A Short Post a Long Time in the making

Dear Friends,

I have been busy thinking and writing this week, and not only for the blog. I have just finished drafting a condensed cross dressers autobiography. Autobiographies of course want an audience, and I have a special one. My wife.

We have some time set aside this afternoon. In fact, we organized things such that we both have the social decks cleared fully for the rest of the weekend. In December no less. No obligations, no contractors under-foot. A couple of beautiful dogs staring at us wondering why the hell we are not either going walkies or at the least scratching their bellies, and the only knocks on the door likely to come from Jehovahs Witnesses or other such vendors of salvation.

Well, all the salvation I require today can be found in honesty I suspect. I have owed my wife that honesty, in full measure, for as long as I have realized that cross dressing and my general explorations of my fuller self was simply not going to bloom, fall of the stem and die. As long as I have obscured this in my home, our shared home, I have made the home less loving than it deserves to be, than it needs to be to flourish and grow. There is stress in the life that my wife and I share, and perhaps some, perhaps much of it stems from my cross dressing.

I suspect though, that more of the stress, and friction, and heated moments are related to my lack of openness about it, the burden of carrying around a pretty big deceit.

So I will be sharing a well considered and honest couple of pages of notes, and then opening the floor up to questions this afternoon.

I must tell you that while I have some fluttering nerves about it all, I am more possessed of a tranquil resolve. I can almost taste the relief that comes from unburdening. I am not under-estimating the potential for negative, emotional, and hurt outcomes from this disclosure. But I am convinced that non-disclosure is putting us on a track to the similar and perhaps bigger hurts.

It is time. Past time. This is my duty.

I do promise to update you with news. I hope you will forgive me if it takes a little while. I really have no instrumentation available to me that would helpfully indicate that clear skies are “x” miles ahead on bearing “y”. Similar with comment moderation. Love you all dearly, but my focus will be rightly elsewhere for the forseeable future.

Do wish me a little luck though, and think a nice thought in your busy weekend friends. And again, let me thank you for visiting. Finding an outlet here at Voyages en Rose for my thoughts has really helped me get to this necessary day. Looking forward to sharing new days with you all sometime soon.

Petra

Petra’s Pantyhose Parade – New Heights

Over the course of the last year I have made a regular passion of reviewing and ranking standard issue, natural-waist, sheer tights. I am at a bit of an impasse though you see. I have started to run out of new product to review. O, I know, I am missing Falke, and Mantoux and Fogal and too many to mention, but these delights are simply not falling off the shelves here locally. Come the new year, I mean to do a little more shopping online. Just for now though, little brown packages tied up with string are not amongst my favorite things.

I have accumulated a fair number of tights of a different class in my many shopping sorties this year. High-Waisted Super Slimming Pantyhose. Not your standard issue control top sheers, no ma’am. They might be better described this way:

Two garments, dear to the hearts of lingerie enthusiasts everywhere, girdle and stockings, have been shot at each other, as though from opposite ends of a lycra-rich super-collider, super-conductor. The hybrid that survived and glows in the still steaming wreckage is, to me, the peanut butter and chocolate, the champagne and popcorn (ed. no fooling, a great match, try it) of modern era, non-retro foundation garments.

When I run these rib-cage ticklers through the Petra’s Pantyhose Parade scoring algorithm though, something simply does not work. I suppose that like anything shot through a super-conducting super-collider, they elude the generally agreed upon laws of physics. At the same time, they do though have an enormous impact on the known laws of physiques,and that piques my interest, meriting the creation of a new class of hosiery, and a new math to evaluate them with. Some opening notes on this planned series are tendered here today.

What qualifies them in? Quite simple really: If you can pull them up to your bra-line without voiding the manufacturers warranty, they are in!

Why wear them? Well, for starters, admire the picture on the right. I simply could not understand the person who would not want at least to try them on. Male, female, straight, not, soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor, I mean, people, please…

Why else? Because, like Everest, they are there.

For those of you not yet convinced, would a handful of feature, advantage, benefit statements work? Let us try.

Slimming is good.
Smooth surfaces beneath clingy garments are good, and
If quality hosiery feels good, then more of it must feel better, no?

The defense rests.

The prosecution will of course point out the following:

More hosiery means more money.
When nature calls, you must be prepared for a little grappling, and
Gravity always gets its way. Anything not nailed or glued in place will slide down a tad.

Well, no pain, no gain says I, so its time for a high stepping parade. Here are the contestants, in no particular order: the L’eggs Silken Mist Waist Cinching Shaper, the L’eggs Profiles Waist Smoother Toner, the Assets by Sara Blakely Perfect Pantyhose High Waist, the Spanx All The Way Up! High-Waisted Full-Length Pantyhose, the Ann Taylor Sheer High Waist Control Top Tights (pictured at left), and the Donna Karan Body Perfect Waist Embrace Sheer Pantyhose. I may stumble upon one or two more of this class on my travels. If I am missing any obvious candidates that you, esteemed reader, believe should be under this lasses glasses, just drop me a line. Can’t find the Wolfords anywhere, and lord I have tried. If you know where I can find a medium in black, I am willing to trade my collection of rare Barbara Feldon memorabilia for them. A second mortgage is not absolutley out of the question either I suppose.

