Fall Sewn Up

In a post last week I wrote about a couple of successful shopping excursions. I doubled down and stocked up again this week. I don’t want to be paying retail for new gear when emerging from Drabatical 2010 in September at the SCC Conference. I have been closing gaps in the wardrobe at a great clip lately, but do you know, completion in this matter remains much like the vanishing point of a desert horizon. Forward progress seems not to bring it very much closer in.

Yes, gaps remain in the wardrobe, and I suppose they always will, but I had spied some Fall/Winter 09 winners still on the rails, ready for adoption, and knocked down to near nothing. I promise you this is the last “look what I found”, gloat-a-thon post of the year. I have made this same solemn promise to my budget.

Back to Macy’s again. The previously mentioned ombre bandage skirt from I.N.C. has a big sister, a very sleek scuba-chic number similar to the sunnier summer one pictured here at left with two minor tweaks: Mine is black, all glorious black, and has long fitted sleeves with a nice zip detail from wrist cuff to mid-arm. After all the knock-downs, coupons and such a mere $23.76 down from $99.00.

The black crop jacket I picked up earlier still had a twin of a slightly different complexion left behind, and I think they deserve to be together come the rapture. The twin is a big, high, hot pink and represents a promise I have made to myself to shake up my color palette a tad. Outside of the odd splashy animal print I have picked up along the way, I have been stuck in a dark monochromatic rut too long. I don’t want to wind up looking like a real estate agent with a Goth heart. So, the ruffle collar flared short coat is in, lit up brightly at the same 76% off list, $23.76.

Drab mode, I took these two up the cash register and the very attractive young sales assistant, had a suggestion about a couple of other things she was sure I would like. We did not chat about particulars, but it was quite clear that we both knew that I was shopping for myself. Sometimes one needs a little encouragement to explore new territory, and bless her heart I am glad she provided it. Pictured at right is the faux-rubber mini. A bit young, yes, and a look that is a bit less reserved than I typically go to, but it feels and fits, well … wow in a word. If I ever do any Karaoke en femme, I have an outfit ready to go. $17.70.

I was hypnotized by the skirt well enough to not notice the other little black shawl collar toreador jacket she quietly insisted into my bag. 2 pieces, $40.00. Thanks Katisha!

There is a mathematical problem one is left to solve when working with separates like jackets and skirts. The solution was found in the clearance racks of JC Penney. I have said before that JCP is today a different and much more fashion forward store than the one I remember from youth. Target (love Target) has garnered a lot of publicity in style circles of late with the addition of Zac Posen and Rodarte lines amongst others to their apparel lines, but I swear to my now stuffed closet that JCP is a real competitor.

My problem has (had I suppose) to do with tops. I have not enough. The blouse is the great multiplier element, an inexpensive way to create new combinations and permutations of more expensive staple items. Theoretically, well selected tops reduce the need to acquire costly new staples. In theory I stress. Problem solved, five colorful tops, with a variety of alluring, lace and net camouflage elements, splashes of color, washer/dryer ready, comfy fits and crazy price points.

Total layout of ~ $40.00 for north of $200 worth of tops, tops that are really rich with all the elements that make dressing very special ... full sleeves, suggestive transparencies, sleek silky fabrics, cling here and there, delicate fasteners at neck and cuff. They all work with items in the wardrobe and confer much versatility. I am done. I must be.

All the math, the quantitative $ & cent stuff is in the spreadsheet here. I have been taking note of my purchases in the hopes of learning something, I do not know what, but something at some point. At the very least, being a conscious shopper should help keep things in check, yes? If you measure it, you can manage it, right?

So, yes, there have been some real quantitative wins. What I have learned of late though has more qualitative upside than quantitative. The qualitative stuff has to do with the tasty fruit of shopping well. I believe I have developed criteria for finding things. Those thoughts will appear here next week in the form of an essay (or two) that describes some of the general rules I now carry at an increasingly reflexive level when shopping. These are thoughts that I genuinely hope you will be able to take and remake in your own image, for your own image as you go about treating yourself to the odd pretty thing.

Happy dressing and everything else in the meantime.

