Wearing Tory Burch |
Femulate reader and frequent commenter Mikki |
I enjoy Jezzi Stewart’s Vaingirls Comics. They appeal to my sense of humor and occasionally contain a grain or two of truth. I thought that Vaingirls #3001, in particular, had a bucket full of truth grain.
In #3001, an Avon lady visits a mancave full of guys en femme and remarks, “So you’re all guys and this is your mancave? Amazing! You all are more girly feminine than 90% of the female population!”
One of the girls replies, “That’s because we weren’t born and raised as girls. We worked hard for our femininity; we don’t take it for granted...”
Another girl adds, “We’re girlier gurls than most girls because we try harder.”
It is true.
Femulating is hard work. Hair removal, wig styling, boy-to-girl makeup, figure shaping, lady speech and manners are all things we have to work on – things that are natural to females, but foreign to girls who were born boys.
As a result, femulators are more traditionally feminine than today’s average female. We dress pretty, while females dress pretty badly.
Trousers, slacks, pants, jeans, etc. are the clothing of choice covering the bodies below the belt of most females. Dresses and skirts are only for special occasions and even then, females are often choosing bifurcated special occasion garments (so they won’t have to shave their legs?).
The three females in my immediate family never wear dresses or skirts. As far as I know, the youngest of the three does not even own a dress or skirt; I am sure that I own more skirts and dresses than the three ladies combined.
How many of you out-shop your spouses in the dress aisle or on Venus-dot-com? And I won’t even mention high heel shoes!
You go, girls!
A Year Among the Girls by Darrell G. Raynor documented a novice crossdresser’s experience at a crossdresser B&B in the Poconos in the mid-1960s.
When I read A Year Among the Girls in 1968, I was a high school senior trying to figure things out about my gender. The book did not help me figure things out, but it did make me aware that there were more guys dressing as girls than I had originally suspected. (I originally thought it was only me and my best friend Billy.)
The book was such an eye-opener for a young femulator like me. Back then, there was next to no information available on the subject unless you frequented the right (wrong) bookstores or received mail wrapped in plain brown paper. So I was amazed that there were adult males dressing up and socializing as women!
I read that book over and over again and it inspired me to keep on dressing. I would love to read it again, but over the years, it disappeared from my library... probably lost during a move.
If anyone has a copy of the book that they would like to dispose of or let me borrow, I would be eternally grateful.
Wearing StyleWe |
U.S. soldiers getting dressed for a performance of This is The Army (circa 1945). |
It was no big surprise since my company was “old school” with very few females in charge, whereas the new company was more progressive with many females in charge in various departments.
One month in, there was a lay-off. My boss was let go. A male and a female co-worker in my department were also let go. Another reorganization followed and my new boss was now a female about 20 years my junior. Also they hired back the female co-worker who was let go, but none of the males were rehired.
My profession was a male bastion for ages. Now my department was run by a female and most of my co-workers were female.
When my profession was a male stronghold, the females in my profession tried to fit into the “old boy’s club.” In most cases, they wore little or no makeup, their hair was in a short style and they wore tops and slacks – never a skirt or dress. Their only feminine accoutrements were a purse and maybe some stud earrings.
As my profession became a female stronghold, the old boys were gone with the wind and the women were empowered to dress anyway they pleased. Skirts, dresses, slacks, heels, flats, whatever they felt comfortable wearing.
I thought about trying to fit in with my female co-workers and my female superiors were on board. But then I received an offer to retire that I could not refuse.
Who knows if I would have gone to work en femme in order to fit in if I had not retired? I’d like to think that I would have, but I’ll never know.
Anyway, a week after my last day at work, my female superiors (my supervisor and manager) took me out to dinner to celebrate my retirement. I was the first to arrive at the restaurant and was seated at our reserved table in the bar. I ordered a drink and waited for the girls to arrive.
About 15 minutes later, I saw them enter at the opposite end of the bar and I could see that they were looking around the room trying to find me. As they got closer, I waved and caught their attention.
