Long Weekends Are Made For Femulating, Part 2

Long Weekends Are Made For Femulating, Part 1

CROSSDRESSING IS WINNING!!!

CROSSDRESSERS — STRONG, CONFIDENT, BEAUTIFUL!!! NOBODY WALKS IN HEELS BETTER. BELIEVE ME!! THE FAKE NEWS WON'T ADMIT IT, BUT CROSSDRESSERS HAVE STYLE, CLASS, AND COURAGE. AMERICA LOVES THEM!!! CROSSDRESSERS ARE DOING INCREDIBLE WORK — TRULY FABULOUS. PEOPLE ARE SAYING IT, AND THEY'RE RIGHT! HIGH HEELS, BEAUTIFUL DRESSES, HANDBAGS,  — THE BEST LOOKS. SO MANY AMAZING MEN IN DRESSES — LOOKING BETTER THAN HOLLYWOOD! THEY TURN HEADS ON FIFTH AVENUW! TREMENDOUS CONFIDENCE. EVERYBODY LOVES IT. CROSSDRESSING IS WINNING!!! WE SUPPORT FREEDOM — AND IF FREEDOM MEANS WEARING A SKIRT WITH THE BEST LEGS IN TOWN, THEN WE LOVE FREEDOM! NO ONE WEARS IT BETTER. HEELS HIGH, SKIRTS SHORT — LOOKING GREAT FOR OUR COUNTRY. MAKE FASHION GREAT AGAIN!!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS MATTER. — SJH

Wearing Joseph Ribkoff

Jonny Beauchamp femulating on television’s Katy Keene.

Flight of the Phoenix

By Norah Blucher

When we last parted I had set out to fly en femme, only to be grounded by delays after making it through security and waiting for hours. As I awoke the next morning to try it all again, I half thought of just not bothering to fly en femme, and just get home. It had been a long trip already and I doubt anyone would blame me.

But something told me no. I had overcome a lot in my life to get to this point and could not turn back now. Not everything in life works as we would like and I had no excuse to not give it another go, so just as the phoenix rises from the ashes, I too would conquer this yet and make it home... en femme! (And yes, I love the movie The Flight of the Phoenix with Jimmy Stewart and no, I’ve not seen the new version, LOL).

I did not know it at the time, but this would also mark a profound shift in my thinking and life in general. A shift in which much of my life, barring any true barriers, would be as female.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Returning the rental car and checking in went smoothly as before and I then proceeded to TSA security and as I got in line with all of one person ahead of me, I noted someone different running the ID checks that day.

I smiled and handed her my passport, she looked at my passport and then looked at me. Then at my passport again and then again at me. She did this several times, squinting, holding the passport to the side and so on and the whole thing reminded me of some standoff in an old western movie.

I truly did not know what to think. Part of me was nervous that this was going to be a big deal, but I just continued to look at her and smile, cocking my head a bit as if to say “is there a problem?” As dramatic as it all sounds, the whole ordeal took but 15 or 20 seconds, but seemed like an eternity before she closed my passport and handed it back stating “the eyes match.” I smiled and said “I look a right bit different today, don’t I?” to which I got no reaction. Oh well.

In actuality, I was thrilled over the moon with all this. I mean really, if someone trained in facial recognition had trouble discerning my ID photo from what they saw, how likely was it I would ever be recognized when out and about?

Moving over to the conveyor belt, the same chap as yesterday began telling me to take electronics from my bag and then looked at me and noted “didn’t you come through here yesterday?” I said that indeed I had, but things didn’t work out so I decided to spend another night. He then asked if I was on that delayed flight and said I had made the right choice, as it never came in until around midnight. I said I had a feeling as such and the last thing I ever want to do when dealing with a screwy flight schedule is go further from home.

Walking through the scanner, I set something off again and once more a female agent approached me and checked my wrists and asked me to hold my hair up as she patted around my neck. It was all quick and easy, my bags were awaiting me on the other side of the belt and once again I was in!

Up, Up and Away!

I always find flying to be a crap shoot of sorts and always make a habit of ensuring I have food, drinks and eat a good meal before starting out. Delays, waiting on a runway forever, diverting and so forth are all real possibilities, so I made sure to get prepared as I awaited my flight. This time around everything went as it should though, and without too long a wait, I was boarding the plane.

