New Shoes

Being a fashionista who buys online, I receive a dozen e-mails everyday advertising specials from the various online merchants I have bought from in the past. I usually look at the specials from my favorite online merchants like Spiegel, Newport-News, and Jessica London, but I seldom buy anything.

Today, I received an exclusive invitation (ooh-la-la!) to Spiegel's end-of-season private sale!

Perusing the sale, I fell in love with a pair of two-toned patent cutout 4-inch stiletto high-heeled sandals (photo above right). They cost a mere $19.99 (original price was $65) and they had my size, so I ordered a pair.

Nice deal!

More Males Modeling Female Attire

(Updated Below) Two years ago, I wondered here how many female models were actually males.

"Urban legend says that some of the fashion models wearing female finery on the catwalks of the fashion world are actually males... Trying to determine which female fashion models, if any, are actually male has been a futile endeavor."

Since writing that post, I have mentioned the few male female models I have learned about, for example, Terri Toye, Martin Cohn, Phillipe Blond, etc.

Yesterday, An Admirer commented on that two-year-old blog post. Unless you happened to be reading that two-year-old post, most of you likely missed the comment, so I am mentioning it here. An Admirer wrote, "I've noticed recently that transgendered girls are all over Model Mayhem ...What's even more interesting is that some admit they are male up front. Wow!"

An Admirer then lists some of the models who admit to being male in their profile.

AlexMariaBez (photo above) is one of those male female models; actually he is an "aspiring" model. Dunno how many of the male models on Model Mayhem are aspiring or actually working models. Regardless, the times they are a changing and more males are likely to join the Martin Cohns and Phillipe Blonds on the runways of the female modeling world.

UPDATE: Since originally posting this blog entry, AlexMariaBez changed her gender on her Model Mayhem profile from "male" to "female." She gave no reason for doing so.

Girl Talk

This morning, I went into the kitchenette at work for a coffee refill and found my female friend, Nan, who knows all about Stana, talking with another woman, Liz, who does not know about Stana, but might suspect something because she saw me crossdressed twice for two company Halloween parties. (I changed their names to protect the innocent.)

Liz was holding up a black cocktail dress and they were discussing the merits of the dress. Naturally, I was all ears.

I was just waiting for Nan to joke with me about the dress because just yesterday, Nan asked me how my never ending diet was going and I told her I had slimmed down from a dress size 18 to a size 14.

Nan said nothing, but smiled at me like the Cheshire Cat.

I was surprised when out-of-the-blue Liz asked me what I thought about the dress!

I did not feign disinterest. Instead, I examined the dress and told her it was very nice, especially for the price ($39 at Marshall's).

I am considering coming out to Liz; I can use another ally.

It's Bazaar!

Nearly two years ago, one of my credit cards offered free subscriptions to a bevy of magazines. The only magazine in the bevy that interested me was Harper's Bazaar. "Sophisticated, elegant and provocative, Harper's Bazaar is the fashion resource for women who are the first to buy the best, from casual to couture." That sounded like me, so I signed up for a free subscription.

When my free subscription was expiring last year, I received a bevy of letters urging me to renew. For my purposes, Harper's Bazaar was a look-book. I'd look at it once to see the fabulous fashions on display inside and then recycle it. A free subscription was suitable, a paid subscription was not, so I ignored the subscription renewal notices.

Guess what? The magazine renewed my subscription for free!

No explanation, no nothing. I assumed that they did not want to lose subscribers, which in turn might cause them to lose advertisers, so they renewed me for gratis.

The 502-page fall fashion issue of Bazaar arrived in the mail this week. Attached to its cover was a notice indicating that it was the last issue of my subscription and that I ought to renew.

I have no plans to renew my subscription, but I wonder if they will renew me again for free.

Next month will tell.

Revisiting Stana's Closet

On Monday, I wrote about my closet. That writing included a photo of my closet with my female clothing hanging on the closet rods and my high heels in shoe boxes stacked on the floor.

Did you notice what was not in my closet?

Me.

I was in the closet for a very long time. From my early teens until I joined a support group in the late 1980s, all my femulations were in the confines of my home (except for a handful of Halloween femulations).

