Tuesday, July 1, 2014

The Build Up

By Michelle

UK Femulate reader Michelle recounts her day en femme at Royal Ascot.

clip_image002The story so far…

The idea was hatched at the British Grand Prix last summer, when I explained to my friend (and one of the three people who “knew about me”), that I had an ambition to go to Ascot. I didn’t want to go in a group because I would feel too conspicuous.

That was when he offered to go with me if I wanted him to – well, there’s an offer I couldn’t refuse. He even suggested a “dry run,, so we met up for lunch October. When he saw me en femme “in the flesh” for the first time, happily, he coped well. Now read on…

The first barriers on the road to Royal Ascot had been overcome, but others awaited. How could I tell my wife?

She is wonderfully accepting and often joins me on nights (and days) out. This was different, however, and when I first told her of my plans, she was less than enthusiastic. Mainly, I think, because she thought I was taking a big risk. I didn’t want to go if she was really against it, but the first response from her didn’t actually say that.

Time went by and I found it very difficult to raise the subject again – and it was stressful not knowing. Eventually I broached the subject again a few weeks before I was due to go and again she was non-committal, but asked me the date and said because there was a meeting at work on that day, she couldn’t come (and I had no alternative day I could do it). I took that to mean “I wish you weren’t going,” but not “I’m stopping you going.”

Before deciding whether or not to go ahead and buy the tickets, I had to get back to my friend to check whether he was still free. At first, he wasn’t sure, but after an agonizing few days, he got back to me to say that he was. Great – I’ll get the tickets.

clip_image004I was surprisingly nervous when calling the box office to buy the tickets. I suppose this was the point where it was obvious that I was going, yet my wife still didn’t know at that point. Anyway, the payment was made and £130 was debited from our account. I texted my friend, “Excellent” was his response. This was good news as I was concerned he had lost his original enthusiasm for the visit.

This was a continuing theme during the few weeks leading up to “the big day” as texts and e-mails to him always took days to get a reply (this is not his usual style). I have since learned that was “slightly nervous” beforehand and this was obviously an issue. We had a conversation on the day before the big meet up, however, and decided we would not attempt to go to the racecourse by car, but meet at a train station and continue on public transport.

I haven’t said what I decided to wear. Well, the photos show you, but there were many alternatives, so I hope you like my choice. The shoes were a last minute thing. I didn’t have many that fitted me well enough for a whole day (or indeed fitted the Royal Ascot bill). Just over a week before I was due to go, I had to go and pick up a car full of items for someone and on the way, I stopped for a coffee at a nice little town we know.

As I sat looking out over my drink, I noticed a charity shop on the other side of the road. I thought it may be worth a visit before I continued on my way. I walked in and soon saw it was, as there was a whole range of UK size 9 high-heeled shoes (this was meant to be).

Nobody knew me in this town, so without embarrassment, I tried on the most likely pair and they fitted well. Now I did have a problem; as I said I had a whole car full of “stuff” to pick up and possibly nowhere to hide the shoes. Should I buy the shoes and take the risk? I could only get one pair; I certainly couldn’t hide any more than that. £4.50 for a pair of unused, fashionable, 4-inch stilettos and in the right size, too? Yes, I should take the risk!

I bought the shoes and when I got back to the car, I hid them next to the spare tire, even though big heels are not the easiest things to fit into confined spaces (perhaps you may know this already). When I arrived at my destination, loading the car was done under close supervision from me and there was hardly an inch to spare – any more to put in and we well have considered using the spare wheel section of the boot. Phew!

I now had to hope we didn’t have a puncture on the journey home, as there would have been explaining to do to my passenger. Anyway, no punctures and once back home, I transferred the shoes safely to my bedroom.

The dress has nice memories for me – a purchase from Marks and Spencer’s Per Una range and the first item of clothing I ever bought whilst en femme; it seemed right for Ascot. The makeup was very much a rushed in the car affair because on that morning I was running late and it looked that way. I wish I could have gone back and started again, but “that’s life.”

clip_image006Three days before the big day, my wife had got a readout on our bank account and saw the £130 withdrawal. I said it was for Ascot. She was satisfied with that and said no more. I really didn’t want to force the situation on her and waited for her to ask further questions, which she didn’t, so no more was said. However, as she went to work on Tuesday, she asked what I was doing that day. I said “Going to Ascot” to which she asked “Is it today? Have a good day. The weather looks good.”

Well, there you are. Months of anguish finished off with “Have a good day.”

She left for work and I shaved, loaded up the car (double-checking that I had everything) and left for a day at Royal Ascot!

Michelle’s Day at Royal Ascot continues here tomorrow.





Source: Vogue 





Circa 1970 femulating.


  1. For a woman to go out dressed nicely takes a little bit of planning. For one of us to do the same it sometimes feels like the preparation for the D-Day invasion of Normandy.
    I can feel your angst and anticipation. I am glad that you followed thorugh.

  2. What a wonderful story!!! Thanks :)

  3. Can't wait for the rest of the story.