Femulating Mom

Fortunato Castro femulating his mother

A lot of us femulate our mothers to some degree. I, for one, wear styles that my mother would wear. And growing up under her tutelage, I act like the lady she was.

A 27-year-old artist named Fortunato Castro femulated his mother for his senior thesis at Cooper Union. He "turned his lens on himself, for a series of powerful self-portraits. But, unlike most self-portraits, he posed in an unusual way: as his mother.”

You can read all about it and see a slideshow at The Cut.

Anti-Aging

On Tuesday, Daily Makeover had some excellent advice about makeup mistakes that make you look older. I don't know about you, but at my age, I want to look younger, not older, so I am taking their advice to heart.

Daily Makeover is a good source for good advice on hair and makeup. I subscribe to their daily e-mails and I recommend a free subscription to any girl who wants to improve her femulating skills.

Nailing It

I am a big fan of the Kiss brand of pre-glued press-on nails. They go on quick, stray on forever and are large enough to cover my Amazonian finger nails. But lately, they have been scarce.

I usually purchase my Kiss pre-glued press-on nails at CVS, Rite Aid or Walgreen, but for the past month or so, they have been missing from the racks of those stores. They have other Kiss brand nail products on their racks, but not the pre-glued press-ons that I know and love.

The Kiss website stills show them, so either my stores are no longer carrying them or there was a big run on them during the holidays.

My personal stock of nails is running low, so I wanted to find out what was going on. I went online to check the stores' websites and bingo! I struck paydirt at the first website I visited. Walgreen has them in stock and they are on sale: $3.17 per set.

I cannot recall them ever being that cheap, so I ordered enough sets to qualify for free shipping ($25 minimum) and await their delivery in 3 to 5 days.

Stop Me If You Heard This One Before

Meanwhile, here is a story about me buying Kiss nails at Rite Aid last year. (This is a rerun, but some of you might have missed it.)

The cashier was a middle-aged woman like myself and as she rang up my purchase, she joked,

"Doing your nails?"

Although I knew she was joking, I responded, "Yes, they're for me. I do drag."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. I wish I had a photo to show you."

I don't know if she believed me or not, but since then i made sure that I have a photo of me en femme handy on my iPhone.

Professional femulator Billy Bigwood in 1921.

Wearing Nha Khanh.

A Road Less Traveled - Part 2

By Michelle

Before telling my girlfriend, of course, I was dressing secretly at home fearing her sudden return, but eventually I took the courage and went to a “closed” meeting of our sisterhood. This was a step up again and I was very nervous. 

What was I scared of? I guess I was worried that somebody I knew would see me there. Although the obvious reply is that I would also see them, therefore, we’d both be in the same situation. Anyway, I got there, changed in the room allocated for doing so and went to meet the others. I found it a little uncomfortable and to be honest, a bit of a let-down. 

My immediate reaction was to leave (can you imagine that after all the build-up?), but I stuck it out and stayed for most of the evening. In those days, those meetings were the only meeting anywhere closer than London (a two-hour drive each way for me). So despite it being very low key and only held monthly (and not at all in December), I became a regular, gradually meeting friends there.

The next stage were “closed” weekends away, although on my first visit, I only went for the Saturday, coming home in the late afternoon. It was during these events that I left the hotel and for the first time walked out in the general public, first under the cover of darkness and then in broad daylight. What a site I must have been – although I have always not gone too over the top, my skirt was probably a bit too short and my wig was of a poor quality. However, once I was out I walked around for three hours and although I’m sure I was, I was not aware of being read. I walked back into the hotel elated and wanted to tell everyone about it. But that isn’t so easy because everyone else also wanted to talk about their adventures of the day.

These weekends (and they became full weekends as I got there on Friday evening and stayed until Sunday morning) became regulars for me and I became more confident and I hope more presentable. I had various steps up and little victories. The first one I really remember was when a man held a door open for me and smiled sweetly (a man’s never smiled at me in that way when I’ve been in male mode). A second was when I went with my wife and another man held a door for us and said “there you are, ladies” – priceless! 