My girl was cooped up in that home closet for almost 20 years, so when I finally attended a support group meeting, it was a breath of fresh air in comparison.

By attending support group meetings, I was out in "public" for the first time. I dressed at home and drove 30 minutes to the support group meeting place. During the drive, I was really out in the public albeit within the enclosure of my automobile.

At the meetings, I will argue that I was also out in "public" because at first, all the other attendees were strangers to me. They were as "public" to me as anyone I might encounter on a city street. Also, the faces of the attendees changed constantly with new folks showing up, while others dropped out, so there was almost always a new public to face at the meetings.

The support group occasionally sponsored outings to local restaurants. The group planned those outings in advance; the restaurants prepared for our outings and usually stuck us in a private room so that the other clientele, the "public," would not disturb us!

I regularly attended support group meetings for about years and was very active in the group editing their newsletter, as well as organizing the group's annual banquet.

After attending support group meetings for five years or so, I realized that the support group meeting hall was just a bigger closet located 30 miles up the Interstate from my home closet, so my girl was itching to get out in public a little farther.

So, I attended my first transgender convention. Now, the closet was huge and encompassed a whole hotel. I had such a wonderful time in the expanded closet that I attended a different trangender convention every year for about five or six years. Then I crashed into a closet wall again and realized that although the trans convention closet was very big, it was still a closet and I was stuck in it.

I considered my situation. I was not getting any younger and if I did not make a real effort to get out of the closet, I would never get out. The only thing preventing me from getting out of the closet was me.

I had a great fear of being recognized by the public as a natal male and being ridiculed (or worse) as a result. And despite a lot of evidence to the contrary that I could pass on occasion, I was sure that as soon as I stuck my high-heeled foot out in public, every civilian who encountered me would know the "truth." But my girl so wanted to go public and finally I made up my mind to do something about it.

On a cool November day four years ago, I shaved, showered, did my makeup, dressed, and drove to the mall. I dressed appropriately to fit in (and not stand out) by wearing a long black tunic sweater, "heather-gray" leggings, and the pant boots, but I sat in my car trying to get up the courage to go inside. After 20 minutes, I made up mind that "it was now or never" and I got out of my car and went into the mall.

My day out had its ups and downs (you can read about it in detail here. Some people read me and reacted in such a way that I knew that they read me, but most of the time, people paid little or no attention to me. So I assumed that (1) most people who read me were polite and did not react or (2) most people who read me did not care and did not react or (3) I passed.

In any case, I was out of the closet and it felt wonderful. That alone would have made my day, but my visit to Sephora was icing on the cake.

I sought some makeup advice, so I went to Sephora for a consultation. The consultant could not have been nicer. While she was experimenting with my face, I mentioned that I had beard cover under my foundation and that the reason I was wearing beard cover was because I was crossdressing.

I probably did not have to tell her I was crossdressing because up close and personal, she probably detected that fact. No matter, she said to me, "You only have one life to live and you should live it like you want. If someone has a problem, then it is their problem, not yours."

Wow! That was an epiphany!

Throughout my life, I always worried about what other people would think of me and if someone had a problem with me, I thought it was my fault, that is, I had done something wrong. The Sephora consultant turned that philosophy on its head and I realized that as long as I am not hurting anyone, I should live my life as I want to live it.

I felt so free!

After that, whenever the opportunity arose, I went out in public en femme. Shopping, shows, dining, outreach, seminars, a four-day stay in Manhattan, etc., over the past four years, I have embraced every opportunity to go out en femme and in the process, I discovered some important things.

The more I went out in public en femme, the more I passed. I was no longer nervous about going out en femme. Instead, I was relaxed and acted more naturally and people who might have read me, ignored me because I was not drawing attention to myself.

The more I went out en femme, I realized that being en femme was the real me. I no longer had to concentrate on femulating. Just acting as myself was more than enough because there was no longer a need to act as a woman because I really was a woman all along, but it took a long time to realize it.