When they recognized who was waving, they both squealed with delight and were happy to see me presenting as a woman. They both complimented my presentation and admitted that if I had not waved, they would never had found me.
I guess I fit in, better later than never.
Wearing St. John |
Italian girls femulating in Genoa, circa 1960. |
Caty Ryan in her “Scarlett O Catyl” replica Civil War ball gown at the Carrington Hotel in Katoomba, west of Sydney Australia. The event was Transformal 17, the-one time Australian equivalent of conferences such as Keystone and Diva Las Vegas. Click here to read the full story about the event. |
Did my waiter think “typical crossdresser” when I asked him to take this photo? |
This was not a one time occurrence. Rather, it occurs any time I am out en femme.
Reviewing the evening is a good example of what I do.
The Smoker
As I exited the hotel to drive to the restaurant, a young man was smoking a cigarette outside the exit. As I walked out the door, he gave me the once-over and I began trying to read his mind.
Why are you checking me out? Do I look pretty to you or do I look pretty bad? Am I the first crossdresser you ever saw? Just in case, I will sashay to my car to try to affirm my womanhood in your eyes.
The Maître d’
Entering the restaurant, I encountered a 30-something maître d’. He smiled, welcomed me, and asked to take my coat.
As I removed my coat, I began mind-reading.
Do you think I am a woman or a man in a dress? Are you treating me nicely because you don’t care what I am, as long as I have money to spend or are you treating me nicely because I am an attractive female customer?
After he took my coat, he asked me to wait a second while he checked to see what tables were available and I continued mind-reading:
Are you looking for a table in a dark corner to hide the crossdresser or are you just looking for a table for one?
Turned out that the table was on the veranda amidst other customers.
The Busgirl
After the maître d’ showed me to my table, a pretty 20-something busgirl came to my table to remove the extra place setting. She smiled broadly as she said, “Good evening.”
After I returned my “good evening,” I tried to read her mind.
Why are you smiling at me like that? Are you on the verge of laughing at the man in a dress or are you just being very cordial?
The Waiter
Next, a 20-something waiter arrived to take my drink order. He also had a big smile on his face and was very cordial.
Are you on the verge of laughing at me, too? Has the word spread amongst the whole restaurant staff that a crossdressing customer is in their midst?
The Rest of the Waitstaff
It seems I had the only male waiter in the restaurant. The other two that I saw were female and were young and pretty to boot. When I caught their eye, they smiled and said, “Hello.”
Are you checking out the crossdresser, too, or are you just being cordial?
The Two Women
Two women customers sat opposite me at a table situated 90 degrees to mine. If I looked straight ahead, I looked at them. I did not want to be rude, so I tried looking out the window to my left or into the restaurant on my right, but my vision always reverted back to them and I am sure they were aware of my predicament.
Finally, the younger of the two looked my way, caught my eye, smiled and asked me, “How are you?”
That broke the ice and we three made pleasant small talk for awhile and they seemed to accept me as another woman, but that did not stop my mind-reading.
Was my voice too low when I last spoke? Did I give myself away? Did I put some doubts in their mind about my womanhood? Will they kick me out of the “girls’ club” now?
If they had any doubts, they did not indicate it because we continued speaking off and on until they left.
And so it goes
That’s me: always the perfectionist, never satisfied, always worried that my femulation is lacking in some way.
Mind-reading does not prevent me from enjoying my times out en femme, but I wonder if I would find more enjoyment if I did not try to mind-read.
On the other hand, maybe my concern about my femulation makes me a better femulator. I want to be the best woman I can be, so perhaps mind-reading helps me to achieve that goal.
Wearing Venus |
Lily Roberts, beach girl |
👠👠ðŸ‘
I have been making up my face for about 60 years and I still feel inept when applying mascara to my lower eyelashes and when applying liquid eyeliner. My eyeliner usually comes out ok, but my lower lashes – not so much. And they say that practice makes perfect!
Maria Taylor |
Dawn, after her first Halloween party at a country dance bar where she had a great time dancing with her wife, who portrayed Dawn‘s husband. |