have been coming up dry. Last night, I remembered an incident from my youth that I think might be of interest.

In 1979, I was stationed at Ramstien Air Base in Germany. Having a week off at Christmas, I took a USO bus tour to Barcelona. These trips are a mix of active military and their dependent families. They are always fun and you make friends quickly while enjoying the tour.

I made friends with an American family and their teenaged son who was only a year or two younger than I at the time. He was a bit of a rock ’n' roller with long hair and we spent an afternoon together perusing record shops in Barcelona looking for rare vinyl records.

On the way back, our tour guide announced a “Topsy Turvy” contest to be held that evening. (We would call it a “womanless beauty pageant” today.) This set off a purr of laughter and a buzz amongst all of us.

One of the ladies riding with us asked me if I’d like to borrow somethings for the contest and I regretfully declined. I would have preferred to dress up nicely and not present a caricature as many would that evening.

The turn out for the event was overwhelming with over 20 taking the challenge and appearing in the contest. Looking back through my eyes as a now experienced femulator, I can see that about a half-dozen of these ladies were ready for the event and had planned ahead.

How do I know they weren’t civilians? The ladies who were pretty and passable had wigs and wore shoes and dresses that fit. The spur of the moment gals presented your typical guy in a dress – look at me and laugh. The non-civilians shaved their legs – it was not their first rodeo.

The three runners-up were really into it and the crowd, especially the married ladies, enthusiastically applauded and appreciated them. Most memorable was my teenaged friend, who turned out to be every bit the glamour girl. In a black, long sleeved, sequined gown wearing black pumps, his long hair was coiffed and teased and his makeup was perfect with what looked like false eyelashes. I just remember how stunning her eyes were.

We found out that his Mom was a beautician and had competed in pageants when she was younger. She was quite proud of her creation, but it was definitely a team effort with a very willing accomplice. I have no doubt he was a budding femulator as it takes one to know one.

I ended the evening at the bar and after midnight saw him come in with a group of young people who had gone out to the local night clubs. I waved to him and gave him the thumbs up. He gave me a knowing smile and I smiled back – words weren’t necessary, we both understood each other.

This photo, which appeared in Colorado Springs' Wasson High School 2001 yearbook, so screams, “Not a civilian!” (Source: Starla).

Unfair

Hometown, not Provincetown

I just realized Sunday afternoon that Fantasia Fair is this week.

In the past, I looked forward to attending or I was a Sad Sack because I was not attending. In either case, I was well aware when Fantasia Fair was occurring.

Attending this year did not cross my mind, so its dates were not important to me.

After four trips to Fantasia Fair, I’ve seen it all (and I wrote the book about it). The only reason I would attend today would be to see friends and enjoy the town. Few (if any) members of that old gang of mine still attend, so that puts the kibosh on the first reason to go. And the weather typically stinks during Fantasia Fair, so if I want to enjoy Provincetown, I would pick a better time of the year weather-wise to visit, so that puts the kibosh on the second reason.

And so it goes.

Wearing StyleWe

2018 Fantasia Fair attendees

A Jane Fonda Night

Thursday afternoon, I drove to my daughter’s apartment in Hartford to attend Real Art Ways’ monthly Creative Cocktail Hour. The cocktail hour began at 6 PM, but I left home at 3:45 because the weather was miserable (heavy rain and gusty wind) and I assumed the traffic on I-84 would be miserable, too. I was correct; the normal 25-minute ride took 45 minutes. 

I arrived at my daughter’s apartment just as the rain let up momentarily, so I was able to dash from my car to her apartment building without getting wet. My daughter and her dog greeted me and we killed time waiting for the start of the cocktail hour talking and drinking (her water, me coffee).

Wearing a new dress and new hairdo, I asked my daughter how did I look and she said I looked like Jane Fonda. I thought that made sense... a senior woman trying to look younger by wearing a lot of makeup and a youthful hairdo. Anyway, I took it as a compliment.

