transretrogurl

Season’s greetings and all that stuff. I’m in the process of settling down to a couple of days of self-indulgence (not that, you have an odd mind…) in the normal Xmas kind of way, good food, good alcohol, bad movies, open fires, no visitors (I have that luxury) and all the ‘trying to go up a dress size’ things that happen this time of year.

But before I depart for my luxurious stay-cation I thought I’d have one more pre-Xmas bash at a blog post. I didn’t really cover the last session I did, and it was wonderful, so I thought I’d play the game I played a while back and describe some of the looks through a new name and what I was thinking about when I bought the frocks/played the role. You know, escapism and avoidance, all those wonderful things that keep us girls of a certain pre-defined gender sane day to day.

First though, why. Well, it’s the season, and as such I’m pretty much squiffy most of the time (yeah, tonight was a bottle of red wine night so excuse the melling spistakes). Secondly I’m fighting the wave.

Pictured – Red wine, moi?

If you’re a full time cross-dresser, or have the capabilities to do it whenever you want, you probably don’t experience the wave the way we part-time girls do. Basically you ride an emotional roller-coaster, riding up the first rise when you’re looking forward to, and preparing for, your day/days as your super-heroine alter-ego. Then you do it, and it’s joyous, and over so fast it seems like time has sped up just to annoy you. Then you have the afterglow, which in my case lasts for three to four days. Then you crash. You feel a rush of depression and sadness because she isn’t there, and you are him again. It comes and goes, for me at least, for a couple of weeks, and I’ve taken to calling it the wave, because missing her comes crashing down on me periodically.

Yeah, I miss Sarah. I miss being her, I miss the feeling of her, the undergarments, the way her clothes shape and hug, the smell of her perfume, the touch of her nails. And it’s palpable feeling of loss.

After a couple of weeks it stabilises. Then the drab world embraces me in it’s shitty toxic-masculinity embrace, and the only respite I get from the drudgery of trousers is…. writing blog posts. Well that and flirting online with admirers. And now, ta-dah, Instagram.

Oh yeah, I’ve discovered Instagram, ten years later than everyone else. Granted, I avoided it because you need to have an app on your phone and I wasn’t willing to cross-pollinate his online stuff with hers, but, well, see previous paragraphs on the wave. Sometimes the need to counter missing her overrides the sane approach of plausible deniability.

So now I’m scouring my twenty thousand or so pictures of Sarah (!!!!!) and mailing them from Sarah’s email account to drab’s email account, then saving it to his new work phone (again, risky but the wave commands) before uploading to her Instagram.

As I said in the previous blog post, it’s much harder for us non-binaries than the normal people 😉

I appear to have been distracted. I’ll chalk that down to the very nice bottle of Malbec I just sucked the last couple of drops from.

So, back to the topic at hand. I talked in previous posts about how hard it was to name ‘her indoors’, and how I ended up with Sarah because it was the name of the first girl I ever dated back when I was, err, ten. And because I love the name, when I hear it it just reeks of femininity, and to take it as my name is something that people unlike us (apologies for assuming you, dear reader, are like me, if you’re not please bear with me) will never understand or enjoy. Having a femm name by which people know you is another rush for me.

But I also talked about the fact that I liked, originally, to give every look I tried a different name, based on what I saw and thought. Well, it’s the same now, although Sarah is the one who picks the names, which makes it alright I guess. Plus I tend to imagine a back-story for each and every one of the looks I plan, and sometimes it is a lot of fun to get into that mindset. Again, escapism, but if you are frocking up and trying to stay ‘you’ it’s not as much fun. I’m a almost (sigh, very almost) fifty year old man who is staring down the barrel of excessive nose and ear hair, a beer gut that won’t quit until he looks six months pregnant and at least fifteen more years of work to pay off the house, so any chance to be anyone else is a joy.

Enough red-wine induced self-flagellation. I did a wonderful session with the sublime and irreplaceable Cindy at Boys Will Be Girls and, hell, here are the looks I chose and the names and back-stories of the girls I became…..

Rachel, happily (?) married housewife…..

“Rachel has been married for going on ten years now, two children, but she fears her husband is starting to, well, look else where. He’s not as forthcoming in the bedroom as he was, and she feels the need to try hard in terms of the way she looks to get him to see her again as he did before. Hence the lovely 1940s style frock, which she feels suits her figure, a touch of ‘over the top’ makeup and an explicit sense of needing some attention.”

See? It’s hard not to add a back-story when you are an author, plus you get to role-play situations you’d never get a chance to experience. Plus Rachel is kinda hot, if I may say so myself.

This was a ‘warmup’ frock – it takes Cindy a good couple of hours to work her magic with the beaten up, fully-functional alcoholic lump I provide her with, and after that much time in the chair I need to get the Sarah juices flowing. So I tend to pick something comfortable, something stylish but not one of my fave frocks, just to get the session going. This was different, fell in love with this frock the minute it flowed over my legs. And now it’s in my closet at home, part of Sarah’s ‘permanent’ collection. For when she wants to be Rachel again.

