What’s on his mind is on his derriere

 

 

 

Jack Benny femulates as Gracie Allen on television’s The Jack Benny Show, circa 1955.

 

 

 

Wearing Dsquared2 (top and shorts) and Alexander Wang (shoes).

Pattern

Saturday morning, I stopped by my sister's apartment to drop off her Avon order and found her going through a box of stuff from my mother's apartment. (Mom died years ago, but only recently has my sister begun going through Mom's stuff.)

"Here --- this is yours," my sister said to me and handed me a stuffed manilla envelope.

"What is it?" I asked.

I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents: five old dress patterns for styles from the mid- to late-1960s.

"What do you mean these are mine?" I asked.

"Mommy bought them to make dresses for you," she explained.

"Huh!"

"She even made one dress for you --- this one," she said, as she pointed to one of the patterns I held in my hands.

"She was going to give it to you as a birthday gift. But then she changed her mind because she didn't want to embarrass you."

(Note that although my sister and I are very close, she does not support me much on the trans front.)

"So, she knew," I replied.

"Dad knew, too, and he talked her out of giving the dress to you."

I always suspected that my parents knew and now my suspicions were confirmed.

"Wow! What happened to the dress?" I asked.

"I have no idea," my sister replied, "Let's change the subject."

I don't know what was the next subject because my mind was still on the dress my mother made for me and how my life might have been different if I had only confided in her.

Femulator in street style circa 1964.

Wearing Phillip Lim.

It Suits Him Fine

Did you mean "soup bowl"?

What came first? The hen or the egg?

Trigger

I received an interesting and thought-provoking e-mail from Beverly commenting on my Sons post last Friday.

Regarding the nature versus nurture argument, Beverly falls on the nature side... that our gender gifts are a natural part of our persona and not the result of nurturing by our environment. However, Beverly added that "there has to be a 'trigger' somewhere to bring out whatever it is nature has gifted us with."

I wondered about my trigger. On Wednesday, I wrote here that discovering the world of female impersonators moved me to try female impersonation myself at the age of 12. However, I had been exploring my gender gifts years before that, so female impersonation was not necessarily my trigger. But it was so long ago, that I am not actually sure what was my trigger.

Digging way down deep in my memory, I can only recall one event that may have started it all.

I was probably between the ages of 6 and 9 and for a day or two, I wanted to be a circus clown when grew up. I remember I was home alone with my mother (my father and sister were out) and I covered my face with my mother's cold cream to simulate a clown's white face. What a mess!

I showed my handiwork to my mother and she volunteered to do a better job. She removed the cold cream and started anew applying various cosmetics to my face.

When she was done, I looked in the mirror and was shocked. Instead of looking like a clown, I looked like a girl. I still remember the bright red lipstick on my lips.

In retrospect, I am not sure if she realized what I was trying to do. I do not recall if I was clear about trying to be a clown. She may have thought I was trying to be a girl and acted accordingly.

Anyway, I was so embarrassed that I insisted that she remove the makeup before my father and sister returned home. She complied.

And I no longer wanted to be a circus clown when I grew up. I wanted to be a woman.

 

 

 

Professional femulator Windy Starr in 1965.

 

 

 

Wearing Cedric Charlier.

Second Time

After donning my mother's nylon stockings and high heel shoes and discovering that I was able to emulate the shapely legs of a woman just like the female impersonators of the 82 Club in New York City, I just had to push the envelope further.

The next time I was home free to explore my mother's wardrobe, I repeated my first time, that is, I slipped on a pair of her nylon stockings and high heel shoes.

I was well aware of the options available to women of the early 1960s to keep their nylons up and their seams straight. In my mother's case, she used the garters that were attached to a girdle.

I found her stash of girdles in a drawer of her bureau and had to choose from a variety of styles: open bottom, panty brief, long leg panty, high-waisted panty and high-waisted long-leg panty. I figured I needed all the help I could get, so I selected a high-waisted long-leg panty model.