It was actually an enjoyable flight I must say. I had no seatmate next to me, the weather was fab and views were great. I ate the biscuits they were handing out, the flight attendant was friendly, I listened to some music and as far as I could tell, no one was paying the least it of attention to me.

Before I knew it we were landing in Washington, DC, but most of my flights are not direct, and involve a stop and a plane change somewhere. In not unexpected fashion, the night had just begun.

The Layover

Reagan International Airport or DCA in airport code, is a place I’m at often enough and all in all, it is not a bad place to be and with a few hours to kill, I had plenty of time to look around.

I’d had my heart set on looking at some clothes at the Brooks Brothers’ store and perhaps try some things on, only to find the store had closed. To be right honest, with the way 99% of people dress at an airport, I’m not surprised a store like that failed in an airport. No worries though as I had plenty to browse in the book stores.

I think the highlight, however, was the Smithsonian store. I had always admired the interesting jewelry they sell and had always looked, but today was different. On this day, I actually had them get a few things out for me to try on! I actually came close to buying a necklace, but decided against it. I have to say it was still fun though.

I planned for my final stop to be a meal at Legal Seafood, a place I often enjoy at DCA. It was not horribly busy on a Sunday evening and I had a rather quiet but enjoyable meal and also enjoyed my favorite drink that they make, The Moulin Rouge.

I began to head over to my gate when I checked the flight board and noted I had just been delayed. Here we go again.

If you’ve never seen it, the Tom Hanks movie The Terminal is quite good and the main character, played by Hanks, get stranded at an airport in New York due to a coup in his home country and he is forced to live at the airport. Now I know myself or anyone I know, has ever been faced with that, but some times it feels that way and you just wonder if you will ever get home.

Are We Ever Getting Home?

Flight delays are unfortunately common in my flying travel, so I wandered over to a section of DCA that has some comfortable lounge chairs and footrests to settle in. I was enjoying my time en femme, felt in no particular hurry and pulled out the tablet to watch some shows.

And the delays kept mounting. I had started out with a few episodes of Gilmore Girls before tiring of them and moving on to Absolutely Fabulous. By the time I had digressed to YouTube videos of Essex girl jokes, it was after 10 PM and I just wanted to get the bloody hell home and was not in a particularly comical mood. I checked the flight tracker and noted my incoming plane had not even taken off yet and I truly began to fear I’d be spending another night in a hotel to try again the next day.

Wandering over to the airline service desk I politely inquired if there was an issue and a real possibility the flight was just going to be cancelled. The lady behind the counter looked at me horrified and in a sickeningly saccharine tone asked why I would think such a thing? “I don’t know?” I thought, “perhaps the fact that this particular airline seems to like ditching me has something to do with it?”

None of that was her fault though and I was very polite to her and said I was just checking. I have to say though, when you are in one of the country’s busiest airports and three tracking boards are blank and you are waiting on one of the four remaining incoming flights, it is rather disheartening. Are you starting to see why Norah drives everywhere perhaps?

I was so knackered at this point, I cannot even tell you what I watched on the tablet. I just wanted to doze off, but in these situations they can switch gates on you, find another plane and tell you to board right away or any number of things, so I did not dare doze and wandered into a nearby bathroom to touch up my makeup so as not to scare the other passengers if we did get on a plane.

A female traveler at the airport in Atlanta once told me a great tip about flying to small airports as I often do. She advised booking the last flight out as 1. when flights are cancelled or delayed throughout the day, people keep getting shifted to later flights and it eventually fills up, with priority going to those who booked it originally. And 2. barring some sort of mechanical failures, the last flight is rarely cancelled as they often need the plane for the first flight the next morning. It may get horrendously delayed, but it will usually get you home.

I must say her advice has served me well before and I hoped it would do so again.

Boarding Call

Finally, somewhere around midnight or so I think, a plane arrived and we began to board. I’m not one to get excited until we actually get airborne and thankfully on this night we had no further delays.

I was so knackered at this point I really do not recall much of the flight and think I dozed on and off. I did have a seatmate this time though and there really was not much for interaction between us.

I was so relieved when we finally landed and though I still had a long drive home, at least I knew I was getting home this night. It had been a long ordeal for sure, but it was still elating to know I had finally done it. I had crossed a barrier many of us do not get to and came out unscathed. 

Frequent Flyer Miles?

