What Not To Wear. Why We Should Care.

My wife and I are fairly regular viewers of the fashion reality show, What Not To Wear (hitherto referred to as WNTW). Back in olden tymes (circa 2003-4), I cultured a crush on both Trinny and Susannah, the hosts of the original BBC program.

The premise of the show, for those of you in the TG community who are either dedicated to watching C-Span or simply anti-television is like so:

Trinny and Susannah would surreptitiously film a few days in the life of a walking, breathing, fashion sad sack. Then, in a very public setting, surrounded by friends and family, the intervention would begin. Shrieks of alarm, and a promise of a complete wardrobe do-over, on the WNTW purse, with one big catch:

The victim had to subject themselves to a caustic critique of everything that had ever worn, much that they had ever done, and all of what they were thinking in matters of personal style and presentation.

It made for great TV. Our hostesses were beautiful in completely different manners, stylish as could be, but not in ways that seemed too fussy or out of reach. Importantly, and charmingly too, they were both terrifically free with bodies, their own and their victims, always grabbing arses, bellys and boobs to emphasize points. Very entertaining and informative stuff. I always learned something watching them, and they never failed to take people from slouchy or freakish well through presentable, and often all the way to stunning in 22 manic minutes.

The same premise was maintained for the American transplant of the show, now at least 5 years on the tube here on The Learning Channel. There were a couple of changes, in tone mostly, with the sincerity dial turned up a little. This adaptation works in the American context in ways it might not have in the UK, works very well in my view. It could still use a little of the familiar fondling that the English lasses were famous for, but we are I suppose a nation descended from Puritan roots and pretty damned litigious. Might not work so well here alas.

As to the hosts, Clinton knows his stuff, and brings a good mix of droll, catty and funny. Stacey with her great hair, super-nova smile, killer legs and abundant energy, is hard not to like. Unless you are a girl who resents girls like that, which I most certainly am not.

Now, I don’t go out of my way to watch the show, don’t Tivo it, but, if channel surfing, this is one of those useful time wasters I have absolutely no problem throwing myself at for a half hour. I have thought on a couple of occasions just how would Stacey and Clinton (or even better… Trinny and Susannah) deal with a cross dresser? Not me mind you, I am not that open. But somebody…..

And now the Why We Should Care part of this post, dear friends.

I received an email from a friend the other day. She had nominated a pre-op TG friend to WNTW, and told me that the application had been accepted and was under review. She was excited and could barely contain herself and what did I think? Me? I thought this was a master stroke. It made me giddy. I really, truly want to see this happen.

I will share a link with you to contact the nice people responsible for this entertaining programming at the end of this post. If this is the sort of TV that you would want to see, please take the 5 minutes required to share your views. Here are a handful of the reasons I did:

- This would be a real challenge for Stacey and Clinton, and a challenge that I think they would want to take on. I get the feel that they are both very post-gender, non-judgmental, and genuinely interested in making the world look better.
- This is programming that would cement TLC’s already strong reputation for socially progressive programming
- This is a show that would very sensitively promote awareness about the Transgendered, and that cannot be bad.
- And lastly, given recent landmark legislation here in these United States around the issue of hate crimes related to sexual orientation and other common social differentiators, this would be timely programming.

Beyond all that, for those of us disadvantaged in our dressing simply because the genetic girls have such a head start, we could all use a style tip or 2, ne c’est pas? Of course we could.

Here is the promised link. http://extweb.discovery.com/viewerrelations

You won’t have to give any personally identifying information if you don’t want to. You will not be nominating anyone in particular. But if you suggest, like I have, that a TG focused episode of WNTW would be really welcomed, well then, my friends friend has a much better shot at a life changing make-over than might be the case today.

I truly hope you do. Drop me a note here in comments if you have taken the time. So appreciate your thoughtfulness and sense of general devilment. If I find other ways to politely pester Stacey and Clinton, I will share them with you in future posts.

Lets go make some great TV shall we?

Cross Dressers Correspondence Corner

Loyal followers of these Voyages en Rose may recall a post from a couple of weeks back wherein I got a little dressing and shopping therapy in after what had been an awfully, needfully drab month. I picked up a dress from Ann Taylor that I had had my eye on for some time. Its never quite so easy as that though, is it? Let me color it in for you here.

The dress, pictured at right had arrived in the shops in late August, and retailed at $150.00. Steep, entirely out of my league. My periodic emails from Ms. Taylor advised me that certain early autumn pieces including this pretty object of my desire had been discounted by 40%. Hmmmm, at $90.00 I felt my not inconsiderable powers of destructive rational kicking in, but successfully mastered those indulgent urges.