Closets are for clothing, not people, so I urge you all to get out of the closet and be the woman you want to be. Maybe you will discover that you are a plain vanilla crossdresser or maybe you will discover that you have really been a woman all along.

By the way, the photo above shows me standing outside of my closet.

Womanless Archive and More Fave Photos

In the past, a very popular topic here has been the coverage of womanless beauty pageants, fashion shows, and other public events in which "civilian males" impersonate women. ("Civilian males" are non-professional female impersonators.)

Some readers suggested compiling a list of all the womanless events mentioned in past installments of Femulate, so I created the Womanless Archive that you can access here.

Also, I added more photos to my new favorite photos web page.

Tall Notices

It has been three months since our last Famous Females of Height List update, so it's about time for another.

While watching the film Final Destination, I noticed 5'8" Ali Larter, a film and television actress.

Regular contributor Peaches noticed 5'9" Mary Elizabeth Winstead, a film actress of Scott Pilgrim and Sky High fame.

SoCalSecrets noticed 6'0" Sandra Gal, a professional golfer, whose image appears in this post.

By the way, I noticed that Bettina Wulff, Germany's First Lady, is tall, but how tall? I have been unsuccessful in determining her height. If anyone can provide that information, please do.

Updating My Femulate Web Pages

I reworked my femulate web pages. Rearranged some pages, updated others, and even deleted a few. I also added one new page, which you may like to check out: my favorite photos, which replaces an old page of the same name.

I will continue reworking the pages and keep you posted as to anything new.

Stana's Closet

My wife and I "share" a walk-in closet off our bedroom. I write "share" because she uses four racks for her wardrobe and I use one rack! To make matters worse, my one rack contains both my male and female wardrobes.

Pictured above is the east half of my one rack. Two thirds of that half (or one-third of the whole rack) now contains my female stuff, which is slowly, but surely taking up more space and forcing me to thin out my male stuff.

The shoe boxes on the floor contain my high heels. The 12 visible boxes are just the tip of the iceberg; there are two more rows of shoe boxes storing heels behind the visible boxes.

The tackle box to the right of the shoe boxes contains my makeup.

To the right of the tackle box (out of the view of this photo) are five cardboard boxes. One box houses clear storage boxes that contain my bangles and beads. The other four boxes contain my unmentionables, hosiery, purses, wallets, scarves, etc.

Two additional boxes sit on a shelf in the closet. One contains my wigs; the other contains sundry of other items that make my femulation possible, as well as passable.

The belt rack on the wall to the left contains mostly female belts, after all, how many belts does a guy need?

My winter outerwear hangs in a closet in the spare bedroom. When the cold weather moves in, I move my winter coats du jour from the spare bedroom closet to our walk-in closet. To accomplish that this year, I will have to move the warm weather female stuff to the spare bedroom closet.

Such is the closet of an active femulator!

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.

Girls’ Night Out Last Night

My girls’ night out last night was fun!

(That’s me in the photo just before I left the house.)

I met Diana at the Real Art Ways parking lot. She left her car there and I drove our mini-carpool to downtown Hartford to dine at Vito’s restaurant.

We found a parking place on the street right in front of Vito’s and when we entered the restaurant, we discovered that we were the first diners of the evening.

Our beautiful waitress, Ashley, addressed us as ladies and she could not have been more pleasant. I had their “Fiocchi Pasta,” which is
stuffed with four cheeses and pears in a sweet and spicy cream sauce. It was excellent.

The restaurant was very quiet. We were the only diners most of the time; a few diners finally trickled in just before we left the premises.

The last time I dined at Vito’s on a Thursday evening a few years ago, the place was near capacity attendance, so the contrast was stark. However, a party of 40 had reservations last night, so I expect things got livelier after we departed.

Back to Real Art ways for their monthly “Creative Cocktail Hour” and we were first in line to pay to enter.

We bought drinks, viewed the artwork that was on display, then we staked out a table where we sat, chatted, and people-watched for about an hour. A few old friends came by and we renewed acquaintances.

Then we bought another round of drinks (non-alcoholic, by the way) and went outside on the patio to get some fresh air.