My daughter has no qualms about appearing with me en femme in public, but asked me how should she introduce me if we met up with any of her friends. I suggested “Aunt” or “friend.” She preferred Aunt and that settled that.

At 6 PM, we walked to Real Art Ways and found a small crowd already in attendance. We immediately encountered one of her friends, a woman who worked there. I hung back as the two exchanged greetings and then the woman looked at me and said, “You look beautiful.”

I held out my hand and introduced myself, “I’m her Dad.”

She seemed surprised, “Nice to meet you. And you are beautiful.”

That set the tone for the evening. I felt like I could do no wrong walking through the galleries and taking in all the art exhibits.

I expected to run into some of my transwomen friends from my old support group. In the past, there might be a dozen in attendance, but not so Thursday night. In general, attendance seemed down. I assume that the weather had a lot to do with it considering thousands of homes throughout the state were still without power due downed trees caused by the storm.  

I did meet up with a new friend, the lovely Christine, who reads this blog. She had emailed me days ago that she might attend after reading that I planned to attend. She did and we did meet up and became new friends.

And I did meet up with Deja, a very old support group friend. We spent a lot of time catching up and it was great to see her again. (My daughter had met Deja at my support group’s annual banquet in 2005, so they had even more catching up to do!)  

Due to the small crowd size, it was not a typical Creative Cocktail Hour. Besides the absence of other transwomen who usually show, I did not see familiar civilian faces I have seen in the past. C’est la vie.

My daughter and I had a great time anyway and we will probably do it again real soon now.

Wearing Paige Chamomile dress.

To  be determined!

Tale of Two Dresses

It was a dark and stormy afternoon. I held my breath every time I heard a gust of wind outdoors anticipating a power outage. Thousands lost power in Connecticut, but I lucked out. Nothing was going to interrupt my evening out with my daughter, but I had a close call.

I was ready to leave the house and as I went to the closet to get my coat, I noticed a loose button on my dress. It was hanging by a thread and when I touched the button, it fell to the floor.

This was a new dress and you would think there would not be any problems But it was not the first time that something new had loose buttons, so I sighed and got out my sewing kit.

After threading the needle, I realized I was running late and sewing the button back on the dress was going to make me even later. So I decided to wear a different dress. I peeled off one dress and slipped on another, slipped on my coat, grabbed my purse and went on my way.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Bryce Anderson, male womenswear model

Real RLE

Real-life experience (RLE) is a process where transsexual and transgender people live full-time in their preferred gender identity for a period of time, in order to demonstrate that they can function as a member of said gender. —Wikipedia

I was thinking about my RLE.

The longest I have lived full-time in my preferred gender was when I attended Fantasia Fair for 7 days in 2008, 2012 and 2014, but I discount those experiences because the people who live and work at the site of the Fair, that is, Provincetown, Massachusetts, are aware that the transgenders are in town for the week. Every tall female stranger is a suspected transwoman and nobody passes. How can you have a real life experience in your preferred gender if almost everyone you interact with knows your assigned at birth gender?

Discounting Fantasia Fair as an RLE for that reason also discounts the various three, four, and five-day transgender conferences and conventions I have attended in the past.

That leaves me with my four-day full-time experiences in New York City in 2009 and Hamvention in 2010 through 2019 (sans 2017) and my too numerous to count one-day outings. I consider those my real RLEs.

Admittedly, in some cases, some people knew what was going on because I came out to them, but the majority of people did not know. They may have suspected something was up, but I was just as clueless about what they thought as they were clueless about me.

I do think it is noteworthy that no one reacted negatively to me during my RLEs (a youth in New York City called me a "dyke," but I considered that a positive reaction).

So either (a) I passed as a woman in other peoples' eyes, (b) people suspected something, but were not confident enough in their suspicions to react to the tranny, (c) people suspected something, but respected my desires to present as a woman, (d) people suspected something, but did not care, or (e) people suspected something, but were afraid to react to a crazy transwoman.

Whatever.    

In my opinion, my RLEs successfully demonstrated that I can “function" as a woman.