On another day I went with my wife for a girls’ day out clothes shopping and we also went into a pub for lunch. I had never done this before and as always, I was very nervous. I followed my wife into a crowded bar where she was told there were tables available in the next room. Before I knew it she had disappeared into this room leaving me to follow her to a dining area with about 20 tables most of which were full. My heart was in my mouth as I expected everyone to stop and look at me in astonishment. When they didn’t my heartbeat went down to a steady “incredibly fast” and I gathered myself as a waitress, without a hesitation, took us to a table. We had a wonderful spot and I remember looking out at the winter sun as swans swam in the river that flowed past the window. Life just didn’t get better than this. What a long way from guiltily dressing in my mother’s bedroom some 35 years earlier.

In more recent years, I regularly go  out shopping on my own and rarely get a second glance (although I usually half expect the world is going to stop and I take a big breath inwards when I get out of my car). If necessary, I even start conversations with others. A few years ago I was walking around the shops when a woman came up to me to ask me directions and she did not hesitate for a second as my none too feminine voice replied. In fact, we continued in a normal conversation as she asked further questions. I have been asked for directions on more than one occasion when en femme.

Considering how little I spend of my life out en femme, this is a high proportion of the time compared with when I am in male mode. It seems that not only do men not ask for directions, they do not get asked for them much either! I guess it’s because a woman you don’t know is very unlikely to give you trouble – a man may be an unknown quantity when approached in this way. 

One thing that I do enjoy, although this again can be a very nerve-racking place to be, are conversations that women have whilst waiting in the ladies for a cubicle to become free, and afterwards, whilst waiting for a wash basin or a mirror. If a man spoke to another in this way in the gents room, he may get some funny looks and would definitely be assumed to have the “gay” gene! Often the conversations are on the same subject – how there is such a queue for the women whilst the men don’t have to wait? Partly because they often don’t wash their hands, I would suggest (ugh!)

More recently, I have gone up to another level again and go to a pub on Saturday evenings to enjoy a drink and a dance to the DJ. Admittedly, it is a partly gay pub and there are other sisters there, but it is very liberating to be able to dance without feeling a little inhibited as I might if in male mode. Once again, women start conversations with you, sometimes because they have obviously read you, but occasionally they haven’t, or at least are prepared to treat you as another woman. 

On one occasion, I was speaking to a woman whilst her friend (who incidentally was in a wonderful Audrey Hepburn Breakfast at Tiffany’s style LBD) was being chatted up a by a male. The first woman was watching this with a look of contempt for him, leant closer to me and whispered, “That bloke’s a w*****.” I don’t approve of this language, but if ever a situation made me feel accepted by womankind, it was this. Insulting a man by a woman who is expecting my agreement – I thoroughly enjoyable moment. It’s a situation like that, though, that also helps me partly understand some of the difficulties women can experience with men “on the pull” on a Saturday evening. When the two women left later, we hugged and passed compliments to each other.

Being out in a pub on a Saturday night is always a “heart in my mouth” moment as I first enter the door to the bar and there have been occasions when I’ve been a little concerned by someone’s behaviour. Generally though, these nights have been great fun and despite being a very shy person, I have spoken to many women in a “girls together” way, which has been uplifting. 

As others have said here, in recent times there does seem to be a gradual increase in acceptance of us and provided we are reasonably convincing and don’t dress inappropriately, we will minimise the risks involved.

Apart from the experiences I have described, I’ve also attended balls, been taken out to lunch by a male friend (both on my “bucket list”) and even attempted karaoke (see photo) – well we all make mistakes! Although there are still things I haven’t done en femme such as travelling on public transport, going to a wedding or on a night out with a group of RGs/GGs (and who knows if I ever will), the adventures I have had have been wonderful. 

