Wearing High Sport |
Milton Berle and Jamie Farr femulating on the 1976 television special Joys! |
I have had a few close calls in my life.
Home alone, fully-dressed in my parents’ bedroom wearing my mother’s clothing including bra, girdle, nylons, high heels and a pretty dress, I heard the garage door under the bedroom opening indicating that I was no longer home alone. I hurried upstairs to my bedroom, changed into boy clothes and managed to present as a male to my mother and sister, who arrived home from grocery shopping. I then hid Mom’s clothing until I was home alone again when I returned the clothing to their proper place.
Mom never mentioned the missing clothing – I guess she really didn’t miss it or she knew where it was, but did not say anything. And there is more to that story... when I hurried upstairs, I left her high heels on my parent’s bed and I had to come up with a lame excuse as to why the heels were out. My excuse was that I was drawing a picture and needed the heels to accurately draw the shoes in my picture. She seemed to have bought my story or did she?
Another time home alone fully dressed and the doorbell rang. I snuck a look outside and it was my uncle. He persisted and rang the doorbell a few times, but finally gave up and drove away.
Yet, another time, I was shopping en femme in Macy’s and spotted my company’s receptionist walking down the aisle towards me. I ducked down another aisle and managed to avoid encountering her.
In a comment here last week, Diana recalled another close call that I had at a support group meeting... of all places! Before the meeting, a group of us were chatting out on the stoop at the entrance to the meeting hall, which was next to the hall’s driveway.
A car pulled into the driveway and it displayed a license plate with a ham radio callsign. I recognized the callsign – it belonged to a ham I spoke with on the air occasionally and had met in person a few times.
I panicked! I decided to hide, so I hurried inside and camped out in the ladies’ room.
While I was thinking about what to do, I wondered if he recognized my car parked on the street and wanted to see what I was up to? But it was unlikely that he would be cruising this neck of the woods. Then it occurred to me that maybe he was one of us. He would not be the first (or last) crossdressing ham I encountered, so I exited the restroom and greeted a new trans sister to our support group.
Had a close call? I’m sure Femulate readers would love to read about yours, so pass it along in the Comments below.
Wearing Boston Proper |
Lance Barber femulating on television’s Young Sheldon. Thanks to Tami and Zoe for alerting Femulate about this femulation. |
I bought my first wig at Frederick’s of Hollywood. As you can imagine, I was very nervous and I wanted to do my business as fast as possible to minimize my exposure to civilians. So I bought the first wig that the young saleswoman showed me – a long wavy dark brown confection that I wore a few times and hated it.
I bought my second wig at a downtown wig store and I had made up my mind that I would not get a blonde wig because I was of the opinion that all the transvestites wore blonde wigs!
On this occasion, I was double-teamed by two young saleswomen who convinced me to buy a blonde wig because they thought the blonde wig was definitely me! Who was I to argue with professionals, so I bought the blonde pageboy wig that I wore a few times and hated it.
I bought my third wig at a wig store in a strip mall and I wanted to go red because when I was young, my hair was red, so I assumed I was a natural redhead. The mature saleswoman did not try to change my mind and I went home a satisfied customer.
I stuck with red/auburn wigs for a long time. When I occasionally strayed, I always went back to red.
My "perfect" wig |
So I performed my hostess duties and after all the girls had a chance to try on and buy wigs, the saleswoman said it was my turn. I had not planned to buy a new wig, but the saleswoman did not have to twist my arm. So I sat in the hot seat while the saleswoman fetched the wig that she said was perfect for me.
She returned with a blonde wig. In my mind, I was determined not to buy a blonde wig, but after she put it on my head and I got a look at myself in the mirror, I agreed: it was perfect for me.
Since then, I have stuck with blonde wigs. When I occasionally strayed, I always went back to blonde.
And so it goes.
Wearing Bebe |
Neil Morrissey femulating in British television's 1999 movie Hunting Venus. Click here to view the series on YouTube. Thanks to Caty for alerting Femulate about this femulation. |
By J.J. Atwell
To blend or not to blend?
Yes, that is the question. Do you dress to blend in or to stand out? I typically dress to blend in. But first, I guess we need to define just what it means to “blend in.” So, let’s answer one more question.