Wearing Acler blazer

Jeremi Sikorski femulates Izabela Trojanowska on Polish television’s Your Face Sounds Familiar.

Ghost of Payless

Christian Siriano for Payless Women's Habit Pointed Pump

Me and a lot of Femulate readers miss the recently departed Payless shoe store. Their prices were reasonable, their styles diverse and they had larger sizes that girls like us prefer.

Roscoe commented that Payless is alive and well selling their foot ware on Amazon. Their Amazon brand is called “dexflex” and includes the styles we were familiar with under the Amazon brand. The “Christian Siriano” brand is also available on Amazon. And all the sizes we got used to from Payless are available, too.

Initially, I thought that their presence on Amazon might be permanent, but after perusing what is available, I noticed that various sizes were sold out for various styles. So it looks like Payless may be just dumping their leftover stock there.

I searched the Internet trying to confirm what is going on, but could not find anything. If anyone knows better, let me know. Meanwhile, don’t hesitate; stock up now before the stock is depleted.

Wearing Venus

Reed Birney femulating on stage in Casa Valentina.

Femulating Times Three

Corey Rae as a “Hollywood Socialite,” Halloween, circa 1995

To Be Costumed or Not Be Costumed Dept.

“If you haven’t yet transitioned—or even come ‘out’ as transgender—Halloween is a great night to test the waters. A female-targeted costume can offer you the chance to express yourself freely, even if only for the night. Once you have a taste of that world, it might be hard to go back to presenting as the gender you don’t identify with. But perhaps it’ll give you the confidence to be your true self with those around you.”

The preceding is a snippet from a refreshing article by Corey Rae, titled As a Transgender Woman, Halloween Has Always Been My Favorite Holiday.

Believe It or Not, Ripley Dept.

According to The Hertford Reformer (1835), Lady B contacted the police as some of her jewels were missing. She asked that all of her domestic help be interviewed except for her lady’s maid of eight months who she trusted implicitly. The police eventually reported back that the jewels had been found and that the thief was her lady’s maid, who turned out to be an escaped convict and a man!

(From Emily as reported in Wardrobe Wisdom from a Royal Lady's Maid by Alicia Healey)

Another Blushing Bride Dept.

Holly wrote, “I wanted to tell you about my experiences of going to bridal shops.

“About three times a year, I arrange a photoshoot—try and go with a theme. I was having a photoshoot with a photographer who normally does weddings, who suggested I do a photoshoot in a wedding dress and I thought it sounded like fun.

“I initially looked round on eBay for a cheap wedding dress, but any dress I liked the look of was way too expensive. I then contacted a few local wedding dress shops ( I live in Newcastle, UK) to see if they had any sample/end of the line dresses at a reasonable price. I was up front and told them I was male and needed the dress for a photoshoot. All of them were very accommodating and I tried on many. Eventually I found a shop that specialized in retro wedding dresses. She had a really lovely one that fitted and said I could hire it, which I did for £50. She also kitted me out with accessories.

“I did the photoshoot, had an amazing day some photos on my flickr profile (https://www.flickr.com/photos/hollyuktv/).”

(See Holly as a bride in the Femulator slot below.)

Wearing Ollalaa

Holly's bridal femulation

Girls’ Night Out with a Twist

Real Art Ways "is an alternative multidisciplinary arts organization in Hartford, CT that presents and supports contemporary artists.” On the third Thursday of each month, Real Art Ways holds a "Creative Cocktail Hour," which they say, "represents the best of everything Real Art Ways has to offer: innovative art, invigorating music and hundreds of the most interesting and open-minded people to share the experience.”

I have attended Creative Cocktail Hour a number of times and typically found a dozen or so of my trans sisters also in attendance. I have not attended Creative Cocktail Hour since the summer of 2014. I had made plans to go since then, but life got in the way and I was unable to go.

My daughter recently moved to Hartford and Real Art Ways is her neighbor. While walking her dog, she has encountered Creative Cocktail Hour crowds milling about Real Art Ways, but she has never attended because she did not want to go solo (I can’t blame her).