After the M.A.C. Attack

I do hope readers will forgive me. Here I am, a busy week later recollecting events at a too slothful pace. Undoubtedly the contents of my mental purse will topple out crazily, and I will lose some of the pretty details. Too busy with the rest of life I suppose. Nevertheless, when I hit the pause button on last weeks trip out for a little facial treatment, I was just strolling out into Lennox Square, looking pretty well in my estimation. At the very least I was feeling well. Lets rejoin the moment here now.

Shoes are all important, and while I do have a penchant for a perilously perched pair 4 inchers (love what they do for the calves you know) I had my mall-ready 3” closed foot pumps, easy on the hard tile floors and for the long distances ahead. The rest of the ensemble, DK sheers, a very high waist stretch lace skirt, and my old favorite Danskin body suit, back-zip turtleneck top. Clingy would be the correct adjective.

Toute l’ensemble is pictured below. Please be kind. I am not much of a photographer, for starters. Take that truth, add a new camera with a flash with a mind of its own, a moody timer mechanism, impossibly small operating buttons, me hampered by false nails, and the results are predictable. I even managed to make myself look like I have a belly, which friends would tell you is simply not the case. And the smile, someday I will learn, I promise.

First stop, Neiman Marcus. Now don’t think for a moment that I am on this kind of a budget, but I must say the aisles here are wide, and the shop is never too, too crowded. This is a great setting to get into the moment, and really fully occupy your best feminine mind-space before really wading out into the busy world. Plus, they do have very nice things there, and not all of them requiring a 2nd or 3rd mortgage.

For instance, the highly desirable Wolford Flora Tights (pictured right), which typically retail at $55.00. I managed to pinch a pair for a mere $19.00, and had a nice chat with sales assistant about leg wear and maintaining ones appearance in the midst of a sad economic decline. Courage my dears.

Now friends there is a lesson – do pay attention here: If you want a little more comfort and ease swanning around in a mall en femme, I can tell you from personal experience that having a needlessly big Neiman Marcus bag slung over your shoulder goes a good long way. This is the shopping equivalent of spinning up to the valet station in a Bentley I suppose. I felt good before. Now, I felt bulletproof.

A little scour of Ann Taylor yielded nothing from the racks, but pure gold from a human interaction perspective. The unfairly beautiful sales assistant, six feet tall in socks at least, and happily perched on the 4” pumps I referred to earlier, as I was nearing the door on the way out hailed me:

“psssst … your outfit, is that a dress or a skirt”

“skirt, the top is a separate”

“gorgeous. I love it!”.

Well, we simply had to chat. She was surprised to learn that the skirt came from JC Penney, which I took to be a complement, even if the folks at JCP don’t. She was happy to report that the AT spring line was going to be just stuffed with things that she thought I would love and that would look beautiful on me. Just a nice, genuine, warm welcome, which seems the norm at this lovely shop, however I am dressed.

I am not sure though that I could have had an equally easy and natural chat with her in guy mode. This towering African beauty was an absolute stunner. A traffic stopper. "Drab" me would have stammered or perhaps gaped in a daft and offputting way. New discoveries about this cross dressing life it seems are always just around the corner.

The much vaunted Victoria’s Secret Semi Annual sale was either fully picked over, or fully stocked with unwearable, unattractive dreck. Moving quickly on, and towards the exit out of Macy’s. I paused to pull my coat back on." Thanks for visiting Ma’am", in a very friendly way from the Macy’s staffer. My first Ma’am! A milestone of sorts, and one that I think I wish upon you all. It was high time for a glass of wine.

Paris in Decatur is a little bar not too far off from home that, until recently catered to the Lesbian set but, unknown to me, had recently switched current and been reborn as a Gay bar. Welcoming of thirsty and sociable people of all denominations of course, but pretty uniformly male on the evening I dropped in.

Travis, the operator of this fine establishment lamented a little about how difficult it is to create a setting where all the different tribes just get along. It is a shame. I tend to like rooms with variety, but here at least there was entertainment.