I unzipped and unclasped the girdle, stepped into it and tugged it up over my legs, hips and waist. When I was finished squeezing into it, I closed its clasps and zipper with some difficulty. When I was done it felt like half of my torso was in the grips of a rubber vise.

After I attended to the nylons - straightening their seams and attaching them to the garters of the girdle - I swung open the closet door, viewed myself in the full-length mirror and concluded that the picture was incomplete.

The girdle had redistributed my "baby fat." As a result, my waist was narrower and my hips were wider, but above the waistband of the girdle, a ring of displaced fat encircled my body and ruined the picture.

I was sure I knew how to fix it --- it was time for my first bra!

My mother had a small selection of bras to choose from and they were all similar in style and size, so I randomly grabbed one and tried to figure out how to put it on.

I struggled unsuccessfully to close the bra's clasps while wearing the bra with its cups in front. So, I slipped the straps off my shoulders, twisted the bra around with the clasps in front of me, closed the clasps, twisted the bra back around, and slipped the straps over my shoulders --- and that’s the way I have been putting on a bra ever since.

After adjusting the straps of the bra, I was astonished that my breasts nearly filled the cups of the bra! My "boy boobs," which were the object of ridicule by my peers, now had a safe place to call "home."

And when I revisited the full-length mirror, the picture was now complete; there was the body of a shapely woman in the mirror's reflection.

 

 

 

Femulator in 1965 street style.

 

 

 

Wearing Romwe.

First Time

When I was 12-years-old, I became fascinated with female impersonation when I noticed weekly thumbnail-sized ads in the New York Daily News for 82 Club. Each ad depicting  a glamorous showgirl accompanied by the caption "Who's No Lady?"

The 82 Club showgirls were female impersonators and I was amazed that a male could emulate a glamorous female! I was so impressed that I began clipping the 82 Club ads out of the newspaper each week and hiding them behind the Washington Senators in the box containing my baseball card collection.

One thing led to another and one afternoon when I was home alone, I went into my parent's bedroom and opened the drawer of my mother's bureau where she stored her nylon stockings. (This was in the days before pantyhose and seamless stockings, so her nylons had seams.)

I carefully slipped a stocking up each of my hairless legs (those were the days!) and straightened the seams. When I was done, I opened my mother's closet door to admire myself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the door.

I liked what I saw: a pair of legs that looked just like a pair of woman's legs! Then I realized that I could do even better.

Inside the closet were stacks of shoeboxes containing my mother's shoes. I carefully looked through the boxes for a pair of high heel pumps. When I found a pair (with a three-inch heel), I slipped them on and revisited the full-length mirror.

Not only did I see a pair of woman's legs in the mirror, but they were now a shapely pair of woman's legs! I proved to myself that that a male really could emulate a female.

I quickly, but carefully removed the shoes and stockings and returned them to their proper place before my family returned home. And I assure you that would not be the last time I would visit my mother's bureau, closet and full-length mirror.

 

 

 

Two 1966 advertisements for the 82 Club.

 

 

 

Wearing Leota.

Help Make A Film

My name is Daniela. I am a student from Sussex University in the UK. I am writing and directing my own first short film that will be my graduation film and portfolio for future projects.

This film is about Marjorie, a male-to-female transgender, and about how she deals with the prejudice from society and how she revenges the men that attacked and bullied her. The film hopes to raise awareness about transgender prejudice and by being entered in film festivals, we hope to reach an even wider audience.

We are raising funds for the film as we are all students and can't afford much; and we are so close to reach the goal! There are still few days to go to hopefully reach it!

All contributions so far have been mostly from friends and family. I think the readers of your blog might be interested in donating because of the good cause it is for.

The link for donations is http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/pupa-short-film

The website accepts Paypal and credit cards and there are perks to be selected depending on the amount of the donation such as DVDs, posters and etc.

Thank you.

 

 

 

Robert and Cole femulating for Christmas.

 

 

 

Wearing Giambattista Valli.

