So home alone, I set out to organize the wardrobe, accessories and whatnot, and to test drive a couple of newish mix and match options. Those boots with that dress?, this top with yonder skirt?, and etc. The exercise confirmed my belief that I have been shopping well lately. Not just for price, but for harmony with my shape, personality, and aspirations to beauty.
I truly had some moments in the mirror that made me catch my breath. You know the feeling (you full-time women know it too). Wow is the simplest encapsulation. I love the wow moments. Thrilling and calming at the same electric instant.
After snapping myself back to the moment, I took a good look through much of what I have acquired over the last year. These items represent the bulk of my femme wardrobe and is a pretty diverse rainbow of shades, silhouettes and styles. It runs the gamut from Lady Gaga to Liddy Dole. For those of you not obsessed with American politics, one of them is pictured here.
While I do not see myself pulling off any of Lady Gaga’s ensembles (figuratively dear friends, I am in exclusive relationship), I do notice a clear and happy drift away from twinsets, safe suits and other such pillars of the middle aged woman’s wardrobe. This drift is at odds with my biology: I am a middle aged something or other.
The high waisted stretch lace skirt from JC Penney is a look that 25 year olds I work with would go nightclubbing in. I am quite certain that high-schoolers will prom up and get down in it. My wife would feel terribly self conscious in it. And I love it. This put me to thinking – just what age am I? Do I have a split personality cherry on top of the gender expression cake?
With no certain answers are emerging, I thought to ask you. There is a poll to your right that will be running through the week. Queue up nicely friends, one vote per customer.
As I do put thought to it though, I do not think I am overly fooling myself. In my day-to-day life, I do feel younger than what the odometer indicates. When in serious business settings, a part of my brain is expecting a butler with a polished English accent to walk in and to discretely whisper in my ear,
“Young man, a terrible mistake has been made, grown ups only here, you know. Do excuse yourself, leave with me, and please try to not make a fuss about it….”
So while I do pointedly maintain a youthful outlook, cross dressing winds up being a very real fountain of youth. It turbo charges natural inclinations. Cross dressing creates the opportunity to play with the hands of time and for that I am thankful. I really hope that I am not delusional though. I am still expecting a visit from the butler.
How about you? Go vote. I am keen to see if we share perspectives. Analysis to follow.
Happy dressing and etc...