It’s been a while. As per normal, as the middle-age bloke with an interesting side-line in frockage I slid down the pink scale again. Yeah, I know that sounds rude, but I’ve come up with this little scale that indicates just who is in the driving seat inside the old head at any one time.
For the last three months or so my pink scale has been set to a firm 1 out of ten. Put it this way, 0 on the pink scale is normal (toxic) masculinity, 10 is the urge for a full body shave, dyed hair (blonde), manicured nails, full underwear, polka-dot 1940s frock, the whole kaboodle. And when I say urge, I mean constant craving.
Pictured – giving into the cravings with a chiffon floral 1950s full skirted housedress and some pearls.
And the craving hasn’t been there. I think it’s down to external pressures, work is odd at the moment and I’ve been somewhat down in a meh/gray skies kind of way. In some ways it’s been a kind of relief; I could almost watch Agent Carter (a little explanation – I love the Marvel Universe and have watched all the series, but I can’t watch Agent Carter because I crave every outfit in the series. All the gorgeous 40s fashions just send my inner-girl off on an imagination trip, and by the time I’ve wondered just how lovely the dress worn by Peggy Carter would be to wear the bloody story has moved on and I’m missed the whole point. But still, wow, the outfits). In other ways it is a little sad, like Sarah has moved out of her pink-themed flat in the back of my mind.
Pictured – Sarah apologising for her absence with a bribe of red wine…..
But it’s not the case. This is the way the brain works; when you expose yourself to too much of an experience the brain loses the ability to react to it in the way you like – often an addict will stop doing something in order to lose the tolerance to it, so the next time they do it it gives more of a rush.
The the feeling I get when I frock up is just like that, a pure serotonin rush. I am a functioning drag addict. If they did Transvestites Anonymous I’d be there, in a gorgeous chiffon knee length tea dress, standing and admitting to it.
Pictured – hello, my name is Sarah and I am a drag-addict
Back to the pink scale – I have another session in, oh, just over a week. I have a lot of new outfits and fun stuff to try, including some very cute Xmas frocks and uniforms, so I’m hoping my pink scale will rise over the next couple of days. Down side of that is my mind will start to wander again, and wandering leads to Amazon and lots of impulse girlie purchases. God bless Amazon Prime.
Anyway, fashion. I didn’t write up the last session I had, which was a fun one. I gave Cindy full control over one of the days to see what she thought Sarah should wear, and we had a blast. Sure, I had a day as well, where I went for the usual housewife looks (I’m predictable, sue me).
Pictured – one of Cindy’s stylings. Yeah, she’s got the eye for it….
I’m going to write a whole blog on my love affair with Vivien Wilson’s clothes and styles but to cut a longish story short I post a lot to the ‘I have a Viv of Holloway Dress and Love It” private group on Facebook (as Sarah, of course), and I’ve been asking/hinting/begging for an animal print Kitty style dress. And there’s one coming, courtesy of the fantastic Vivien Wilson – she responded to one of my messages and said they are working on a Leopard Print Kitty, which will be pretty much the best dress ever according to my limited tastes.
I’m coming to the conclusion that while I like to see myself in some of the modern styles, that’s not what Sarah is about. There’s something about embracing the female fashions of yesteryear that ticks my boxes, it’s my fetish as the tens of thousands of words I’ve gushed about it pretty much indicates. If, and it’s one of those ifs that is very unlikely, I ever chose to dress as a woman full time I’d spend all my days in sensible tea dresses.
Pictured – and I’d spend a lot of time doing homework around ‘what every woman should know’…
Maybe (nah, absolutely) it’s escapism – I know I wouldn’t be bothered to do makeup everyday, and whilst a fetching polka-dot Kitty frock is a wonderful idea I can imagine four or five hours in heels, doing chores and the usual stuff, would murder my feet. I walk on average 10-11 thousands steps a day. My feet would be bloody messes. But since when has reality played any part in my fantasies.
A couple of weeks ago a friend on Facebook posted a picture of herself at one of Cindy’s sessions, wearing a flowing red and white polkadot dress, full petticoat and the Marilyn wig, and the caption was ‘every girl wants to grow up to be Sarah Lewis’. That was utterly amazing – I still see myself as a beginner in this dressing game, until I look back and see I’ve had thirty (!!!!) Cindy sessions and been dressing and honing my style for four odd years. Now that’s a shock, in a nice way of course.
Pictured – ‘shock’
Last little bit of news that is actually wonderful – I met up with my sister last week. I haven’t seen her for going on five years, we’ve been pretty much estranged due to the evil entity that is my mother, but I decided enough time had passed. And I was dying to tell someone else about Sarah. My best friend knows, and I invited him as well for a drink. I told my sister, and she loved the idea of Sarah. When I showed her some carefully chosen pictures (a girl has the right to filter) she was blown away and how unlike me Sarah looks. And the loveliest and funnest moment was when I said Sarah was into retro and my sister said ‘there’s a shop you have to look up, it’s called Vivien of Holloway’ at which point I laughed, gushed and showed her some of my massive collection of Kittys. Seems a love of retro frockage runs in the family.
Anyway, enough for now as I’m rambling in a tired, slightly depressed but yearning for my hit on the drag addiction way. As I slide back up the pink scale (ooo-err) I promise to write a couple more fashionista style blog posts, maybe another slightly naughty ‘Bitchfinder General’ questions one, as I’m starting to feel those urges as well (Sarah, calm down).
So stay beautiful, remember that the darkest moment is just before dawn (thank you Mama Cass) and at the end of the day it’s up to you where on the pink scale you are.
Pictured – plus Xmas is coming and that’s always an excuse to wear the best party frocks…