Like so many others, I started on my journey en femme too late, but now being in my mid-50s, I am aware of my mortality and aim to make up for lost time. I advise you to do the same – but always be sensitive of not imposing your "hobby" too much on others, which is a difficult path to keep to.

Femulators in the United Kingdom, circa 1975.

Wearing Alice + Olivia.

A Road Less Traveled - Part 1

By Michelle

After reading Paula’s mid-January account of her few days away, it brought to mind how I have also journeyed further and further into the feminine world over time.

My earliest recollections are putting on my mum’s apron and lipstick in a bungalow we moved from just before my 6^th birthday (so I must have been young) and being excited when seeing my then comedy heroes Morcambe and Wise femulating in wigs, makeup, evening dresses and matching long gloves (when I must have been a similar age). 

In the former instance my mother saw the lipstick and took me immediately to the bathroom and washed it off, making it quite clear that this was not the thing for me to do. 

As I grew, my mother’s clothes and shoes went from being too big, to being the right size (for an all too brief period) to being too small. I never got the chance to leave the house dressed whilst of school age and took some stupid risks when dressing upstairs whilst my parents were downstairs, always telling myself I could change quickly enough if I heard them coming (of course, that was completely unrealistic – had they decided to come upstairs, I would have no time to revert to my male self).

My first venture out en femme was when I was about 17 or 18 when my parents had gone out and under the cover of darkness I drove my car around the block and back into the garage.  A great thrill, but then I admonished myself for being so foolhardy and never did anything like that again while I lived at home, limiting myself to dressing within our four walls. 

Eventually my luck ran out when my parents went out to buy something from the shops. Assuming they would be gone for at least half an hour I dressed and was in my mother’s bedroom when I heard somebody coming up the stairs. I tried to run back to my room, but as I passed the top of the stairs I saw it was my mother, who had returned early as the shop had been shut, and she saw me. 

For those of you that have suffered this, you may have experienced the embarrassment I endured as I went downstairs later to talk to my parents – my worst nightmare had been realized. My parents, however, despite always previously showing complete disgust for any man who “dressed up as a woman” on television, were surprisingly supportive. I had feared they might disown me, but they didn’t. My dad said if I had those feelings again, I should go for a walk until they went away (my dad was very British – and I love him for it) and my mum offered me psychiatric help. 

Now you may feel these are rather negative reactions and I guess they are, but my parents experienced the war and the austerity of the post-war period and basically came from a very much less permissive era. They were also very introverted and shy and this was an experience that was new to them (as far as I’m aware). They were trying to help as best they could.

Partly as a result of the shock of being discovered by my parents that day and then meeting my first girlfriend a few weeks later, my desire to dress disappeared completely and I didn’t do so for 18 months! That was until I went to stay with her for a long weekend whilst she was at college. She had to work one morning and while she was out I noticed some gorgeous shoes on the floor of her bedroom – well that was that! 

Before I knew it I was dressed again, this time not in the rather boring clothes that my mother had, but in fashionable flowing skirts, flowery blouses and a full range of makeup – bought by a female of my own age. This was a much more exciting experience. I was hooked once again.

My girlfriend was not aware of my other self when three years later we were married. It was 7 years after that when I told her of my crossdressing. There followed a difficult time as she came to terms with the situation, but gradually she accepted the full me. Although given the choice, she would rather I stopped, she accompanies me on my outings whenever it is convenient for her to do so and generally is very positive about them.

Part 2 of Michelle's "A Road Less Traveled" will be here tomorrow.

Femulators in the United Kingdom, circa 1970.

Wearing Alice + Olivia.

The Long and Short of It

 

 

 

 

Actor Stanley Burleson (right) femulating in a German
stage production of La Cage aux Folles, 2010.

 

 

 

Wearing Madeleine.

Good Vibrations

I went to the local Payless shoe store during lunch yesterday to buy men's sneakers.