Julia, retro-obsessed ‘unhappy with modern life’ girl

“She hates modern styles, preferring to find the most retro clothes she can and flaunting it at work, where everyone else dresses to impress. So, when others show up in t-shirts and jeans she digs out her most retro Hellbunny frock, tucks a flower into her short hair, and flounces around to the disgust of her co-workers”

I don’t try short hair very often, I have a big man-head and the application of big hair always subsumes and hides that, but I think this look was pretty cute. A lovely friend of mine said it reminded her of Kaley Cuoco of Big Bang fame and I’ll take that and run with it 😉

Katherine, desperate Xmas-party goer…

“Since her boyfriend dumped her in the worst way a couple of months ago Katherine, Kay to her friends, has been messing about on the dating scene, Tinder and the like, to no avail. Now the Xmas party has come along so she is over-trying, much too short a dress for the office do if she was honest with herself, but she really needs a cuddle and a kiss before the inevitable Xmas at home alone, in her comfy pyjamas and with her beloved cat.”

I have a soft spot for this dress, it’s velvet and a joy to wear. Plus I’d like to cuddle with Katherine in front of the TV and watch some Xmas movies while we eat cold turkey and drink warm Prosecco…

Bridget, off on a date with her over-bearing boyfriend..

“She sometimes gets annoyed with herself. Her boyfriend, Tom, is overbearing and a little bit of a dominant arse. He said which dress she was to wear, and even specified the earrings, as big hoops really turn him on. And she should know better, but when it comes to men she is somewhat of a timid field-mouse. Still, there are rewards for giving him what he wants.”

I’ve been avoiding the figure hugging dresses lately as, well, drab me has taken to drinking more beer than he used to and exercising less, which could be a subconscious snub at Sarah. Or just laziness brought on by end of year exhaustion. Any way, I’ve had this frock in my closet for ages and it was a last minute addition to the bag-o-clothes for the sessions. In fact I had it in mind that the next time I dare the fondle-pool that is the Wayout Club this would be the outfit, but somehow I think that would end in tears, or at least a lot of (un)wanted attention from admirers.

Madame Anya Divine, mystical Tarot reader

“It’s always the same, desperate girls wanting to know when the love of their life will come, couples wanting to know if they will have children soon, or lone men asking for a reading just so they can talk to Anya.”

Yeah, I’m a tarot-reader in drab life on top of everything else, which makes a heady concoction – military, government, cyber-warfare, author, tarot. Spot the odd one out. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to do a tarot-reader look, partly because I’d give my testicles (probably literally) to be able to be one of those kind of tarot readers at the weekend. Interestingly this was a Lindy Bop frock, gorgeous blue velvet, lovely to wear. Really hard to take it off if I’m being honest.

Joanne, diehard Mad Men fanatic, on her first day of temp work.

“It’s only a four week temp job manning the front desk at an Investment Bank in the city, but since Joanne was a huge fan of the Mad Men show, particularly Joan, she couldn’t resist digging out her favourite 1950s style pencil dress for the occasion. And was beyond happy when one of older female co-workers commented on it and turned out to almost as big a fan as she was.”

One of my fave Lindy Bop dresses returned from the storage drawer where my frocks go to be forgotten. Love the way this looks and feels and yes, I’m a huge fan of Mad Men although, as I’ve mentioned before, it’s damn hard to follow the story when you keep dreaming about wearing the glorious frocks the actresses got to wear. And got paid to wear. There is no God 😉

Florence, on holiday in Bournemouth with the hubby and kids, 1963

“Picture of mum on holiday, 1963. She was always stylish, even when the rest of us were just in t-shirts and shorts. Dad said he never could work out how she ended up with him, she could have had anyone at the factory she wanted. She actually went on a couple of dates with the boss, Mr.Evans, but she always said he was too hand-sy and spent the entire meal on both occasions with his hand up her skirt.”

There’s something deliciously kinky about retro cross-dressing, it’s not just a surrender to a better and gentler gender, but a chance to be a woman in a different era. Plus any chance to flaunt a beehive and Sarah will jump at it.

Yvonne at the Xmas party

“Steer clear of the CTO’s PA Yvonne if you have any sense, George. She has a history of trying to kiss everyone at the Xmas party and I’m pretty sure she’ll end up with herpes at that rate. Or probably more accurately, you will, if half the stories of her messing about are true. She’s only been with the company nine months and now she’s the PA of the CTO? Sounds like she got there on her back, if you know what I mean.”

Hat was courtesy of Cindy and is a little rude, but pretty much something a drunken PA on the pull would wear. Not that I know, of course. It just seems wonderfully sexist and stereotypical and, well, very Yvonne.

Shelly, the sister-in-law you can’t help but have a teensy crush on

“I love it when your brother brings his wife around to our place, John. She’s so bubbly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without a smile on her face. And that dress, gorgeous. She lights up the room and I’ve never seen your brother so in love.”

Yeah, you can’t help but smile in a frock like this. It just seems to ticks all the girlie boxes I love – gorgeous pattern, nice length, Peter Pan collar. I don’t think I have a picture of Sarah in this ensemble without a lovely genuine smile on her face. Very pretty.

Diane, the poor blackmailed man forced to be the Banker’s wife

Not going to write a description of this one, having way too much fun concocting a scenario around a man who misses the payment of his mortgage and gets blackmailed into role-playing as the head Banker’s wife. This look was inspired by the Bank Manager needing his ‘wife’ to attend the funeral of a colleague.

Suffice to say, formal high-necked frilly black blouse, tight leatherette mini-skirt and sensible heels were a perfect choice for ‘Diane’. Again, way too much imagination went into this one.

And that was just the first day….

Anyway, the bottle of red is kicking in hard now so time for bed methinks.

Stay beautiful and be yourselves whenever you need to. And happy holidays if I don’t get a chance to write any more before Xmas.

Pictured – happy Xmas from Shelly 😉