Going Straight

By Gina V

When I stopped working for the man and embarked on the road less-travelled, it was not exactly coincidental that it took me to a provincial city that happened to have the largest and best-known gay scene in the country. As they say, “where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” so I deduced there would be a fairly active transvestite one within it. And my intuition proved me correct. So once I had broken the ice,* I filled my (3-inch) boots accordingly.

However, if taking a diversion into Straightsville was ever going to be an option, I knew that would always be a much tougher task. For unlike the gay scene, there would be no quarter given and experiencing such a trip without being subjected to ridicule (or worse) depended on being 100% convincing in every way. 

Plus, unlike others in my position (like Stana, for example), despite being informed on numerous occasions that I could pass when dressed, my chronic low self- esteem told me otherwise. Not to mention the fear of experiencing a similar fate to the soldier who goes AWOL by disguising himself as a woman in the film The Triple Echo! Therefore, my few steps into that world were taken very gingerly.

My first experience was going out with my landlord (who was in “mufti”) one afternoon in his car to visit a trans chum of his. With that in mind, I wore a much shorter wig and far less makeup than usual (in the hope of looking more like my sister than Joan Collins) plus a sober grey skirt suit to try and blend in with the scenery. 

But, as if being out in Straightsville in broad daylight for the first time wasn’t scary enough, he insisted on stopping on the way to visit an off license in one of the roughest parts of town – leaving me on my own in the car, where suddenly the windows seemed to get a lot larger. Despite making sure the doors were locked, I was petrified that a gang of youths would come around the corner any second, immediately twig what I was and then smash the windows to drag me out onto the street for a good kicking! But we made it back home with said friend being another who complimented me on my convincingness.

My second (and final) daytime exposure was when I wanted to get a new wig from a salon in the city center and my landlord (who was again driving in mufti) advised me that I would only really know if one suited me if I were dressed for the occasion. So again, I tried to present myself as best I could (perhaps, my hemline could have been a bit lower in retrospect!) in order to merge in seamlessly with the many shoppers and others going about their business. Even so, the walk of a few hundred yards from car park to shop was an ordeal of fire, with me half-expecting a lynch mob to give chase at any moment. However, we arrived at the salon without incident and I wore my new purchase as we made our way back to the car (again, without anyone seemingly being phased).

As a result of that, one thing I learned that can head suspicious straights off at the pass is to step out in the company of a man. Especially one that is straight (or at least straight-acting/looking). I was once out on the local gay scene with an admirer and we queued to get into a club on a night transvestites were admitted free of charge, while everyone else had to pay. And when it came to my turn, the doorman informed me it would cost me two quid!** As such, when my companion walked me through the city center afterwards, it was no surprise that no one batted an eyelid at what they saw as an ordinary couple heading home after a night on the town.

So on the odd occasion out and about in Straightsville, I have managed to get away with it visually. However, the voice is the enemy of the convincing crossdresser! Although I can sing a lot higher than most men (and in a more-than-passable female tone to boot), sadly, I know that I need to work on my femme speaking voice. And as such, I envy my American cousins for their casual drawl allied to relative-freedom to express themselves emotionally, which means they are more likely to succeed in that regard than stiff upper-lipped Limeys. So until now, that has been a good reason why my sorties into Straightsville have been few and far between.

However, as one whose trans persona is becoming ever more apparent, maybe the time has come to try and overcome that hurdle in order that my public appearances are no longer restricted to gay zones? As they say: Watch this space…

* On my first night out on said scene, someone told me I looked like Monica Lewinsky!
** I now wish I had just paid up rather than protested – ha ha

Wearing Boston Proper

Brian Deacon femulating in the 1972 UK film The Triple Echo.

Someday Funnies

Wearing Brandon Maxwell

Marcie, a Femulate reader

When “Crossdressing” Becomes Just “Dressing”

Modern womenswear and menswear

Today, most females dress as males did in the past – wearing pants, flats, minimal or no makeup, shorter hairstyles, shaved heads, etc. Meanwhile, some males today dress like females did in the past – wearing skirts and dresses, heels, handbags, makeup, longer hair, etc. 

In the past, these females and males would be considered “crossdressers.” However, for a long time, females have been getting away with dressing like males without being called out as crossdressers. The old saw says that when a female dresses like a male, she is attempting to emulate the superior sex and is applauded, rather than derided for her efforts. So when a females dress as males did in the past, it is just considered “dressing” not crossdressing.