If you are not familiar with the layout of a Payless store, in this neck of the woods the men's shoes occupy one wall of the store and the rack across the aisle from the men's wall of shoes contains the largest size women's shoes (up to size 13). Either way, that is my aisle.

So, I am in the middle of the aisle perusing the sneakers and trying on the ones that look like they have potential to make my feet happy.

I am the only customer in the store, when in walks a middle-aged gent, who proceeds down my aisle. He briefly glances at some shoes on the men's wall and then continues down to the end of the aisle and around the corner to parts unknown.

I continue to pull paper padding out of sneakers and try them on my left foot, which is my fit testing foot. (As they say, "What's good for the left foot is good for the right foot.")

A minute or two later, the gent appears at the head of the aisle, but hesitates walking down the aisle when he sees me still at it.

Suddenly, my transgender radar unit started vibrating and I had to reach into my purse to shut it off as the gent quickly exited the store.

True story (mostly).

 

 

 

Femulating during The Great Depression.

 

 

 

Wearing Moschino (top), Diane von Furstenberg (shorts),
Stuart Weitzman (shoes) and Tory Burch (bag).

Things To Come

Femulating in public is more common today than it was yesterday and I predict that femulating in public will become even more common tomorrow. There are two or three reasons for increased public emulating.

One Reason

Every day, older femulators are discovering that the world does not end when they step outside en femme. It turns out that it was a lot easier than they thought and as a result, they all regret not taking that first step earlier (I know I did).

My countless outings en femme, as well as outings by girls like Paula, Kimberly, Janie, Meg, et al, who don't think twice about being pretty in public, have, by example encouraged indoor femulators to try femulating outdoors. The more we femulate in public, the more others will try it.

Another Reason

Younger femulators do not need much encouragment. They grew up in a world where the fluidity in gender and sexuality among their peers is accepted rather than excepted (like when old ladies like me were growing up). As a result, they already know that the world will not end when they step outside en femme. The only thing holding them back is deciding which skirt to wear today.

Still Another Reason

Males, who are not femulators, are femulating in public unintentionally by adopting items in their wardrobe that were formerly considered feminine. Today, fashionable males may be seen in public wearing makeup, handbags,  jewelry, skirts, skinny jeans, leggings, tights, pantyhose, high heels, etc. --- all items that were considered strictly "girly" a generation ago.

This growing number of unintentional femulators just further encourages intentional femulators to do their thing.

In Conclusion

Whereas, in the not-too-distant past, I seldom encountered another femulator in public, nowadays, I often encounter other femulaors when I am out. And I expect that in the near future, we will be everywhere!

Actor Tyler Mynard femulating as Miss Bible Belt on stage in Pageant: The Musical, 2012.

Wearing Lele Rose.

Confirmation

I watched the Golden Globe Awards show Sunday night. I never miss it… same with the Oscars.

Comedians Tina Fey and Amy Poehler hosted the event. During their opening remarks, Amy said, “A very good evening to everyone here in the room and to all the women and gay men watching at home.”

When I heard that, I double-checked my sexuality. Since I am not a gay man, I must be a woman. Amy Poehler confirmed it!

Seriously, though, my interests lie on what many would consider the feminine side of the street and less so on the masculine side. Film and fashion are among my interests, so that is why I watch the Golden Globes and the Oscars.

I have feminine speech and mannerisms to go along with my so-called feminine interests. And as I have written here in the past, I am probably the most feminine male that most of my acquaintances know or, at least, I am in the top three on their femme guy lists. So for those who know me in boy mode, it is no surprise when I show up wearing a dress, makeup and heels --- it just completes the picture.

 

 

 

Fashion designer, model, and always amazing Phillipe Blond.

 

 

 

Clothing by Nicholas, body by Fisher.

Feel like a woman. Wear a dress!