A regular Paris Thursday fixture is live karaoke, featuring a super-skilled pianist with an inexhaustible inventory of Great American Songbook standards at the tip of his fingers. Of the half dozen songs I stayed for, at least 4 were performed by guys who really knew how to belt out Gershwin, Rogers and Sondheim, and other personal favorites. No cover charge, just a tip jar for the Piano Man. Superb value.

One of the hosts of the evening was an Elton John impersonator whose voice ran to more octaves than I have shoes. He actually makes a living doing Elton, perhaps not in the way he dreams, but doing Elton nonetheless. We traded notes on music in general and chatted between sets. It was one of those encounters you really can’t plan to put in your life, a little surreal and weirdly natural all at the same time. A professional impersonator chatting with an amateur one.

I am going to make Paris an occasional stop – you simply cannot beat live music, and anyone looking for tips on skin care could do worse than taking notes from a well preserved fellow at an upmarket gay bar. Really, I need all the help I can get. If you do live in Atlanta, go visit. You will feel welcomed. Work on getting a song down well, and some nice man will buy you a drink.

More nice stuff soon.

Happy dressing and everything else…

Black (Skirt) Friday

Barely recuperated from Thursdays' surfeit of food and wonderful holiday company, I waded into the mall melee yesterday. For visitors who have never witnessed the American post-Thanksgiving shopapoloozo known here as Black Friday, picture the Pamplona Running of the Bulls with everyone carrying flailing purses.

Let us, for a moment, trust Wikipedia, and believe that the expression, applied to retail sometime in the 60’s indicates the day of the year that a retailer had better be moving into a profit position for the year, thereby moving from Red Ink, into the Black. Plausible enough I suppose. But don’t dwell on the thought too long or that lunatic in the jogging pants will tear the hanger right out of your hand while you dither.

It’s a bloody mad-house out there.

And I am not kidding about the jogging pants. Its either wear fleece or be fleeced it seems, but please, ladies, would it hurt to dress up just a little? So many pretty things on the racks, being mangled by harridans of barely discernable female form, still spittle-flecked from the parking lot squabble and determined, dammit, to shop, and to hell with appearances.

Many things we are, here in America, but chief amongst them we are consumers.

Personally, I have for many years shunned the fun. Shopping for guy-me is just not worth the bother. This however being my first Black Friday firmly in the acknowledged kid-glove grip of cross dressing, well, what would I be if I did not try? You have to try.

We start with JC Penney. They continue to pleasantly surprise, featuring a cute contemporary line, Bisou Bisou that catches my fancy. These are not heirloom pieces dear friends. They are made on the cheap, but have enough caché to warrant the small investments required. The high-waisted lace skirt endows the wearer with a true come-hither slither. A saucy little slit at the back bares thigh to admirers lurking in your wake. She is of modest length, but that is the only modest thing about her. The highly elastic fabric clings, stretches and drapes quite well. It feels yummy. Nicely re-enforced at the broad and high waistband, it provides constant gentle reminders that you should move, always, like a lady. It’s a fine look, and I paired it with a black jeweled collar thin jersey knit with a beautiful sheer back detail top. Racy. My own glowing product review on the JCP web site can be seen by following this link.

Toute l’ensemble - $36.02., down from $88.00.

From JCP I waded into the busy mall, and popped fruitlessly into a couple of shops. Victorias Secret was about to go China Syndrome, 50 deep at the cash desk. 180º and out again. Nordstroms still too pricey. Nothing in H+M moved me to tears, either of delight or laughter. On then to the somewhat quieter and always warm embrace of Ann Taylor. Across the board 40% off everything through noon, including some previously seriously discounted beauties. I need another skirt like I need another leg, but I do so love this shop. I will allow myself to believe that I am merely making up for experiences not enjoyed in prior drab years, and can be forgiven the purchase of the odd unnecessary thing.

So, where the JCP goods have a night-clubby feel to them, today’s AT goodies have a finer corporate feel to the fibre. The black wool, fully tailored pencil skirt is close to heirloom quality. Taken care of I could make this last 100 wearings. In short I have a great interview look for anytime between now and 2045. I paired it up with a very cute little tuxedo blouse. They look terrific together, and the fit of both pieces is superb. Alas I am not sure that I will take the tags off, and make them mine permanently. First, the price, and then the reasoning.