Pronouns

It hit me like a ton of bricks while I was reading Gabrielle's account about coming out to her parents and reminding them to use female pronouns when she was in female form.

Family members who are closest to me (my wife, daughter and sister) already use female pronouns when they refer to me even when I am in boy mode. This has been going on for years and I always assumed that they had misspoken.

But then came the ton of bricks and I realized that they did not mispeak. This is not an occasional or rare slip of the tongue; they refer to me using female pronouns almost all the time.

My family considers me to be one of the girls and refers to me as such even when I am disguised as a boy!

 

 

 

John Carroll Lynch femulating on television’s The Drew Carey Show in 1997.

 

 

 

Wearing Madeleine.

If the shoe fits...

Grayson Perry Femulates To Receive CBE From Prince Charles

I love this story. It illustrates why Grayson Perry is one of my idols.

The story is all over the Internet; here are a few from the UK:

Daily Mail: Grayson Perry wears 'mother of bride' outfit to receive CBE from Prince Charles

The Telegraph: Grayson Perry collects CBE in 'Italian mother of the bride' outfit

Belfast Telegraph: Video: Grayson Perry collects CBE in 'mother of the bride' outfit

Not-So-Vintage SX-70 Selfies

I bought a Polaroid SX-70 camera in 1974. The film was expensive: $7 for each film pack of ten pictures, which calculates to $35 in 2014 dollars! But I was young and single and could afford a film pack once in awhile.

I built my own remote control so I could take "SX-70 selfies" to document my dressing skills. Most of the SX-70 selfies were lost in the great purge of 1983 and I only have a handful of selfies that I took post-purge.

The camera bit the dust in 1985 and so ended my SX-70 photography.

A Christmas gift, a collection of postcards depicting vintage SX-70  photos, sparked my interest in the art of vintage SX-70 photography and I began perusing the Internet for samples. As a result, I discovered that a lot of people were way ahead of me and I found lots of vintage SX-70 photos online.

I wondered if anyone had tried using Photoshop to make current photos look like vintage SX-70 photos. Again, I discovered that a lot of people were ahead of me.

After checking out a number of online Photoshop tutorials, I chose one that  looked promising (Photoshop tutorial: Create the Polaroid effect for images by Ryan Boudreaux) and tried it with a recent photo of me taken in a hotel room. (How kitschy can I get?)

I was happy with the results and decided to share the final product with you (above).

 

 

 

Femulators being arrested for “masquerading and indecent exposure”
while attending a 1962 Halloween ball in New York City.

 

 

 

Wearing Nicholas (gown), Marc by Marc Jacobs (earrings) and Schutz (pumps).

Sons

When we were pregnant, I hoped our child would be female because I thought that since I was a very feminine male, I would be a poor role model if our child was male.

As it turned out, our child was female, which was a big relief. (She also turned out to be my biggest supporter. She told me that if I ever decided to transition that she would support my decision wholeheartedly.)

If our child was male, I am sure that having a feminine father would have some effect on his life. How much of an effect, I'll never know.

Would having a father who had feminine mannerisms cause the boy to have feminine mannerisms?

Are (my) feminine mannerisms natural or nurtured?

My father was not feminine, but he was not around much during my early years.  However, my mother was very present during those years and if I was going to take after anyone, it seems that I would take after the parent who was present, not absent.

My theoretical son would have a double whammy --- both his parents were feminine, so if nurturing was the source of femininity, then my son would potentially be even more feminine than I am.

Feminine mannerisms are one thing, but what would be the effect of having a father who was feminine and who also presented as a woman at the drop of a chapeau?

Goddess only knows.

And if my son turned out to be feminine --- like father, like son --- would it be the end of the world?

You girls out there who have sons are better able to answer these questions than I. So please have at it by leaving Comments to this post.

 

 

Actor Bryan Schmiderer femulating in the 2013
stage production of Southern Baptist Sissies.

 

 

 

Wearing Madeleine.