When I walked past the shop though and saw that there was a further storewide 40% off previously discounted merchandise, I was drawn, powerless really, into the shop for a little look-see. Flipping through a rack of dresses, not yet finding my intended, the sales assistant opened with “who are you shopping for today?”

“Me. Hey, I am sure you can help. I am looking for a particular dress I saw in one of your emails. It’s the animal print sheath..."

She became a little discombobulated, and started marching me towards a wall of shoes (nice ones mind you) that housed a couple of leopardy or zebra-y pumps.

“Well we have these …”

“No, no no. A dress. Leopard print. Sheath style. Very simple cut, couple of inches above the knee, you must know it...”

“O … yes of course … right over here…”

She deposited me at the correct rack, and then promptly vanished.

Now, admittedly, this shop is in a very suburban setting, and likely does not get too much trade with or exposure to cross dressers, but I really got the sense that the poor dear was just confused, off-put and generally unnerved by the sight of a guy openly buying a dress for himself. Just then, my phone rang, a crisis bell was rung, and I needed to stamp out a professional fire. So was my spree cut short and a now $60.00 beauty held still in captivity.

A couple of days later I was back, found the dress, walked it up to the register, and a different lovely lady made no inquiries that forced overly honest disclosures from me.

I wrote a note to Ann Taylors customer service people letting them know that I love the merchandise, that I am a cross dresser, and that I want to feel welcomed when shopping there. Would they mind outlining their policies vis a vis CD/TG shoppers for me? ... thank your very much, and etc.

Here is the reply in full (emphasis mine).

Dear Petra:

Thank you for your email and positive feedback surrounding our merchandise. We appreciate your loyalty to our brand. We welcome all clients in our environment, and do not specify or create any special shopping protocols for our cross-dressing, transgender or transvestite clients. Ann Taylor does not discriminate based on gender identity or expression. In order to provide a comfortable and non-disruptive shopping environment, Ann Taylor recommends that those clients who present themselves as female may enter and try on clothes in our wardrobing rooms. For clients who present themselves as male, they may purchase items and try them in the privacy of their homes. Our return practice is flexible enough to accommodate the needs of our guests.

I hope our response provided clarification. We look forward to your return visit to our stores.

Sincerely, etc...

The content of the message said more than I expected and its tone is, to me, fully consistent with the sophisticated aura of the whole operation. They won me, fully. I wanted to mention this to you because when sensitivity is displayed by a vendor, well we really should share the news. I encourage you to check out the merchandise by visiting them online here. If Ann fits into your style and budget spectrum, please go visit a shop near you. The clothes really are well made, timeless, and feminine. All of these traits are worth a few extra dollars every now and then. I have great expectations of completely professional welcomes in the future, and suspect that I simply found a sales assistant who was having a less than perfect day on my first visit.

O, and about the dress, I have never, even for a moment, wore any garment that made me feel nearly as desirable and beautiful as I do in this dress. I cannot wait for the right day to take her out for a test prowl. Perhaps I will wear it out to pick up the sexy grey suit. Yum.

How about you? Any terrific shopping and customer service experiences lately? Please name names here.

Happy dressing, shopping, corresponding and everything else.

Petra’s Pantyhose Parade – The Softer Side of Sheers

Well my lovelies, those were some heights I attempted to climb earlier this week. The air was pretty thin up there above the theoretical clouds.Stretched as I was by the whole effort, I suffered a pulmonary edema on my descent which required some attention to my circulatory system.

Well nothing quite so right for the circulation than a nice new pair of control tops, and so, thankfully here on Thursday, it is time to ponder on and prose about the nearly weightless but always enduring virtues of pantyhose.

… The softer side of … North American readers may remember this line as a Sears campaign from the distant past. Many of us think of Sears as a fine place for tools and appliances, and perhaps a little less fine a place for items of fashion. That was certainly, and remains the case for me. The stores suffer from a pedestrian selection of styles, laboratory quality lighting, and sight lines that extend unbroken over vast prairies of indifference to expressions of style. Not ideal shopping environments in my view. However, given that the Sears catalog was my original passport into the world of feminine foundation garments, it felt like time to give this grand old dame a try.

As is the case with most general merchandisers in these hard times, there was not much in the way of sales assistance on the floor, but I am a fairly independent shopper, and found the Sears private label Nice Touch SlimShapers without too much trouble. The sales assistant at the cash register was a complete sweetheart and warmly welcoming of the drab fellow with the nice tights and a fistful of cash. Practically begged me to come back and shop with her anytime. That wins points with Petra.

