After donning my mother's nylon stockings and high heel shoes and discovering that I was able to emulate the shapely legs of a woman just like the female impersonators of the 82 Club in New York City, I just had to push the envelope further.
The next time I was home free to explore my mother's wardrobe, I repeated my first time, that is, I slipped on a pair of her nylon stockings and high heel shoes.
I was well aware of the options available to women of the early 1960s to keep their nylons up and their seams straight. In my mother's case, she used the garters that were attached to a girdle.
I found her stash of girdles in a drawer of her bureau and had to choose from a variety of styles: open bottom, panty brief, long leg panty, high-waisted panty and high-waisted long-leg panty. I figured I needed all the help I could get, so I selected a high-waisted long-leg panty model.
I unzipped and unclasped the girdle, stepped into it and tugged it up over my legs, hips and waist. When I was finished squeezing into it, I closed its clasps and zipper with some difficulty. When I was done it felt like half of my torso was in the grips of a rubber vise.
After I attended to the nylons - straightening their seams and attaching them to the garters of the girdle - I swung open the closet door, viewed myself in the full-length mirror and concluded that the picture was incomplete.
The girdle had redistributed my "baby fat." As a result, my waist was narrower and my hips were wider, but above the waistband of the girdle, a ring of displaced fat encircled my body and ruined the picture.
I was sure I knew how to fix it --- it was time for my first bra!
My mother had a small selection of bras to choose from and they were all similar in style and size, so I randomly grabbed one and tried to figure out how to put it on.
I struggled unsuccessfully to close the bra's clasps while wearing the bra with its cups in front. So, I slipped the straps off my shoulders, twisted the bra around with the clasps in front of me, closed the clasps, twisted the bra back around, and slipped the straps over my shoulders --- and that’s the way I have been putting on a bra ever since.
After adjusting the straps of the bra, I was astonished that my breasts nearly filled the cups of the bra! My "boy boobs," which were the object of ridicule by my peers, now had a safe place to call "home."
And when I revisited the full-length mirror, the picture was now complete; there was the body of a shapely woman in the mirror's reflection.
Femulator in 1965 street style.