On the other hand, femininely-dressed males are still called crossdressers even though feminine male styles have been gaining popularity for awhile. The antithesis of the old saw says that when a male dresses like a female, he is demeaning himself because he is trying to emulate the inferior sex and as a result, he is mocked.  

But times are changing. Females are gaining on males. They are catching up and often surpassing males in many endeavors. 

When I started working in the 1970s, my managers were all males and they reported to males. There were very few females in managerial positions. Before I retired 35 years later, my managers were all females and they reported to females. Females filled many managerial positions company-wide.

The days of male superiority/female inferiority are numbered. As a result, slowly, but surely, males dressing in a “feminine” manner will be just that, dressing not crossdressing and thus, turning that old saw on its head. 

Will males dressing like males dressed in the past, that is, like empowered females dress, be considered crossdressing? Maybe not because a new version of that old saw says that when a male dresses like a modern empowered female, he is attempting to emulate the superior sex and is applauded, rather than derided for his efforts.

And so it goes.

Wearing Stella McCartney

Tim Hovey (right) femulating in the 1956 film Everything But the Truth.

No Roadtrip Again

In past years, I would have begun my annual 750-mile roadtrip to Dayton, Ohio, this morning to attend the biggest ham radio convention in the world. But due to the pandemic, Hamvention was cancelled again this year.

Attending Hamvention gives me the opportunity to present as a woman for five days. Needless to say, that extended stay en femme is something I always look forward to and have sorely missed in 2020 and again in 2021. (The photo above is the gang at our booth at Hamvention two years ago.)

Due to my age, my family is urging me to fly rather than drive to Dayton in the future, so next year my “roadtrip” could be decidedly different if I take their advice. I am sure I will enjoy flying as a woman for the first time. And it will allow me to check off another entry on my bucket list.

Actually, there are not many undone items left on my bucket list. A lot of the undones are low priority; it is not important to me whether I ever accomplish them or not. Maybe it’s time to revisit y list and edit it accordingly.

Wearing Zimmermann

Jawn Galliano

Speaking English

By Celeste

You’re right to say that here in Britain, we call what you call “pantyhose,” we call “tights.” You ask as to what we call what you call “tights” and the rather confusing answer is “tights.” 

It’s up to the listener or reader to judge as to whether the speaker or writer is referring to what you would call pantyhose or what you would call tights. It will usually be pantyhose. What you call tights might sometimes be called “dance tights” to make it clear as to what is being referred to, but this would only occasionally be the case.

There are quite a lot of transatlantic differences in terminology, of course. Some which are found with regard to what we wear.

In Britain “pumps” are gym shoes, worn by both men and women. What you call “pumps” have traditionally been called “court shoes” in Britain, but that is a term falling out of use and shoes with heels are now usually simply referred to as “heels” or more specifically, the type of heel – kitten, high, stiletto, etc.   

“Hose” is a term rarely used in speech in Britain, but “hosiery” is sometimes used on signage in stores and in catalogues/catalogs.

Ladies’ stockings are held up by wearing a “suspender belt” not, as you would say, a “garter belt” with suspenders clipped onto the stocking. Garters are individual elasticated and usually highly decorative bands worn on one leg, ostensibly, to hold up the stocking but, actually, purely for decorative adornment. A very different type of garter used to be worn by men just below the knee to keep their socks up – a practice which finally died out here in the early 1950s.

Women and girls in Britain rarely refer to wearing “panties,” though may occasionally refer to them as “pants.” They are referred to as a “panty” in the context of “panty liners,” but otherwise, girls and women refer to them as “knickers.” Unlike in the USA, where Imen and boys are more likely to wear what you would call “knickers,” here in Britain the term “knickers” can have the same implicit erotic undertone as “panties” may have with you. Only in certain parts of northern England are men’s underpants still occasionally called “knickers” in common parlance.

So British women and girls are most likely to refer to their panties as knickers, but they are sold as “briefs,” a term the wearers may occasionally use.

As to underwear generally, I notice that women in the USA sometimes refer to ladies’ underwear as “lahngeray.” In Britain, it’s pronounced “lawngeree.” Both pronunciations are wrong – it’s “lahngeree.”

I find these differences fascinating. I hope you do, too.

Wearing Baulah

Charles Hawtrey femulating in the 1969 British film Carry On Again Doctor.

Someday Funnies

Wearing Trina Turk

Harry Myers femulating in the 1926 film 45 Minutes from Broadway.