How much cash? Not much. The Slim Shaper Control Sheers clock in at a mere $5.50, which set me up for an expectation of reasonable quality, but not much of a fashion and feel experience. Now, home for the trials.

This is a day sheer I would guess somewhere in the 15-20 denier range, that can stretch into evening, not a super-special evening, but a nice night in a good outfit. A highly reinforced toe promises durability, and limits us to closed toe shoes, but our choices are still rich within those pointy confines. The leg portion is a run resistant 11% Lycra with good, clingy memory and a surprisingly luxurious, comfortable, and cool feel. Great feel in fact to both the leg and the hand, and again, unexpectedly so for the price. They have a subtle matte finish, but in very direct light give off a just a faint glimmer at the defined lines of the leg. Again, not, red carpet ready, but dressy enough for most outings.

It is up top in the highly reinforced panty portion that these smoothers really come to life though. Seams are well finished, and the overall effect is sleek and attractive. An extra front panel flattens and smooths without over constricting. And credit to these pretties for the absolutely unnecessary and entirely adorable lace detail effect at the thigh top. They possess a class of construction quality and function that stands out in any price bracket. The closest panty portion I have worn in the last year comes from Donna Karan’s’ Maximum Controls which retail at 3X of the price of our Sears entry. Terrific value for the money.

There really is nothing to pick negatively at here. Cared for, they will last. When on, they look elegant and feel like a little indulgence. The fit is superb, with a caution: Please be sure to go up a size if you are close to the margins on the height and weight chart, particularly if you are tallish. Yes, the packaging could be a little sexier, and the web site navigation is terrible, but these are concerns that disappear like so many blemishes beneath a fine, flattering sheer yarn.

And so, to the rankings. The Nice Touch line of pantyhose stride proudly up onto my personal Podium, missing the gold standard by inches, and toeing out current Silver medal holder, Calvin Klein by the slenderest of threads, 196.4 to 194.0 Petra Points. Our new top 3 are featured here.

It has been a while since I tested out so high ranking a pair, and it is a really refreshing moment for me. The Hanes Silky Sheers remain safely atop the rustling range of contenders in my top drawer. The Hanes just possess a certain je ne sais quoi relative to the Nice Touch sheers that keeps them on top, and never too far from reach. Can’t put my finger on it exactly, just something about the intensity of their aura. But silver is nice too, no?, and I have a new brand and venue to explore further. Competition and choice are wonderful things, yes?

A hearty endorsement all around. And my circulation seems to be back to (what passes for me as) normal. If you are looking to complete a Halloween ensemble you could barely do better, and with the Sears Nice Touch not taking too big a bite out of your purse, perhaps have a little spare cash to buy a nice girl a drink this weekend.

Happy dressing, Halloween and everything else….

Cross Dressing Canvas - Part 2

Dear friends, I had no intention of writing a whole 2-part big deal here, but I seemed to have accidentally struck a bit of a thought gusher, and it seems to have splashed onto your monitor. Bear with me. I should be able to tidy things up today. Part 1 of this rambling epistle is nestled directly beneath this post. Scroll down and take a read if you like. Of course, the epically lazy amongst you may simply prefer to click here.

To net out the prior post, I will say that I have come to a grudging and late belief that the people who imagine, design, build and market the clothes that we wear are involved in an artistic, or at least creative endeavour. There. Everyone caught up? Good. Now, proceeding. What about all the rest of us who dress? And particularly those of us who cross dress.

This line of thinking started for me in earnest the other day when I received a nice couple of comments about my description of a recent dressing up experience. One of the notes came from a dedicated fashionista, a genetic female who said more or less “ …makes me wish I had an occasion to don my finery right now!...”

I pondered that a bit. All of us dress each day in something. There is a certain amount of routine about it, and routines lose their ability to capture your attention. Dressing becomes very functional, and not attached to any particular magic. But even at the most routine level, choices are being made that reflect something you want to show to the world. At some level, our ad hoc selections are acts of creative expression. We paint and present ourselves to the world each day, and some days with a little more consideration and pride than other days.

But for the periodic cross dresser, and for anyone, anywhere in between the opposite ends of the gender expression continuum, well, dressing is special. I believe, from my thinking and reading and corresponding with a handful of friends made here online that most M2F cross dressers are exploring that sense of gender. I sense as well that all of us to some degree are expressing a creative drive too. For me, I am beginning to see the creative side of this life as more central to my dressing than any sense of uncertainty or unresolved curiosity about my own gender identity. I enjoy being a guy. I do guy stuff pretty competently. Life is simple and I like simple.