The criteria that they will be judged on goes as follows. Price will be a factor, yes, but less of a factor than in my standard sheers formula. Compression and smoothing is what these garments promise, and so I will hold them to their own standards (do they preen and prune and nip and tuck us well?). Gravity fighting (do they stay up or do they go inner tube at the waist?). Feel, to the leg, the body, and the hand (do you want to wear them?). Beauty on the leg (naturallement, would you be proud of their appearance, and look like a slimmed down million dollars?). And finally, judges prerogative – a random Petra Value that will express my delight or consternation about …. well I don’t know quite yet. We both will soon though.

Back next week with the first edition

Queens, Knaves and other Cross Dressing cards.

Today’s post is addressed to all visitors of course, but is especially intended for the growing number of Voyages en Rose followers of the natural born woman variety.

When we of the CD/TG inclination explore our wants and investigate our desires, I think it is safe to say that our first big hurdle is self-acceptance. When we find out that we are not alone, well that is helpful. My one year of blogging and lurking around online has been therapeutic to the max. I am OK with me, and on the whole, greatly comforted by the smarts and sensitivity exhibited by my sorority mates. Or sisters. Hmmm. Never mind. Never was much with pro-nouns.

For me, (and I suspect I am not alone in this either), the next group of people whose acceptance we would seek are the important women in our lives. There are a whole host of reasons that this can be a difficult and dangerous bridge to cross. I won’t recapitulate the particulars here today, but I have to say that I have not tottered fully across that bridge. Yet.

I am preparing to though.

As I prepare for this ...( words fail me) event, I wanted to pay you a little tribute, by way of thanks for your happy, non-judgmental acceptance of me here. It helps me to “normalize” my cross dressing. Ladies, as individuals and as a special group, you have my respect. Respect is important. It is the core theme of this post.

Perhaps you have been exposed to gender bending in nightclub settings. Remember the be-wigged and bombshell breasted drag queen at the microphone, lip synching Half Breed or some other syrupy musical tribute to the mighty Cher? That was not me.

But for a straight guy, I have seen a fair amount of this class of cabaret over the years. At the peak of her game, the dedicated gender illusionist is something to be admired. For contemporary theatrical female impersonation, I would single out for positive notice, the statuesque RuPaul (pictured right, photo credit to Albert Sanchez). Respect for performance craft is displayed in RuPauls’ work, and to my thinking, a sincere respect for women too. Those traits are borne of self respect. Self respect is a precondition for anything of value. So, a tip of the Tiara to RuPaul and the select few (or perhaps countless) who approach their own transformations from that place of respect.

All too often though, Cinderella’s step-sister, the Drag Queen is more spectacle than spectacular. Knavish behavior is seen often under the spotlights. Something catty, something demeaning gets brought to the ball. Traits are exaggerated, the walk, the hands, the hips. Colors are unnatural, the hair, the cheeks, the lips. Body parts and prosthesis are poured in and pressed up, the boobs, the butt, and god help us, the bulge. Often there is skill in the craft, but not much evidence of respect for the fairer sex. It sometimes approaches and passes mean-ness. Mean people are not known for self respect and I suspect that this is a reason that this sort of show gets old for me awfully quickly.

Drag performance does have its uses though I suppose. The weaponized, inflated and slightly distorted parody of femininity is satire, and satire does make us think. The drag artist forces men and women both, (but mostly men) to challenge their own feelings about what is attractive, if only for a few gin soaked moments. This too is a healthy and periodically life changing challenge to orthodoxies. The performer of course has the experience, the microphone, the spot light and therefore all the power too, and often spends it mercilessly on defenseless amateurs in the audience. Again, a nice challenge to typical power structures.

Drag performance pre-dates Shakespeare and perhaps goes back in time through Classical Greek drama and, for all I can surmise, may have taken it's first pre-historic, hip-sprocketed baby steps after supper one night around the fire in front of the Caves of Altamira. I am not knocking the tradition. There is room in the world for a little over-the-top spectacle. The the women I know and love are able to stand a little lampooning, and able to enjoy a laugh at their own expense. Furthermore, if someone is able to make a living not swindling widows and orphans, well, who am I to complain?

The larger than life performing Gender Illusionist is designed and presented in such a way that they cannot be ignored. I, however do want to be ignored. I mean to say that when out, en femme, in the big wide world with my somewhat bigger hips on, I aim to blend in, to disappear, to not illicit undue attention. To, as much as possible, just be one of the girls. I suspect that too is the objective of regular visitors here who share my inclinations.