By Paula Gaikowski

Being middle-aged, boring and oh so predictable, I of course, went to the MAC store at the Fashion Valley Mall the second night in town. Wait a second, did I say, “Boring and predictable?” I’m going to have to reassess that statement. Any middle-aged man, who throws caution to the wind and frolic’s cross country as a middle-aged woman can’t be pegged as boring and predictable. Crazy maybe, the jury is still out.

I don’t want to sound like an advertisement for MAC, nevertheless they were wonderful as usual. I spent about an hour with a young woman working on a winter look for my eyes. She had never met a transgender person before and I spent the time telling her my story. She asked me a ton of questions. Are you gay? What does your wife think? How old were you when you started? And of course. the well-known “Are going to get the operation?” She was a sweetheart and we hugged when parting.

The Cheesecake Factory was convenient, so I enjoyed another nice meal there. I was seated at a table and in front of me was a huge mirror that provided a view of the restaurant. I’m always curious what others think of my presentation, so I kept scanning the room looking for the stares or whispers. Happily I didn’t notice anything like that. I finally relaxed and sat there gazing with wonder into the mirror at the woman across from me.

My last night there, I put on my favorite Jones New York suit and headed out to a See’s Candies to buy a hostess gift for the holidays. The sales associate was a handsome fellow and was super helpful as we went through the list I brought in with me. He Ma’am’d me several times, so I was delighted.

I stopped by Macy’s and visited the NARs counter. I had been looking for a lip gloss to give my lips some added dimension and thought I would visit my old favorite makeup counter. I spent about 20 minutes trying a few different shades and walked away with a $26 tube of lip gloss. I do love being spoiled and treated special by the sales associate,s but is it worth $26?

Finally, the last stop on my last night there was, girlfriends?  …yes, Nordstrom! If I was going to advise novice girls on their first steps out in to the world, I would suggest your first two visits, whether in drab or en femme should be MAC and Nordstrom. 

I had no intention of trying on any gowns that evening, but was assisted by a vivacious sales associate named Ashley. As we scanned the racks for a long sleeve gown, she peppered me with questions about the event I needed a dress for, along with the color and date. I quickly invented a story about my niece’s wedding back east in February. She pulled three long gowns and then she asked the question you never ask a transgender girl, “Would you like try to some of these dresses on?” 

So, I’m thinking, “Is the Pope Catholic?” I hesitated for a bit and then she started to insist, “Oh, it’s no trouble. Let me start a room.” 

“Yes, Ashley, please start a room.” 

I don’t know about you girls, but you don’t have to asd me a third time to try on beautiful designer gowns. Off we went. 

I tried on four different gowns and Ashley took pictures of three. Ashley was playful and a lot of fun. When I tried on the Adrianna Papell you see here, I felt so pretty. Ashley remarked “Oh, wow. That dress works for you. Your hips, look at those boobies.” 

“Gosh, wow. Is that how ladies talk in the dressing rooms,” I thought. I was highly complemented, but also a little bit self-conscious by her observation. 

Her salesmanship was effective and I decided to buy the dress I was in love with it. Guess what, girls? I then saw the price tag ($540). Sadly, I had to decline. It just was too much for my budget. Ashley was happy to help me and understood the economics of it all. It was an enjoyable way to end my visit to San Diego and I have a special memory.

(For more Paula, visit flickr to see her collection of photos.)

Charles Busch femulating on stage in Shanghai Moon, 1999.

Wearing Madeleine.

Ms. Gaikowski, your table is ready

By Paula Gaikowski

Every Friday I work from home and get to spend a few hours en femme. While I do enjoy these quiet times nothing beats some real quality girl time out and about. So after several weeks of not traveling, I was overjoyed to hear that I was going to San Diego for a class. 

Monday was my travel day and I debated flying en femme. The only reason I didn’t was because of the distance. I had a layover in Houston and the whole trip would take about eight hours. The first time I do fly en femme, I want it to be a short trip. However, I am at a point now where I feel confident enough to fly without any misgivings or fears.