O, but what a platform for creative expression cross dressing is. And what an array of media we get to work in.

Our bodies are clay. The under-layers that obscure some shapes, and build curves where there normally are none. The smoothing and cinching that happens here and there that molds the body into new shapes. This careful process, this first stage of my dressing ritual is surprising each time, and breathtaking too. From noticeably male to attractively female in shape, and there in the mirror. We are sculptors and models all at once.

Our clay is a form. And forms want adornment. The array of finishes from hosiery, to skirts, blouses, shoes, dresses, a much more endless array of drapery meant to display our form attractively, functionally, and perhaps even comfortably. The realms of choice multiply massively from the simple sets we work from in our more typical day-to-day lives. Some tragic choices are made, but as we get more skilled, and as our adornment better fits us and our images, the better the feelings. The clay beneath the drapery takes on a new life, our movement changes, postures smarten, and with each step, stretch and touch we are aware of our choices.

Our forms want finishing. The painting that changes and smoothes complexions, that adds definition to cheek lines, that amplifies the colors of our eyes, that makes our lips look and taste sweet and desirable. This transformation is perhaps the most heightened, and most demanding work of art we can labor at. Again, fraught with failure, but with practice or with help, done well, you become to yourself a familiar stranger, a newly possible self. Again, it can take a moment to get back to breathing again. But still, the next mirror will be sure to see you.

Our nearly finished selves are tapestries too. Final adornments, the hair, the belts, the bracelets, the nails, the scarves, the bags, these new things, taboo to guy-mode life, are a completely new and endlessly variable matrix of options that express us, and finally conceals the clay within. These elements compel new and changed ranges of motion, keeping your mouth clear of hair, handling keys and car doors, being sure to not derange everything that we have worked to create takes constant consideration.

Our finished, and feminized selves are now dancers, expressing with a new physicality. We must now perform, and to move like a man, to sit like one, to hold a glass as we normally do would spoil the illusion. So many of these reflexes require thought and response, and always moment to moment. Movement becomes with time more natural, but there is always a frontier of physical presence, for me at least, that requires attention, craft and consideration. These are complex and satisfying moments of learning and of performance.

And performance in public, is definitionally a creative art. I spent a good amount of my earlier years on stages. The nerves before the curtain went up never got slack. And the satisfaction, right in the moment, of realizing that the performance was being bought into, and perhaps appreciated was for me the primary reason to be there. The nerves and the curtain calls could not be separated. So it is when the door opens and we take on the world en femme. There are critics of course, and performances that fall flat, but the moments when our characters effectively occupy the space we are in, believably, plausibly, these moments are the curtain calls of this cross dressers life. We are sometimes extras lost on a huge set, and sometimes get speaking parts in smaller and more intimate theaters of sociability, but always performing. We are actors, and this too is an ancient and demanding art.

All of this together is a pretty deep immersion in a highly creative, expressive, artistic life. Few people get to be so deeply involved in such a life.

It surprises me to put all of these thoughts together and to realize that I am, and many of you are, unconsciously to some degree, really quite accomplished artists. You might see in your day to day life, like me, less of an outlet for these capabilities than cross dressing provides. I suppose that without really being aware of it myself, that much of the satisfaction, and elation I derive from being Petra comes from the truth that this taps into a pretty deep pool of creativity. Petra brings out a bit an artist. And that art satisfies a special part of my humanity, a humanity we all have at some level or other.

Regardless of what compels us to explore this part of ourselves, forces we cannot often fully understand, confronting those forces, exploring them, personalizing them, is a form of art. Each day is an opportunity for donning our finery after all. Lots of clay and canvas and performance spaces all around us.

Thanks for reading through this. I wish you artful lives. I hope you enjoy your art. Whatever medium you work in, for whatever audience you work and play for.

Cross Dressing Canvas - Part 1

Clothing is pretty central to cross dressing surely. It takes clothes to dress after all. Link # 1 established elegantly in a mere 15 words. Well done. Now for the bits thats are somewhat of a stretch, complete with a warning up front for you:

Much of what follows is about clothing in general, style to a degree, and at the outer edges, fashion. Not so much of it has to do with cross dressing per se. There you are, duly warned.

This essay is an attempt at better understanding the role that fashion plays in my life. It might be a bit of reach my dear friends, on a Monday morning with only a tiny flicker of light on this matter ‘tween my ears just now. But I am going to take a swing at it.

