Forget the Power Tools

By Paula Gaikows

Wearing Liz Claiborne

ki

Back in 2008, I was breaking out of my shell and starting to accept myself as a transgender woman. This is when I started going out in public. At that time, it was difficult for me to find clothes, however, I found thrift shops and garage sales to be an excellent source.

On a warm spring day, cruising around I stumbled upon a house having a “retirement sale.” Interested, I pulled in. As I explored the remnants of their life scattered across the yard, I ventured into the garage. Upon entering, I was met with an unexpected find that both surprised and fascinated me. There stood a long rack with high-quality career wear the kind a professional woman like a CPA or lawyer would wear. Gorgeous suits, chic slacks and elegant blouses caught my eye in sizes 16 and 18. Wow! 

Shy, I discreetly pretended disinterest, all the while stealing glances and looking over this treasure trove of fashion. These weren’t mere garments; they were the identity of a seasoned executive, her discerning taste, a reflection of years spent navigating corporate landscapes.

As my interest grew, a pleasant older woman strolled up revealing that these were her work clothes. Now retired from business, she no longer needed them. She hinted that people didn’t seem very interested and she seemed disappointed. She then emphasized the high-quality, designer nature of the wardrobe. Caught off guard, I managed to blush and nod a casual agreement, suggesting someone was in for a deal. 

Finding cover in the power tools for a while, I was soon drawn back to the clothes. I spotted the iconic Pendleton wool suit I’d later wear on my train ride into London. Inquiring about the price, she nonchalantly asked for $10 – a true steal. Then there was a navy blue Austin Reed suit that caught my eye and again, a mere $10 secured its place in my future. 

As the pile grew, I couldn't help but smile as I envisioned my own wardrobe curated by a real working woman. The fact that a professional woman like herself had selected and worn these clothes gave them spirit. It was as if they had soul. These clothes held the essence of a woman who navigated the corporate landscape with grace, each piece a chapter in her life.

As I examined an assortment of blouses and slacks, each priced at a $10, the total in my head quickly soared past $100. A daring thought struck me: why not go all-in and acquire the entire collection? 

Summoning courage, I cautiously proposed, “Would you take $100 for everything here?” She bit her lower lip nervously as she considered my offer, then she enthusiastically defended the quality, dropping the names of designers like Liz Claiborne, Ralph Lauren, Pendleton and Calvin Klein. Her $150 counteroffer lingered in the air. I hesitated, confessing I only had $125. A perceptive yet devilish smile crossed her face, sealing the deal with “sold!” 

She exclaimed about someone being very lucky to get these clothes. With a shared knowing smile, it was at this point that it became apparent that she sensed these clothes were meant for me. That unspoken truth hung in the air, silently acknowledged by a gaze that spoke volumes. It appeared as though she was making peace with the idea of me inheriting her wardrobe; these garments held memories and were part of her, the notion of a me wanting them seemed to puzzle her.

Her parting words resonated, “I hope...,” she hesitated nervously carefully choosing her next words, “...these clothes find a caring home and are appreciated and enjoyed.” It was as if she was saying goodbye and letting go.

She would never know that those clothes would ignite the woman inside me and propel me into adventures I never dreamed possible. Every skirt suit you’ve seen in my Femulate articles, each pair of slacks and cozy sweaters – most emerged from that encounter with this kind woman. Those clothes, handpicked by her, transformed me making me feel remarkably feminine and undeniably womanly.

For me this wardrobe was more than a collection of clothes; they were inspirational. By wearing these garments, I infused a bit of her strength, grace and femininity into my own endeavors and I am truly grateful for that. Yes, my dear lady, your clothes found a home where they were loved, respected and worn with grace and pride.