I landed in San Diego at 12 PM and arrived at the hotel by 1 PM. I opened my suitcase and pulled back a thin layer of male clothes and then drew out a dancer’s garment bag that held Paula’s wardrobe for the next week. 

I decided to wear my houndstooth skirt and black turtleneck. I made my way down to the lobby to get a bottle of water. As the door to the elevator opened, I was hit by a stench of smoke. I stood there perplexed for a moment and then noticed the place was crawling with smokejumpers from the U.S. Forest Service. They were staying at the hotel for training classes and were on a break. So forward I marched into a crowd of about 30 macho guys, confident and secure in my womanhood. I picked a bottle of water from the cooler and smiled to the young woman at the desk

“Please put this on room 312”

“Sure no problem,” she smiled back at me while busy with a 100 other tasks.

I collected my purse, swung it over my shoulder and made my way to the exit. The room was loud and the crowd was bustling and hectic. Then to my delight, one of the firefighters standing near the door reached over and politely held it open. 

I remember the first time I got a ma’am’d; it was incredibly validating, but to receive this social courtesy typically afforded women truly made my day. 

I smiled and waved demurely and chimed out, “Thank you, sir.”

In a clear west Texas accent I heard a baritone, “Welcome, Ma’am.”

I guess what was all so exhilarating and exciting is that for most of my life I never thought I would ever leave the house dressed as a woman. I lived with such fear and shame that the thought of being accepted and treated respectfully as a women seemed foreign and unattainable. 

Only a few short years ago (in 2009), I was afraid even to buy makeup. I truly treasure exchanges like this and it is with heartfelt sincerity that I say that I treasure and feel privileged to be addressed as a woman. 

The day was off to a great start and couldn’t get any better. I decided to take a ride to the University of San Diego and pick up a sweatshirt for a friend at the bookstore. The store closed at 6 PM, so I hurried on my way. 

The university is huge and beautiful. The campus has acres of manicured lawns and pristine walkways. I spent about 30 minutes walking and taking it all in the architecture, the landscaping and all of the young people filled with such optimism and hope. After surrendering to the reality that I wasn’t going to stumble upon the bookstore, I stopped and asked a young woman for help. She started to give me directions, but then gave up and invited me to walk along with her. We had a pleasant chat as we walked along together,

“This is a beautiful campus,” I offered in hopes of initiating a conversation. 

“It’s 182 acres and designed in 16th century Spanish Renaissance architecture. San Diego was first discovered in 1542 by the Spanish, years before the Pilgrims arrived in Plymouth,” she offered.

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “Not your typical zoned-out college kid.”

“You must be either an architecture or history major?” I suggested.

“Neither” she responded, “I’m in Elementary Education.”

My eyes lit up and before I could get the words back into my mouth, they were out there.

“Oh, my wife teaches 1st grade,” I laughed inside for outing myself, nevertheless I kept going.

“You’re going to make a wonderful teacher,” I finished.

I could see on her face that I had answered any doubt and filled in any blanks she had about this tall blond. With that, however, her smile seemed to grow a little brighter and her conversations a bit more animated as she asked me about my wife’s school, class and career. We arrived in front of the bookstore and parted ways with cordial pleasantries.

I’m sure she realized I was transgender and it encourages me to see that the next generation is supportive and accepting of transgender people.

I headed over to the Fashion Valley Mall and decided on the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. There was a queue for tables, so I sat and waited amongst dozens of dinners. I busied myself with my phone and sat there with my legs demurely crossed. 

As I was sitting there, I remembered reading the webpages of a girl named Gabrielle Romani back in the 90’s. She always went to Cheesecake Factory en femme. I remember thinking, “There’s no way I could ever, ever do that!” But here I was proving there is hope for everyone.

“Ms. Gaikowski, your table is ready.”

Actor Greg Armstrong Morris (center) femulating on stage in La Cage aux Folles, 2012.

Wearing Made

First They Look at the Purse... Not

The always elegant Christopher Morley.

Wearing Madeleine.