For the 95% of my time spent either buck naked for sleep, or drabbed up for the usual undertakings of my not secret life, I dress with a couple of thresholds in mind. Comfort yes, correct for the elements, warm, cold or wet. Of course some thought or reflex goes into not appearing oddly dressed, underdressed or overdressed for whatever business or social doings are being done, and for mere pride, cleanly. Absence of food stains, ink smudges and undue wrinkling subtly informs the near universe that you are not a total madman and perhaps deserving of a respectful hearing.

Every now and then, an occasion for a little more splendor, formality or effort will present. A wedding, a party, a funeral, or a bigger-than-normal business engagement that will require shinier shoes, a well considered shirt and tie match and, at the high end, the selection of a dapper pair of cuff links. On these increasingly rare occasions, functional dressing gets raised to a level of expression of pointedly, proud personal style.

We don’t dress up much these days, business-casual being the more or less global rule. Technology is so central to our work and lives, that it seems that the style ethos of the technology vendors sets the bar, and for us fellows at least, khakis and a smart shirt passes muster. Clothes do not make the man so much as they once did, and not so long ago either.

In my 20’s I was well creased, dark suited and smartly strangled at the neck 5 days a week. Clothing took a bigger bite of my wallet then, and of the wallets of workmates. In those times there was more room and a bigger demand for thought about personal style. I was proud and peacocky in my wardrobe and appearance in general. I aimed to be unique, unique enough to be noticed but not so much as to appear over-interested. I was suspicious about everything and everyone just over that fine line. Beyond style I felt was an odd world of fashion.

My social circle at that time were active in the arts, theater people, lots of TV types (television that is), PR and advertising folk, and most of them were style conscious, and au courant to a healthy degree. I periodically then rubbed elbows with people very much in the fashion business and very avante garde, and they struck me as having a screw or two slightly loose or mis-threaded. They took it all so seriously. They seemed to be possessed of an encyclopeadic knowing about what I thought to be a frothy merangue of not much. In conversation, they assumed that their passions were shared. I could nod and grin only as long as my glass was not emptied, which was never too long in hindsight.

I believed then that the fashion-obsessed had fallen into a trap and were being victimized by a malevolent industry optimized to prey on insecurities and machined to create demand for things with high prices and with low, and not long lived value.

One happy random night at a party somewhere in the 80’s, a woman tottered by me in a pair of what looked like bright red Converse hi-top laced-up basketball shoes glued somehow to a 4 or 5” stiletto heel. Caught my eye surely, and to a friend beside me, I opined:

“Fredericks of Hollywood has an athletic line now it seems”

Too loudly it seems. In this woman’s odd wake a male proto-fashionista glided by and, with a stereotypical hiss, bit back at me:

“ They’re Norma Kamali bitch*. Do you know anything?”

Truly a beautiful moment. I laughed aloud. I had been told clearly that I was not in the know, and not qualified to know either. This I took great comfort in. I really did not want to know. The ceaseless labor and worry I associated with being fashionable was just not in my suite of cares. I was alert to the traps and secure enough be free of them. Pity the fashionable I thought, for they have been bought.

The tide in my mind is turning now on the issue. I have started to find more and more merit in the world of fashion. The more seriously I investigate my cross dressing, the more I have come to understand how much my transformations into a different self is an inherently creative, even artistic undertaking.

Life is inherently artistic. Our bodies are the only canvas we have with us, always. Link # 2 in another 15 efficient words.

Our clothes are paints of a type. Some of us are driven to go beyond painting by the numbers, within the lines, and from a palette of primaries. Many of us who cross dress are surely driven to dress by some difference we have or feel with regard to gender and how we express it, but also I suspect that we are driven by some kernel of art within us that kindles our fires. Our acts of dressing are acts of creative expression, and moments spent nurturing, refining and satisfying an artistic muse within.

And as for the high priests and priestesses of the fashion worlds, perhaps they, at their very best, are not so different from painters, sculptors, poets and the like, posing to themselves a challenge against conventions and boundaries. Asking how to take what has influenced them in the past, make it new for the present, and perhaps leave something of interest to the future.

Perhaps, therefore, fashion is not all fluff, trick lighting and deception.

I will attempt in Part 2 to make more sense of this for me, and for the undoubtedly few of you who have made it this far, who perhaps share my muse on the matter.

Happy dressing - Petra

* this was the mid-late 80's. Norma was not on the shelves at Wal-Mart then.

photo credit - Jonathan Saunders Spring 2009 - Thanks Carrie!