I mentioned to her that some of my trans sisters attend and I would be happy to accompany her if she was comfortable going with her old aunt rather than her old man. She was enthusiastic about attending with me en femme, so we have a date to go to Creative Cocktail Hour together.

How cool is that!

Wearing Venus

Singer Akihiro Miwa

Miss-Representing Ourselves

By Sally Stone, Contributing Editor

There was a time when concerns about what people were thinking of me made my forays into the outside world terrifying and often, debilitatingly stressful. My concerns were based primarily upon the fear that I couldn't pass. I’ve long since overcome that fear and I no longer care that my birth gender is usually obvious. Still I wonder sometimes what the people I meet are thinking.

Generally my interactions with others when I am presenting in my feminine persona are extremely positive. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had an ugly encounter. People appear to accept my presentation and quite often, they actually reinforce that acceptance with verbal approval.

Take a recent shopping trip as an example. I was in a downtown department store searching for a skirt when a sales associate approached to ask if she could assist me. I told her I was looking for a very specific style of denim skirt. She was only too happy to assist me in my search and then, while we were together, she told me I was beautiful and that she loved my hair. Who wouldn’t be flattered?

What was she thinking though, as she made small talk with me? Obviously, she recognized right away that I wasn't a genetic female, but did she think of me as a man dressed in woman’s clothing or did she consider me a transwoman? Was it actually possible that she recognized me the way I think of myself, a part-time woman?

I can’t know for certain, but I sense that most people who interact with me just assume I have transitioned or am in the process of transitioning. I believe that most cis people have been conditioned by current events to assume anyone who dresses like a woman wants to be a woman full-time. I suspect most don't realize there are girls like me, girls who are decidedly different.

Of course, in the grand scheme of life, it really doesn’t matter what people think about my feminine appearance, but somehow, I have always felt I’m being deceptive by not mentioning that I am different from the transwomen in the public spotlight and that my reason for presenting feminine is not the same as theirs.

Would they think of me differently if they knew I was only a part-time woman? Would their acceptance of me change? When it comes to a casual acquaintance like the sales associate I mentioned above, it would be awkward to broach the subject of my presentation motives. Still, I wonder if I’m misrepresenting myself and passing up an opportunity for additional trans outreach.

Perhaps the cis community should know that not all transwoman are like those in the public eye. Maybe I should make it known that there are many of us who consider our gender to be fluid, so we choose to express our feminine persona occasionally.

I dare say that introducing the gender fluid concept to many cis people would certainly complicate the trans narrative they have grown accustomed to understanding. Maybe I’m so well received because people assume I am a “typical” transwoman and they are comfortable with that familiar concept. I can’t help but wonder if people knew my true trans nature would it change their opinion of my feminine persona.

So, I have to ask myself, am I enjoying such broad acceptance because those I meet are assuming they understand my “trans-ness," which somehow makes them okay with it? Ultimately, I probably won’t know how much of this is true unless I ask someone, but that doesn’t seems like a very likely conversation for a casual encounter. Perhaps the opportunity to have this conversation will arise in the future, but for now I will continue to happily accept the fact that I’m accepted as a transwoman no matter the reason.

Wearing JustFab

Amanda Winters

Pantyhose Ups and Downs

Pantyhose, from the miniskirt to the boardroom and now banished to the back of lady’s lingerie drawers.

By Paula Gaikowski, Contributing Editor

I have always been captivated with and loved pantyhose. I hesitated writing this article for fear it would pigeonhole me as being somewhat obsessed in a seedy way. I’ll emphasize that is not the case. It is more that I identify my femininity with this classic sense of style and formality.

Stockings and tights were the first clothes that I was drawn to. They hung from the shower curtain, the girls in my class wore them and television advertisements teased “sheer indulgence.” I remember a No-Nonsense radio ad with a background chorus that sang, “We make you feel more female.”