One of my blog readers recognized me and introduced herself as a daily reader and fan of the blog. I was happy she stopped to say “hello,” because it is always great to meet one of my readers in person.

The trans crowd was not. Last few times I attended the “Hour,” there were usually a dozen or so transgirls present. Last night, I counted six including myself. Go figure!

Throughout the evening, I noted my interaction with the civilians. Males would look at me and nothing more. On the other hand, if I caught the eye of a female, she would invariably smile and I would returned the smile and if she was close enough, I would say “hello” and she might return the greeting, but nothing more.

As our evening wound down, we sat on a wall-length bench outside the main exhibit area next to a female couple. After awhile, Diana decided to leave, but I wanted to hang on for a little while longer, so I remained seated.

Shortly thereafter, while one member of the female couple was off doing something, the other female engaged me in conversation. Turns out she is the partner of the woman whose art exhibit had opened last night. They are from Brooklyn and we chatted about NYC and Connecticut, etcetera, etcetera.

We had a pleasant chat for about 15 minutes. As we were running out of things to talk about, I decided it was a good time to gracefully exit the premises because it was approaching my bedtime and I had to get up at 5:45 AM. So I excused myself, thanked her for the conversation, and worked my way through the crowd to my Subaru awaiting me outside.

The evening out was superb and I look forward to my next outing en femme.

Girls’ Night Out Tonight

Hartford is the destination for my girls’ night out tonight where I will meet my friend Diana for dinner at a restaurant downtown. After dinner, we will enjoy an after dinner drink (or two) at Real Art Ways’ monthly Creative Cocktail Hour.

It should be fun and I am looking forward to another opportunity to be en femme.

My Story – Part 1

When the Shoe (High Heel) Is on the Other Foot

Click on the image to enlarge it.

Failures in Femulation : Bad Hair Daze

This is the first in a series about the major errors femulators make in their presentations that detract from their femulations, in my humble opinion. In addition to pointing out the\ errors, I will explain how to avoid and/or correct them.

Caveat emptor: I have no formal training in the arts related to femulation. However, I do have over 45 years experience practicing those arts and have become so adept at them that I pass more often than not.

Inexpensive wigs are attractive to femulators because they are inexpensive. Their attractiveness ends there because a cheap wig by any other name is still a cheap wig.

When you wear a cheap wig, there is no fooling anyone that the hair on your head is fake. And when people see that you are wearing a wig, they might examine you more closely and find other clues that give away your natal gender.

I have owned a few cheap wigs in my time and I have photos wearing those cheap wigs that convinced me to go upscale in the wig department. “Upscale” meant spending $99 rather than $49 for a wig.

It was an improvement, but not good enough. A $99 wig was still relatively inexpensive for a wig (it was just more expensive "cheap" wigs).

Also, I did not know what wig was best for me. I tried different styles, different lengths, and different colors, but always avoided blond shades and short lengths.

I avoided blonds because I thought that blond was oh so drag. All the boys who wanted to be girls wanted to be blond girls.

Also, I avoided short lengths because I thought my head was too big to be properly covered with a short wig.

A trip to a pro convinced me otherwise.

Annually, a local wig shop hosts a meeting of my support group. A few years ago, I was the hostess, which meant that I showed up early to bring the refreshments. I had no intention of buying a wig; it was just another opportunity to be out en femme, so I was happy to be the hostess and not necessarily a wig customer.

We had an excellent turn-out and new wigs were flying out the door throughout the evening. As things were winding down, the wig shop owner, Kathy, said it was my turn. She sat me down at a mirror and went to the back room to fetch a wig she thought would be perfect for me.

A few minutes later, she returned with a short blond wig.

I thought to myself, "Oh no; she's is making a mistake."

She pulled the wig over my head, finger-combed it a bit, and then let me look in the mirror.

In a very soft voice, I said, "Oh, my god!"

The wig looked absolutely fabulous on me and I did not think twice about purchasing it.

That wig (“Ryan” by Noriko) cost about $333, but it was worth every penny. It pushed my femulation skills up a few notches.

I lost count how many times people complimented me about my hair and how many times those same people were shocked to find out I was wearing a wig. (I never received such reactions wearing my $99 wigs.)