As thrilling as it was, I must say flying en femme has not exactly become the norm for me. Long days, complex schedules and sometimes meeting workmates on the day of travel, does not always allow for it. I’ve flown a few more time since then en femme, but in many ways, flying was not the most profound.

No, I think overcoming this hurdle though gave me the confidence to do other things. Things which I found more challenging in the end, but which I could not have done without taking a few more steps up the ladder of my own journey.

So loves, though nothing terribly exciting happened in my flying adventure, I hope it did not disappoint. The glamourous days of flying may be in the past, but if you are going to spend a day at the airport, it is a right bit more fun en femme!

Wearing Paige

Paco León femulating on Mexican television’s La Casa de las Flores.

What’s Up?

Wearing Boston Proper

I was intrigued by this photo that I found on Pinterest last week. Were these just four guys fooling around or were they posing in fashion-forward outfits that they normally wear. I suspected the former, but I could not find anything on the Internet that revealed the story behind this photo. If anyone has a clue, please let me know.

Stuff 85: Soaring

By J.J. Atwell

Caution: Philosophical Discussion

Today I’d like to venture a bit off the path of my usual musings. I’ve mentioned in the past that sometimes my mind goes off in different directions. For some reason, the early 70’s novella Jonathan Livingston Seagull popped into my head. 

For those who are not as old as I am, you might want to read the book or click here to read a summary of the book on Wikipedia.

TLDR

Yes, the book might be a bit too long for you to read. I don’t really expect you to read the whole book right now. Or even ever. The Wikipedia article is pretty good at describing the adventures of Jonathan Livingston Seagull (henceforth JLS). It’s an allegorical story about a seagull who learns that there is more to life than just being part of the flock. 

As the story unfolds, JLS expands his goal in life from more than just eating and surviving day-to-day as part of the flock. Instead JLS learns how to fly further and faster. He learns how to do tricks. To be a spectacular flyer. While others in the flock just think he is odd and some disavow him, he continues his quest. In the end, JLS has learned much about himself in his life quest. 

You Lost Me

What does the story of JLS have to do with the regular followers of Femulate in general, and my Stuff columns in particular, you may ask. Well, I warned you above that this was going to be a philosophical discussion. For those that followed my suggestion to check Wikipedia or even to read the whole book, try going back and substituting CD, TG or TS for the references to JLS. 

As we have progressed on our femme journey, we can relate to what the seagull experienced. It is us who are soaring above the flock. It is us who are leaving the squabbling flock below. As CDs (or whatever) we are different from the flock. We have a different lives and experience things differently.

I’ll Be Back

When you return from your JLS flight I’ll be back with more conventional Stuff. How would you like to hear about my participation in a beauty pageant. Never mind, don’t answer that. I’ve already written it and Stana will be publishing it as she see fit. I welcome comments either here on the blog or by email to Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com. (The picture at the top of this installment of Stuff was created by ChatGPT.)

Wearing BGL

 

Bunny Lewis femulating in the British film A Couple of Beauties.

Fellows in Frocks

 

The Sky’s The Limit

By Norah Blucher

I’ve done a lot since making my debut upon the world as an out and about woman. I’ve attended trans events, skied, attended formal symphonies, been to seven states and immersed myself into society as an everyday woman. I’ve done more as female than I ever thought I would, but in almost fifty days out as female (I have actually lost track, but it is somewhere around there) one goal has eluded me, flying en femme.

Though I would much prefer to drive, I fly fairly often and my work would actually prefer I flew more and drove less, so I have ample opportunities, but had been waiting for the right time. I thoughtfully started paring down what I needed on trips, contemplated a right bit about how I would pull it off and sought advice from others who had done it about what to expect. I was nervous for sure, but patiently waited for the right trip to have a go at it.

A while back now, I had a trip to New York and Connecticut planned, and my car then needed some repairs, so I decided to fly. I was also planning to attend an event as Norah with one of my sisters, which meant Norah would be checking a bag, so this seemed as good a time as any. I had envisioned my first flight en femme to be an easy non-stop from LaGuardia or something, but instead it would be on the way home from little White Plains, NY, with a layover and everything, so following much of my other exploits en femme, I’d be jumping into this head first as well. Here we go!

The Saga Begins

It had been a long week already with a right more rigorous schedule than usual that included working a Saturday, topped off with a T-Girl party on Saturday night. I was quite knackered to say the least, but was thankfully able to sleep in on Sunday and take my sweet time getting ready for my 5 PM flight home on Sunday.