Wearing Jacquemus

Patrick Walshe McBride femulating on British television’s

Shakespeare & Hathaway: Private Investigators

Escaped Again

By Tami Knight

This post is to bookend Stana’s recent piece on getting out in public. I have only my own experiences to share, which span decades! Getting out is an adventure if you are ready. To understand my definition of ready, first look at my past post on ambiguity. (Just search my name on this blog). Along with your presentation, you need to be mentally ready as well.

Presentation

You don’t have to be super model perfect, however you must dress to blend in and measure yourself against other women and how they are dressed. This is common sense. I have always believed that dressing with care, appropriately, shows sincerity in who you are and that you wish to be seen as female. That makes you relatable. I certainly made mistakes decades ago by wearing what I wanted rather than what was appropriate. That allowed others to make broad negative judgments about me, (which I deserved!). The more refined my presentation became, the more acceptance was easy and eventually welcomed.

Location

Stana is correct, the mall has been an easy choice for getting out. However, it can be where (sometimes), rude teens might embarrass you. The retailers will be glad to help you, and they have seen ambiguity before. Other safe spots that are fun are museums, art galleries, lectures, large events with adults focused on a historical event or one of your other interests. Airports, busy downtowns (in the daytime), theaters, wine tastings and nice restaurants are easy as well. I can’t begin to list all the fun interactions I have had with fellow diners at nice establishments. However, after hours is when women want to be safe. I was out with a girlfriend at the Temple of Arts in Arizona, and after this bad play ended, we agreed that we would both walk a good distance to her car together, and she would drive me over to mine. Just in case, always be smart!

I have dined alone or with a friend more times than I can count. I have had such fun with the wait staff, the people at the table next to me, or the couple sitting at the bar. I have never ever, gone anywhere that might in any way spell trouble; or any place my mother wouldn’t go.

Mental Preparation

Early in my getting out, I found I was just nervous enough, that I was not focused on what was going on around me. I missed things in this fog. Worried about who might be looking at me, I couldn’t enjoy the place I worked so hard to get to. My driving was also distracted, and I often made dumb mistakes,wrong turns, or parking errors and didn’t watch my speed. I earned a speeding ticket once.

This fog went away with practice but took time. You too may not be at your best on your early ventures out. So, anticipate this. In time, with care, sincerity, and practice at the right venues, you can begin to enjoy seeing the world through a relaxed feminine lens, make friends, enjoy life.

Wearing ModCloth

Another Modern Couple

What's Good for the Goose...

Wearing Cynthia Rowley

Niharika Nerurkar, femulating in India

Escaped

I used to be very closeted. I feared being read because of my size (6'2"), so my closet was bounded by the walls of halls and hotels where crossdressing meetings and events were being held. As FDR once said, “...the only thing we have to fear is...fear itself,” so once I overcame my fear of heights, the closet walls disappeared and now I go anywhere and everywhere en femme.

Question: How did I overcome the fear?

Answer: By mixing with civilians. 

Doing so, you quickly realize that no one cares or if they do, they are not going to do anything about it except maybe smirk or nudge a companion to check out the crossdresser.

Almost 20 years ago, I was so sick and tired of being stuck in the closet that I decided to do something about it. So I put on my big girl panties and visited a mall, which I assumed was a safe place to go to escape from my closet.

Why are malls safe?

Malls have security to provide a modicum of safety for its customers. Visiting a mall, I never required help from security, so I assume the previous statement is true.

The sales staff in mall stores are in it for the money, so they will welcome all shoppers while overlooking their faults. I have never encountered a salesperson who was not welcoming. Don’t know if they knew I was crossdressing, but I assume some figured me out because when it was time to settle up, my driver’s license revealed all... sometimes.

I cherish the times when I handed over my driver’s license while using a credit card and be asked, “Is this your husband’s driver’s license.” By the way, I use a Bank of America credit card that only has the initial S for my first name, so if the seller does not require a driver’s license when I use my credit card, I am home free.