Friday Femulations

Trans Book Report

Without Shame, Learning to Be Me by Connelly Akstens is an excellent book containing life vignettes on a wide range of topics (“many odd experiences, some stunning misadventures and the acquaintance of many quirky people”), but they are often related to the author’s life long struggle with gender dysphoria. 

“For most of my life I lived in the shadow of shame. I was afraid there would be terrible consequences if anyone discovered my gender confusion. Who would want to be my friend? How would I have a career? Who would love me?”

Sounds familiar, but the book is hardly familiar. It is unlike any other transgender book I have ever read – it’s the transgender book I wish I had written. 

You can purchase Connelly’s book from the author's website with free shipping and a free inscription as you’d like it. The book is also available from Amazon.

Squeaky Redux

Thank you all for the kind words about the passing of Squeaky. I really appreciate it.

The hardest part of her death was when I looked at her for the last time, closed the lid on her “casket,” placed the box in the hole I had dug and began shoveling dirt on top of her box.

Very hard.

Mother and Son Redux

If you don’t read the blog comments, here is what you missed when Anonymous asked, “Is that really a young femulator in the last pic?” referring to the Mother and Son photo on my Mother’s Day post.

The son in the photo was a contestant at a womanless beauty pageant. There are other photos of him/her in the usual places on the Internet (like here and here), but I selected the rear view photo because I thought it was so touching for Mother's Day.

Wearing Unique Vintage

Contestants in the 2013 womanless beauty pageant at the University of Aconcagua in Calama, Chile. In my opinion, the contestants in this pageant were femulators par excellence. You can view the introduction of the contestants on YouTube.

Tricks to help you stand in heels for hours

Tami sent me an article about Kate Middleton’s tricks that help her stand in heels for hours. 

To prevent Kate’s feet from slipping out of her heels, she wears non-slip pantyhose from John Lewis, a UK department store. Those pantyhose feature gel strips on the sole to help feet grip more firmly onto the soles of the shoes. I did a perfunctory Internet search and did not find John Lewis pantyhose on sale in the USA, but I did find that Hue sells a similar product stateside. If anyone has another source, please share the information. 

Having staffed my ham radio group’s convention booth for hours in heels, I am always happy to learn about anything that will make my 8-hour days in heels more comfortable, so I will have to purchase some Hue pantyhose before my next booth assignment.

By the way, what we call “pantyhose” in the USA are called “tights” in the UK. (Don't know what they call “tights” in the UK.)

Kate also uses a leather sole insert designed to cushion your feet so you can comfortably wear any type of shoe, including high heels, for hours. The brand Kate uses is Alice Bow, a British brand, but there are similar products available in the USA. (Personally, I have been using Vivian Lou Insolia weight-shifting insoles for years and recommend them highly.)

Wearing Joyinme

Femulating in Namibia: Rumano Fabrishh and Reinhard Mahalie

Squeaky

Eighteen winters ago, Squeaky showed up on our front porch during a snowstorm wearing a red collar. 

We assumed that a collared cat belonged to somebody, so I printed some flyers about our find, distributed them throughout the neighborhood, but there were no takers. So Squeaky, so-named because she squeaked rather than meowed, joined our four cats and two dogs.

Squeaky preferred humans to dogs and cats, so she usually hung out with the humans – my wife while I was at work and me while I was at home – and bullied the other pets if they crossed her path. 

She seemed to be curious about my femulations. If she caught me getting crossdressed in our bedroom, she would hang back for the transformation. Or if she found me already crossdressed, she would often hang with me for awhile. 

She outlived our dogs and other cats, so for the past three years, she has been our only pet. During that time, which coincided with my retirement, she became even closer to me. Every evening, she would snuggle up next to me while I was watching television or working at my computer and I would break from whatever I was doing to massage her.

About two weeks ago, she began acting oddly. She would just sit and stare at nothing. She began curling up in places where she never curled up before. She ate less or not at all and spent less time snuggling up with me. The Internet said she was dying and I made plans to take her to the vet. 

By last Wednesday evening, she had not snuggled with me in days, so I scooped her up off the floor and placed her next to me on our sofa – our normal spot for snuggling. I massaged her back and head for about 20 minutes and then she left to return to the floor, where I found her lifeless body the next morning.

I miss her so.

Wearing New York & Company

Jenny

Someday Funnies

Wearing Intermix

Mother and son