transretrogurl

Another session finished. Three words that cannot hope to contain just how much bloody fun that was. The agony? Courtesy of the storms and the fact that railway infrastructure in the UK is, well, kind of sh*te to put it mildly, I find myself stuck in London, shaven, still with traces of make-up and nail glue on, typing a blog when I should be glowing at home with my cats and my other half.

Still can’t take the edge off. So, some statistics – seven hours of makeover, six outfits, one hip failure (amusingly – sometimes it pays to remember that I’m a 47 year old person who has spent various phases of my life a: drunk or b: hungover) – ask me to whip up my leg, shiny stockings and f*ck-me heels, at right angles to my body and yeah, there’s a couple of lovely photos and a numb rustiness where my hip joint used to be. Still bloody worth it though.

Yeah, it’s going to be a gush blog entry. Don’t worry, I’ll crash fast and we’ll get back to the self-flagellation and search for truth that occurs when I’m not pirouetting around in a 1950s style swing dress, unable to get the smile off of my lipsticked mouth, feeling at one with the world and in touch with my rapidly-becoming-dominant femm-side.

Where was I? Oh yeah, outfits.

I am so tempted to just do six ‘frock tales’ posts and go through each, but that would be overkill (and I’d be up all night giggling and frantically typing and, courtesy of the transport chaos, I need to hit Euston at 7:00am. Finger’s crossed my car is still there, stuck in a public car-park overnight. It’s not like a top-of-the-range Audi is going to be a target or anything, is it? #irony. So, in the short term, here’s a quick piccie and overview of each look. Not a dud amongst them, and some that really made me feel complete. And that’s a statement for another blog entry as well.

1: Blue/White Polka-dot ‘retro-trash’ Sarah

This was the warm-up look. Going to be honest, I get terrified going to Cindy’s. Everything about it is both utterly welcoming and bone-core terrifying, the journey, the walk to her place, the standing outside between pressing the button and the door clicking. Yeah, it’s an irrational fear but aren’t most of them? Plus I take a while to channel Sarah. She can be sulky and hang around until I get exasperated, and suddenly *bam* I’m female. So we (myself and Cindy) tend to write off the first outfit as a warmup. A lot of the pictures don’t flow and there’s a tenseness to me that rapidly goes away. But not today. Firstly, I *love* that frock. It has a black mesh inner skirt that acts as a little petticoat, and a large collar that makes it feel more like a 40s blouse. Cindy suggested a different wig, something *huge* and I loved it. Made me look very retro-trash, exactly the kind of girl I’d stare longingly across the room at but would be too popular to ever dance with me. It’s nice being that girl.

2: Downton Abbey Chambermaid

Something a bit more cute and subservient. Combined a black skater dress that had a gorgeous lace collar and buttons with a full petticoat, proper maid apron and hat, and a beehive wig. Worked a treat. She’s *so* cute. I want to take her home and let her clean the house for me. And then have sex with her.

3: The 50s Diner Waitress

Wow. Just wow. These’s something I find deliciously sexy about the 1950s diner waitress look, and have tried, in vain, to source a proper one. Lindy-Bop produced a striped dress, called the Bridgitte, and the minute I saw it I thought yes, that would work. So today we tried it with the maid apron, petticoat, glasses, pen and pad and the wonderful up-do wig Cindy has. This caused me some issues because the minute I saw her in the mirror I had to fight arousal. Hard, if you’ll pardon the pun.

4: Housekeeping revisited

Have I mentioned how much I love that housekeeping uniform? I have? Many times? Oh. Well a friend of mine said she needed to wear a proper hat, so I had to become her again, it was the only thing to do. And yeah, another punching oneself in the groin to remove the outpouring of joy occurred.

5: Trying to get a picture to submit to a Customer Gallery

Before Sarah re-emerged from her sequin-covered cocoon of hibernation I bought a lot of frocks for my partner from a site in London, Viviens of Holloway. They do very nice, and very expensive, retro frocks. They smell expensive, if that makes any sense (I know it doesn’t), and they also feel delicious on. I’ve always wanted to tell them how much I love their stuff but a: I never took any pictures of my other half wearing hers and b: I’ve never felt confident enough to frock up in one of them well enough to submit it to their customer galleries. I don’t know how they feel about trans-girls wearing their exclusive frockage, so I deviously wanted one sole picture where Sarah looks like a genuine girl wearing a Viv frock. So that was the plan. Turns out we ended up with a *load* of beautiful pictures where Sarah just about passes as a retro-devotee woman. Now got to get up the courage to submit one…. 🙂

6: Something different. And sexy. To me at least.

I grew up in the eighties and *always* had the hots for goth girls. They were so, well, different in a beautifully sexy and independent way. So, as Sarah is so far out of the closet she can’t even see the door I thought I’d like to try and be one of the those goth girls I used to fantasise about. So today was a dry run – retro make-up but a full kinky Goth outfit – I bought a goth skater dress/little black number from the gothshop, got a black-rose headpiece, fingerless black lace jewelled gloves, a high neck black lace choker, and asked Cindy to do her magic. F*ck me (if you’ll pardon the language and obvious confusion), it didn’t half work. When I go out again it will be to a trans friendly pub and it will be wearing that outfit. Plus full goth makeup. Just because it’s a joy to be a goth girl.

And there you go. Still in the hotel, it’s past midnight (getting on to 1:00am). My train isn’t for another six hours. I’m buzzing, hot, confused but blissfully happy. Sarah is still here, fading slightly as the day turns to night, then turns to morning. But I’m happy.

You now what? It’s good to be a gurl.

Stay beautiful you delightful creatures.