As I evolved over the years, pantyhose have always been a part of my wardrobe. A close shave and a pair of Hanes Silk Reflection hose will literally transform half my body into a more feminine form. Nowadays, at least once a week when getting dressed for work, I’ll put on my bra, panties and pantyhose sit there for a minute and reflect on the up coming day and take them off before putting on my male work clothes. Nothing sensual or erotic, just a moment of peace.

Pantyhose sales have been in steady decline since the mid 1990’s. What the heck happened? There appears to be a multitude of reasons. As baby boomers entered the workforce, the hippies and counter culture entities shed their blue jeans and peasant skirts for suits, wingtips, pumps and pantyhose. The dress code of business was defined by the current generation in power at the time. Remember the movie Working Girl with Melanie Griffith. (I wanted to be just like her!)

Then there was a changing of the guard in the mid-90’s Women became managers and gained control over dress codes and fashion choices in business. Female executives began to realize that there was no compelling reason why she or her colleagues had to spend $50 to $100 a month on pantyhose or wear them when it was hot and humid. Sales began a steady decline through the early 2000’s with the financial industry and white shoe law firms being the last holdouts. Today, the only place we see pantyhose daily is on flight attendants and the staff of southern Republican senators.

All is not lost mind you. I travel to the UK several times a year and can tell you unmistakably when women wear a dress, they will wear hose and most often it is black. Perhaps it’s the cool and rainy climate, but the selection of black tights in Marks and Spencer is huge. I can say the same is true in Poland, The Netherlands, Hungary, China and Australia. Argentina and Chile get an honorable mention.

Prior to the advent of pantyhose, stockings were held up by a garter belt or a girdle with built-in garter clips. An essential part of every woman’s wardrobe, stockings provided the perfect vehicle for DuPont, the company responsible for the invention of nylon. Nylon stockings made their grand debut in a splashy display at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York. By the time stockings were released for sale to the public on May 15, 1940, demand was so high that women flocked to stores by the thousands. Four million pairs sold out in four days.

Pantyhose went on sale in 1959, the year I was born! A coincidence? I think not. Not surprisingly they were invented by a man, Allen Gant in 1953. At the time, Gant ran the Glen Raven Knitting Mill of North Carolina, which was founded by his father John Gant in 1902. Gant was inspired to invent the garment by his pregnant wife, Ethel, who complained about wearing garter belts especially while she was pregnant. It might be worthy to note that Ethel did construct a prototype panty with hose sewn in.

Pantyhose slowly became popular, however, older women were hesitant to give up their stockings and like many trends in the last century, the baby boomers latched onto pantyhose when the miniskirt became popular. Gartered stockings did not work well with miniskirts. Stockings quickly took a back seat and pantyhose became the standard for women. When it was time for them to go to work, the baby boomers brought them into the office and social events.

During their peak of popularity, the selection of pantyhose was overwhelming. They came in all types of colors, deniers of sheerness, textures, support, lite support, control top and sandal foot. There were television, radio, newspaper and magazines ads.

The sheerness of pantyhose is measured in denier. Denier translates to  “French coin of small value.” One very small thread of silk was worth one denier. This evolved into the standard for measuring the thickness of fiber and thread in the modern textile industry. Super sheer stockings might be 10 or 15 denier, while opaque tights might be 40-60 denier. I’ll note here that in the US, we refer to the more sheer denier as pantyhose and the heavier denier as tights. In the UK, tights are used to describe all pantyhose.

To quote Hosiery Association President Sally Kay, “Sales of the traditional waist high garment will not return to those which the industry experienced in the 1970’s through the late 1990’s.”

Oh, Sally, say it ain’t so!

Fear not my Femulate readers, pantyhose are far from gone. In fact, they are enjoying a small bit of a popularity among younger women. Sheer hosiery had $482 million in sales in the one-year period ending May 2018 and 27% of those sales were to millennials, which is an increase of 9%.

The other 91% were probably me and Stana!

Wearing Nine West heels

Femulating at the 1983 Closet Ball