Who are we blending in to?
That should be obvious. We are dressing like GGs would dress for a particular venue. Let’s look around and see what they typically wear. That varies according to many things including the location and the time of day, as well as the season. It’s a lot of work blending in.
A CD would look a bit out of place wearing a fancy dress when all the GGs are wearing jeans and a sweater. So, perhaps without intending, the CD would be dressing to stand out.
How do you dress?
You could probably tell from the pictures accompanying my Stuff posts, I try to dress to blend in. I do that because I’m most comfortable when I’m not attracting attention. It’s a personal thing. I’m basically an introvert no matter how I’m dressed.
But there is another consideration – the company I’m keeping. It’s axiomatic that the ability of a group of CDs to “pass” depends on the least passable member. Once people notice one, they will take a closer look at the rest of the group. I try not to be that CD. Yes, it’s a lot of pressure, but it’s also a lot of fun. There is so much Stuff to consider when you go out en femme.
At this point, I’m sure people are wondering how a CD might fit in with a group of GGs. Would the CD stand out as much? Again, I think that depends on how well the CD blends in with the GGs. But I think the odds are better for the CD not to attract attention in that situation. I’d love to hear about your experience and perhaps Stana can find space to publish them.
I’ll be back
I’ll be back with more Stuff in the next installment. 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 let me know what you would like to read about.
Wearing Bebe |
Femulating at the 1960 National Variety Artists Halloween Ball in New York City. |
Tuesday’s post about Paula’s en femme run-in with a neighbor got me thinking about my close encounters with neighbors.
Our first house was a crossdresser’s nightmare! It was less than 50 feet away from our neighbor’s house. Our driveway ran along the property line between houses and our garage was under our house, so when leaving to go out, I would have to back out of the garage and then proceed forward on the driveway for about 100 feet to the street, all in full view of the neighbors if they happened to be looking out a window, roaming the yard between houses or sitting out on their deck, which faced our house.
As a result, coming and going en femme was an adventure. Before leaving, I would have to check to see if all was clear before opening the garage door and making a quick getaway. Coming home was less problematical because I usually returned after dark.
One time, I checked and all was clear, but by the time I got into my car and backed out of the garage, my neighbor had come outside and was standing on her deck. I avoided looking at her, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that she was watching me. I was so flustered that I pulled out onto the street without checking for traffic. Imagine if I had a car accident in front of my house while en femme! My neighbor never mentioned the incident.
Our second house is a crossdresser’s dream! The property across the street is hundreds of acres of reservoir property – undeveloped woodland that will probably remain so forever. My nearest neighbor’s house is over 250 feet away and my property is so treed in that there is no worry about my comings and goings en femme. In fact, I have walked down our 120-foot driveway en femme on a number of occasions to fetch the mail without a care.
However, our house is on a dead end off of another dead end, so there is only one way in and out of the neighborhood. As a result, I am likely to cross paths with neighbors when I am driving en femme. And the roads are narrow, so people don’t drive fast making it easier to see who is driving in the opposite direction.
Over the years, I had a few motor vehicle close encounters and in one case, I am sure a woman driver I encountered believed that she saw something was amiss because when I was walking the dogs a few days later, I encountered her walking her dog and while we were chatting, she commented, “I see you're wearing pantyhose.”
I looked down at my feet trying to figure out why she said that and I saw my feet in a pair of men’s socks that were colored light beige. So I looked at her as if she had lobsters crawling out of her ears and said, “No, I'm wearing beige socks.”
Now why would anyone mention my choice of hosiery unless they were trying to affirm what they thought they saw days earlier? From a distance, it may have looked like I was wearing pantyhose, so she may have thought she now had proof that she saw something amiss (or a Miss) during our earlier motor vehicle encounter.
These encounters with neighbors used to bother me, but now I don’t care who knows if I am wearing socks or pantyhose. In fact, one of my neighbors always waves when I drive by if he is often outside doing yard work. (He probably recognizes my Subaru – I’ve been driving the same car for 17 years – so he is actually waving at the car no matter who is driving – boy or girl.)
And so it goes.
Wearing Madeleine |
Mr. Johnny Brown, professional femulator, circa 1960 |