Visit a mall when they just open to avoid civilian crowds that show up later in the day. Today, crowds don’t bother me, but if you are just beginning to escape from the closet, fewer civilians in the mall will add to your comfort. Sadly, many malls are “dying” these days, so you may not encounter crowds any time of day.

Go to Sephora, M·A·C, Ulta or other makeup emporium and get a makeover. My first mall visit, I went to Sephora (photo above) and asked for a consultation concerning issues I had with my makeup application.

The Sephora saleswoman made me feel at ease, taught me a few things about makeup and made suggestions on how to improve my presentation. And, yes, the she knew I was crossdressing because during the consultation, I mentioned that I had beard cover under my foundation. 

The saleswoman probably knew already that I was en femme. Working up close to a customer, the telltale signs of masculinity are harder to hide, so a pro will know. Despite all that, she sensed my uneasiness and tried to settle me down by saying, “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.”

I have lived by those words ever since.

Wearing Yumi Kim

New Sisters

Source: Rue La La

Reputed “feminized husband”

Stuff 21: Our Closets

By J.J. Atwell

Hello again!

How many of us live in the closet? I know a lot of readers like Stana, are pretty much out to everybody. I also know a lot of us are still in the closet. It makes me wonder though…

How Big is Your Closet?

The question was actually prompted by a point Stana made when we were chatting. She pointed out that most of us live in a closet, but the size of it may be bigger for some than for others.  

By “closet,” I’m not talking about the actual place for your Stuff. I’m talking about how big is your crossdressing world.  Are you a stay at home crossdresser? Or an out-in-public crossdresser? Do you go out only for special crossdresser events like group meetings?  

Think about that. If you are out for a group meeting, isn’t it really just a bigger closet? The regular group meetings I go to are held in a secluded location. It’s just us and our significant others. We are out of the house. But are we really out of the closet?  

There’s an annual week-long event held in Provincetown, Massachusetts each fall. If you visit P-Town that week you’ll see many crossdressers walking around in the general population. Are they out? Or is P-Town just a bigger closet?  

My closet is fairly small. Or maybe it’s medium size. I mostly dress at home. I do go out to group meetings most months. I have ventured out to get a makeover at Sephora. Some months our group meeting is a Girls Night Out at a local restaurant, where we might be seated with the general population.  I guess that would qualify as a bigger closet. I’d love to hear your thoughts about being in the closet and just how big is your closet.  

I’ll be back

Yes, there will be more Stuff. In the meantime, comments are welcome either here on the blog or by email to Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com. JJ is always looking for more stuff, so if there is something you would like to read about, please let me know!

Wearing Cynthia Rowley

Noah Schnapp

Time to Fold

Wearing ModCloth

Got Pride

By Tami Knight

I love a Gil Elvgren pinup. He was a famous illustrator who depicted women at their most feminine and attractive moments. Hair, makeup, outfits and figures were all depicted so well and idolized by many. Elvgren’s were, in my opinion, at their best in the 50’s, a golden age in so many ways. I have lived vicariously through his images for many years.

If you too are a fan, you may have also seen photos of Elvgren with his model(s), posed for the fictional setting he was to create. Those models were attractive as well. 

The modern woman I emulate as Tami, has much more in common with the woman of the 50’s or 60’s than the 2020’s. Not that I have a 1950’s vintage wardrobe! I appreciate the woman who makes an effort to do her hair, wear appropriate makeup and dress to make a nice impression with her weight in control. Pride! Any of us walking through a mall or airport today can see that too many women are not trying and seem to have given up.

We have to dress to blend in, but if that means wearing ripped open jeans down the front of my legs, count me out. If it means showing a muffin top, wearing overly tight and revealing Lulu Lemons, forget it. I have standards. I prefer being one of the better dressed women in the room, concerned about first impressions and showing respect for myself and my friends.

My female friends and I have talked about this often and they agree that standards have fallen far. High value men and/or friends are not attracted to women who neglect setting standards for themselves and others. I prefer to be seen as high value. If women don’t hold themselves to a high standard, they won’t hold others to one either. One reaps what one sows. Having standards in my experience, has much to do with passing easily as well.