So the bottom line is (1) seek out a professional wig seller for advice concerning the best wig color, style and length for you and (2) be willing to spend much more than $99 for a wig.

The Million Dollar Question

Click on the image to make it bigger.

Boys' Girls' Night Out

Click on the image for a bigger laugh!

It’s not underwear anymore… it’s lingerie

 Click on the image to enlarge it.

The Highness of Heels

I love high heels.

The majority of my shoes are high heels and most of my heels are three to four inches in height.

I am very adept at walking in high heels.

I never had a problem walking in heels. From the first day I started wearing heels when I was a teenager, I took to them like a duck takes to webbed feet. I only wish that all my heels were as comfortable as I am walking in them.

That being said, the fall shoe styles have been showing up in the usual places on the Internet and I am in awe at the highness of this fall's heels. I cannot recall such a proliferation of heels over four inches in height (except maybe on the fetish shoe sales web sites). Lots of 4-1/2 heels and some topping the 5-inch mark on such non-fetish web sites as Spiegel, Newport-News, Metrostyle, Payless, Norstrom, Macy's, etcetera, etcetera.

The "new arrivals" at Newport-News (pictured above) are typical. From left to right is their patent stiletto platform pumps" with a 4-1/2-inch heel, a T-strap sandal with a 4-1/2-inch heel, a cutout ankle boot with a 5-inch heel, and a sequined platform pump with a 5-inch heel.

I really like the cutout ankle boot, but can I handle a 5-inch heel? One thing for sure: at 6'7", I would be outstanding in my heels!

Stop Sam the Clam Caligiuri

I do not mix politics with this blog unless it has a direct connection with transgender issues, so bear with me as I step onto the soapbox today.

Yesterday, Connecticut State Senator Sam "the Clam" Caligiuri won the Republican primary for the Fifth US Congressional District of Connecticut.

I live in the Fifth Congressional District that Sam the Clam would like to represent and I also live in the Connecticut State Senate district that Sam the Clam currently represents, so I have been following his political career closely over the years.

Sam the Clam would never get my vote because his political views represent the worst of the teabag wing of the GOP (Gang of Privateers). Normally, I would just cast my vote against the guy and not get into a discourse here or anywhere else about why I voted against him, but Sam the Clam is special; Sam the Clam has his guns sighted on the trans community and he must be stopped.

Sam the Clam has consistently voted against state legislation that protects the rights of transgenders.

In May 2007, the Connecticut State Senate passed the gender anti-discrimination bill by a 30-4 margin (it died in the State House of Representatives). Sam the Clam voted against it. He also voted against the bill when it came up for a vote in his committee (the Education Committee).

Based on his track record, Sam the Clam will vote against the protection of transgender rights if he has an opportunity to do so in the future. So, we must stop him from having another opportunity.

On the other hand, the man Sam the Clam is running against, Congressman Chris Murphy, has been a consistent supporter of transgender rights and deserves the support of the trans community of the Fifth Congressional District of Connecticut.

Please Stop Sam the Clam and vote for Chris Murphy.

So why "Sam the Clam"?

Strike One

When Sam was running for State Senate, he happened to be campaigning outside the local IGA one day when I happened to be grocery shopping. On the way into the IGA, I took his campaign literature and perused it while I shopped.

I noticed that nowhere in his campaign literature did it mention which political party he represented. This was during the darkest days of the Bush-Cheney administration and GOP candidates everywhere were trying to distance themselves as far away as possible from the frat boy in the White House. Sam the Clam was no different.

On the way out of the IGA, I asked Sam what party he represented because his campaign literature was lacking that information. Sam clammed up, refused to answer my question, and proceeded to ignore me.

Strike Two

When the the gender anti-discrimination bill was up for a vote, I wrote Sam a heartfelt letter asking him to support the bill.

I did not get a response until many months later. His response avoided the issues. Instead, he apologized for losing my letter and being unable to respond to it in a timely manner.

I did not have to wait for strike three; after strike two, Sam became "Sam the Clam" as far as I was concerned.