I remain as hopeless baffled in my attempts to understand what “real” women want at any time as I have since puberty. But I remain dedicated to figuring you out as well as a guy can. And so to you natural women, I say:

… I appreciate your acceptance. I hope to have your respect. On those occasions when I have the privelege to unearth, explore and present my undeniable feminine facets, I truly aim to respectfully represent the beauty that I see in you everywhere, and especially close to home, every day.

You have helped me see that I can cross the bridge in front of me. Thank you.

The Power of the Purse: Human Rights Campaign Edition

Ice hockey fans of a certain age may remember a time when the National Hockey League had a mere 6 teams, huddled closely against the cold in the American and Canadian north-east. For the rest of you, please just hang in there a moment. Hockey, then as now, was a sport that was fueled by good measures of finesse and brutality both. Teams required players from both ends of the spectrum in order to succeed. The most successful team of the era were les Montreal Canadiens, and firstmost on the finesse front was the incomparable Jean Béliveau.

In Toronto one night for a match against the lamentable Maple Leafs, early in the game one of the home team thugs was sent out to provoke M. Béliveau into a fight with the view to getting him off the ice and into the penalty box. The graceful great was determined to not fight, and so was circling, dodging punches and not punching back, when from the cheap seats a beer enriched bellow was heard:

“Hit ‘em with your purse Béliveau!!!... "

The owner of that voice probably never had to buy a drink for the rest of his years. But to bring the point home, we too can effectively hit with our purses. A Voyages en Rose reader (thanks Ellen!) shared a terrific resource with me, that I want to share with you.

The Human Rights Campaign (HRC.org) is a non-profit, member supported advocacy group fighting the good fight for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgendered rights. My wife and I are long time supporters of HRC. Good people. Yes, they clear cut whole forests for their direct mail campaigns, but the cause is sound. I had thought of them as largely being involved in promoting legislation that makes life more fair for more people, but of course there is more to the good work.

HRC maintains a buyers guide. Their method is simple. They write retailers, manufacturers, service providers, financial institutions, media organizations, really all the places we toil and spend the spoils. HRC asks a few questions about hiring policies, benefits (think of extension of health care to same-sex partners) as well as policies vis a vis service to the LGBT community. Some vendors come out tops. Others have blotted copy books. And a handful do not respond and so leave themselves either as unknown quantities, or safely assumed to be unfriendly environments.

With this information in hand, HRC membership is encouraged to shop or not shop accordingly. There is no better way of getting attention from a person or a company than withholding something they want. In the case of these businesses, they want your money. Perhaps they should get it if they deserve it.

I come from a long line of boycotters. In most matters I have the memory of a goldfish, but grudges I can carry great lengths. Happily, I have not met any behavior myself while shopping en femme, or shopping for Petra while in drab mode that puts any company newly on my snit list. My normal, standing boycotts are maintained for my femme shopping (Walmart, can I have my main street back please?), but I have not added to my enemies list on the basis of recent personal experience.

A couple of highlights from the Apparel and Accessories retailer section here:

Personal favorites including Macy’s, JC Penney, The TJX Stores (TJ Maxx, Marshalls, etc), Target, and The Limited Brands (including flagship lingerie vendor, Victorias Secret) all score close to perfect by the HRC. So its not just me. These are companies that have policies in place that promote sensitivity, and a culture of openness. I will be back for more.

I was surprised to see a couple of names on the Red Alert, failed grade list. Not too much of my money has gone here, but a little has, and a little always does go a long way. The whole Jones Apparel Company is in the time-out chair. My Evan-Picone’s and Nine Wests may pinch a little next time I slide into them. Burlington Coat Factory, Chico’s, Ralph Lauren, the whole Vanity Fair group are amongst the short-bus, remedial class too.

Given my recent rhapsodies about Ann Taylor, their superb response to an initially awkward service incident, and the royal treatment I have enjoyed there en femme and in drab, you can imagine I was surprised to see them in the HRC gun sites. Ouch.

But this fact does illustrate that as the pharmaceutical and investment management commercials say, your results may vary.

I do not think that the HRC list will change my habits too much. Most of my shopping dollars seem to reward great organizations, and I am happy that most of my findings true up with the findings of the professionals. I encourage you to look through the guide, and, if you believe, like I do, that businesses should be held to higher standards than lower prices, let HRC’s findings influence your habits. Good time of year for a little withholding from those who have been naughty, and a little kindness to those who have been nice.

If you are not a member or supporter of HRC, they certainly are nice, and could use the kindness too. Go ahead, hit ‘em with your purse.

For those of you from outside of the US of A, I would be happy to publicize the name of organizations that do good work of this variety in your countries. Drop a line in the comments section please.

Photo Credit: Bottega Veneta tote courtesy of Couture Carrie

Cross Dressing your Age

I had a good few private hours to attend to my femme self with last night. Too much of a chest cold to share with the world, and truth be known, the event I begged out of was more my wife’s crowd than mine. I can grin and make small talk with the best of them but am acutely afflicted with an inability to remember names. I really don’t mind looking a bit daft myself, but hate to reflect poorly on Mrs. Bellejambes. These people are important to her after all.

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...