Toute l’ensmble – $82.67 down from $195.00

And yet we may part ways. The skirt is just too, too much at the knee. Again, let us put this down to the years of missed opportunities to display my gams. I like to show a little more leg than this skirt affords.

As to the blouse, women in a smartly fitted and tailored shirts always get my attention. Versatile, confident and just gently unconcerned with gender conventions, the man-shirt reincarnated as the woman-blouse is a complete winner. But perhaps not for me. I think that I want more femme than this. More cling than crease. More bows than buttons. I am not a rash person though. I will sleep on the decision a couple of nights at least.

I am finding it interesting though that my feminine shopping habits are diverging greatly from long established drab shopping habits. Anything I buy for guy-me has a 1 way ticket out of the shop. It is correct or it is not bought. Period. Recently though, and unconsciously, I am developing the concept of a probation period for purchased goods. Its kind of like casual sex without the whole sex bit. Petra-mode shopping seems now to come with the privileges of indecision. There is a price to indecision though. Back into the mall I will go again. Quite likely that my arms will not be empty on the way out, but my purse will be.

Happy dressing and everything else for your weekend.

Cross Dressing SNAFU. (Situation Normal: All Femmed Up)

On the too infrequent occasions that I am out, en femme, in the big wide world with my somewhat big wide hips on, it is my primary aim to blend in, to disappear, to not attract undue attention. To, as much as possible, just be one of the girls.

I have advantages. I am not a terribly bulky person. I have a terrific walk, and can comfortably stride about in 3” pumps for hours at a time without knocking my wig off on door jambs. I have a friend who is a superb make-up artist. I have a good deal of experience in theatre and vivid memories of high school: as such, the prospects of public performance and public embarrassment do not represent a real handicap to me.

There are disadvantages of course, and I am ok with them. I can “pass” at a quick glance or from a distance, but any sort of up close encounter is sure to set senses tingly that something is just a little off. I am a guy in a dress. No worries. Witch burning more or less seems to be a thing of the past. Yes, I want to be pretty, but I am not out to pass. I am out to experience.

So here is a quick note of thanks to a few people who had close encounters with me last week who just went about their business without any kind of fuss. They each effortlessly added to my experiences.

Matronly Lady who forgot where she had parked. A little up-fouled by the odd floor naming conventions at Phipps Plaza, she accepted my offer to hunt down her car. We took a short elevator trip together, and she got her bearings back. Hooray! Crisis averted.

Nordstrom’s Sales Assistant with the cute furry boots. I had to tell her that I was covetous. She said thank you, regarded my feet, returned the compliment, smiled, and returned to work.

Handsome Waiter at The Tavern at Phipps. The lunch special recital was first rate. Sorry to be a boring client and for ordering the Grilled Chicken Salad with the cheap glass of white. Bonus points next time if I get offered a black table napkin though. My dark tights were a little linty after a well served meal.

Expert Tailor at nameless alteration shop. This was so charming. I had a couple of skirts that needed a bit of a slimming. I walked into the very busy little shop, said hello, held my skirts aloft and asked if they were up to the job.

I should here tell you that I do not make an effort to cloak my voice. I turn down the volume a bit, but do not attempt to effect a higher register feminine voice. Its partly a matter of competence, and somewhat a matter of vanity. With work, I could become more competent, but out of vanity, I continue to use my everyday voice. I like my voice. It is the instrument I use most often to project myself into the world. That voice is an integral part of me, in the same way that my feminine aspects are. I am happy that my one voice represents my whole self. For now. But back to the tailoring episode.

Into the fitting room I go, down with a zip, off with the dress, up with a hotsy-totsy little party bargain from J.C. Penney (yes friends, JCP, over on the right. Link here, with my online review at the base of the page) and out onto the platform with the panoramic mirrors. The gentleman with the pins and the chalk with accurate and slightly accented English started pinching here and marking there, and said:

“O, so nice a skirt sir. A new style…”

... and continued at his craft. The whole “sir” bit was just completely cute. And not meant in any other way than to respect the customer. The International Brotherhood of Tailors and Garment Workers does not have a uniform code of language and does not provide sensitivity training in the use of pronouns, or at least not as standard curriculum for dues paying English as a Second Language members.