This image above has always been one of my favorites. What a great image illustrating joy and fun. And in case you just have to have a vintage dress, stop by Fashion by Robert Black in Scottsdale. It is the most amazing vintage clothing store. I bought one super cute dress from the 60's!

Wearing Boston Proper

Bryce Anderson, male womenswear model

Hallmark Styling

By Paula Gaikowski

I just can’t watch the news anymore with the constant stream of war and political distress. Considering that, it’s not surprising to me how my wife's recent choice of watching Hallmark Christmas movies has become a comfort. While I'll admit they may appear hokey and predictable, there is an undeniable charm to them that pulls me in. Their simplicity and predictability that is often criticized, offer a sense of peace. 

Amid the chaos of the world, these movies transport us to a holiday setting, a small town where all problems find resolution and the spirit of Christmas prevails. The crafted settings and characters make these movies not just enjoyable, but an escape from the overwhelming headlines that dominate our lives.

As a transgender woman, they also have a certain appeal to me. The protagonist is not only someone relatable, but also a person whom I might aspire to be like — an attractive and accomplished businesswoman. She returns to her hometown, no longer the ugly duckling of youth, but a triumphant figure of success. She carries herself with poise, dressed in elegant, well-tailored outfits that effortlessly complement her figure. Her fashion choices, whether it be a power suit or a chic dress, show a keen sense of style that commands attention. Her radiant and well-groomed appearance, from her meticulously manicured nails to her polished hair, adds to her overall charm. It is not just her physical beauty, but also her intelligence, professionalism and the impression of capability she projects.

Although she has lost the meaning of Christmas, she now has some type of special gift or skill that will save the town’s festival or solve some other impending disaster. In a word, she has undergone a remarkable transition, a metamorphosis that doesn’t fail to captivate and inspire. Once disregarded and underestimated by her peers, she is now accepted as the accomplished and beautiful woman that she has become. Now, tell me, Femulate readers, how can this not resonate with us?

The movies atmosphere is infused with a palpable aura of femininity, from the snug and inviting sweaters, stylish business clothes and the most cute and cozy pajamas that the ladies elegantly lounge in while sipping cocoa. There is always a Christmas dance or special dinner, where every woman wears the most exquisite and stylish gowns or dresses. 

The end of these movies always features that classic, heartwarming kiss — you know, the one that is everyone’s not-so-secret guilty pleasure. I mean, come on, Femulators! You're all dolled up in your most glamorous gown, rocking those fabulous shoes, nails, hair, your best lingerie and makeup on point. It is a slightly chilly evening and a charming gentleman offers you his coat and pulls you closer. I won't name names, but there might be a few of you out there who secretly dream of a swoon-worthy smooch at this moment, even if you won’t admit it. 

What happens here stays here.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Bretman Rock

Sisters

Growing up, when I wanted to look like an adult woman, I raided Mom’s closet and when I wanted to look like a teenager, I raided my sister’s closet. 

I am sure that Mom knew and I am just as sure that Sis did not. I say that because when I finally came out to my sister, she was clueless and shocked by my revelation. That reveal upset her apple cart and she was not a supporter. She never tried to upset my apple cart, but she was disinterested, never talked about it and never wanted to see me en femme.

Fast forward to the present.

My sister, daughter and I exchange texts between us all day long. My sister and daughter text a lot; me, not so much, but I am aware of their exchanges. A few days ago, my sister texted the following:

“I dreamed we were driving home and a car was following us and we thought it was Stan but I couldn’t see whose car it was but we figured out it wasn’t Stan and... I stopped the car and a woman was driving and I started yelling at her about following us.”

I don’t know if my sister put two and two together, but it was obvious to me that the woman following her was me.

Wearing Self Portrait

Professional femulators of Club 82, New York City, circa 1975