I slithered into skirt number 2, repeated the process, re-robed and returned to the counter where a line of clients piled up behind me, and took their proper turn while my tailor efficiently did the paper-work.

Small triumphs, all of them. I felt quite pleased with things. Pleased enough to pop out for a little drink, and so here I finish with:

Brian, Bart and the nice Yahtzee playing lesbian couple at The Stage Door. Yes, it is a gay bar and entirely welcome of all sorts of paying clients, but still, it is nice to chat about the everyday things without commentary about how one or the other looks. We determined over a short while together that Comcast is minutely less evil than Bell South, that Pabst Blue Ribbon has an undeservedly poor reputation, that Atlanta drivers are impossibly self-absorbed, and that we would endure bankruptcy to care for our dogs.

And we then said so long, see you next time. As I say here.

Thanks all, and a very happy Thanksgiving from one who has much to be thankful for.

Petra's Pantyhose Parade - Worthington / JC Penney

Last week I walked out of JC Penney with full armloads of outstanding 75% ++ off terrifically made and absolutely timeless day-to-night appropriate professional woman’s wardrobe staples. Pencil skirts, silk blend blouses, shirt dresses by the pound. This is a department store that never ever meant a thing to my male shopper, but I must tell you this: Petra has a total store crush on JC Penney. And I never, ever would have guessed it could happen.

So, something is going on here. Maybe something like this:

• My male parts are bitchier and more judgmental than my feminine side,
  
• My feminine fashion sense is less well developed than my male fashion sense,
  
• JCP merchandises for women much much better than they do for the guys, or
  
• Some combination of all of the above.

The price I paid for what I got was practically criminal. My sense of guilt is never too far from the surface, and so I caught myself at the door, turned smartly on my heel and went in desperate search of something just a touch closer to full retail price. Thankfully I have a serious editorial responsibility for the Pantyhose Parade!

I did not have to walk too far to find myself in the hosiery section. Yes, the second pair came at 50% off but I didn’t feel like I was putting another vendor into Chapter 11. I will say this though – our hosiery check out lady was definitely offended by my having a penchant for things feminine. One blemish on an otherwise terrific visit. So for this weeks road test of tights is being visited on Penney’s house brand, Worthington.

I peeled up a dressy sheer pair of the Worthington Lace Tanga Control Top and immediately loved the very nice finishing. The pretty, pretty, lacey, scalloped faux-panty detail helps you feel like you are making a fashion statement rather than simply trying to tame your figure. Yes it is a control top garment, but at 14% of Spandex in the panty, its not overly constricting. Just a nice firm fit.

The leg shines nicely for the mid-range priced day sheer. At 18% Spandex it has a nice lasting cling and does not give up too too much on finish and feel. To me they are a touch less silky than I really desire. But, to be fair, they look just a touch better than they feel. It’s a pretty good compromise really.

The waist, panty and toe seams are subtle. They are not prone to roll at the waist (at least on my own frame) and hold up well to a long day of walking about.

I give my value minded friends at JC Penney 6 Random Petra Points for the effort that goes into the entirely unnecessary pretty panty portion. I mean honestly, when you are pulling on a pair of pantyhose you just know that the lady is driving, but it is a nice little girlish pleasure to know you have a little lacey detail where very few will know for themselves.

At an $8.00 investment, the math is favorable, and this weeks test subject rates a respectable 111.2 Petra Pantyhose Points. This laudable rating drives the Lace Tanga Control Top Sheer Leg into the middle of the pack of 10 tested pantyhose. In short, I am happy to endorse this fine fine product, but I couldn’t encourage you to drive great lengths to find them.

And so today, my Calvin Kleins remains in the number 1 spot, gloating and glimmering. I live in the hope that we can, together, find a worthy challenger. And then wear the hell out of them.

Next week, just wait till I get my Hanes on me….