Once I get a routine down I’m good, but it took me a bit to reconfigure everything. All my work stuff is in a rather male type bag, so I had brought my female travel tote to carry with me, and utilized my roll aboard suitcase to hold all the work kit. My large checked bag which had gotten all my femme kit this far was now rather empty with me wearing my shapewear, wig and everything. My male clothing thus went into the large checked suitcase and my tote contained my wallet, snacks and my usual essentials plus some makeup essentials and hair brush.

Now I know you are all wondering what I wore, and it may not be what you expected. I had always envisioned my first femme flight in some sort of business attire, my heels clicking through the terminals of Laguardia, JFK or Logan airports, but not today. Though they often go smoothly, flying between smaller airports can sometimes turn into an adventure worthy of Tolken, the length of which is often unknown. I wanted to be comfortable, but did not want to digress into the gym wear I see so many females travel in now. 

I settled upon a nice pair of jeans with my block heeled Mary Janes which would be comfortable to stand or walk in a reasonable distance if necessary. I also chose a nice green square neck tee I had recently gotten from an LL Bean outlet on a previous trip. I have come to love this top and ordered more as unlike much of the clothing today, it has not much stretch, but has a very feminine cut and is not clingy. It drapes nicely and gives me a reasonably good shape without a corset. It was a bit chilly so I wore a light zip up sweater as well so I would not have to mess my hair up pulling something over my head when going through security. I also packed a light cashmere poncho to wear once I cleared security. Ponchos are quite fab in that they hide any un female irregularities from a lack of corset, allow a lot of freedom of movement when wrangling bags and also allow you to inconspicuously adjust your bra straps or something in the less than private cattle cars we consider airplanes these days. Truly think about it. Aside from your own spouse or family, modern air travel puts you in closer contact with other humans than most anything else and even that depends on your relationship with your spouse, LOL.

Anyway, after all this there was little time to spare as I headed off toward the airport.

Checking In

Dropping off the rental car was as uneventful as I had imagined it would be and though they confirm your ID when checking a bag, I’ve never endured any scrutiny at this point. It all went smoothly and the lady checking my bag even commented on the cool weather and complimented me on my sweater! So far so good.

Next was going through TSA security, the part I was the least sure of. I’m so comfortable out as Norah at this point that I had no real fears, but I was curiously nervous how this would go, mainly due to my shapewear. You typically have to remove jackets, sweaters, shoes and what not to go into the scanner. Women obviously wear bras with no issue, but mine contained silicone breast forms and I had on a right bit more under my jeans than a silky pair of knickers, wearing my usual padded panty with a shapewear short containing my silicone bum and hip pads. Would this be an issue? Only one way to find out and as long as they took me to a private room, I could not care less if they wanted to search me. A pain for sure, but I had nothing to hide.

As for IDs, I know a lot of to-do has been happening with gender markers and such, but in my case I have a non Real ID driving license with my male picture and marker and thus travel with my passport, which also denotes me as male and has a picture of the male I sometimes pretend to be. I’ve done the ID things many many times checking into hotels and such and it has never been a big deal to me personally. When dealing with legal situations like police, entering a secure building and now TSA, I am genetically a male, with a legal male name. My picture shows me in my raw form just as the thousands of other females who rolled out of bed and took a horrid ID photo. My hair color with a wig does not match my ID just like every girl who dyes her hair and if I want to wear female clothes and makeup that is my business. I’m no different than David Bowie or Jon Bon Jovi taking a flight, LOL. So with this all in mind, I next headed over to the TSA line.

I do not have Pre-Check or anything, so off to the commoner’s line I went, which consisted of just me. I told you this was a small airport! The young chap at the desk called me over and I handed him my passport and looked into the camera. The chap then looked at the passport, then at me and perhaps hesitated a bit more than I am used to, before handing it back and biding me a good day.

Over at the bins and scanner another chap greeted me and told me to remove my sweater, belt and shoes. He then asked the dreaded question, do you have any electronics? To which I replied I had a right many, so lets get some more bins!

Ugh! I do hate this. Most airports now have you keep everything in your bag, but a few have you remove electronics. If I am familiar with an airport, I prepare for this accordingly, but such was not the case that day. So I opened my bag and removed the work bag and started pulling out the work computer, my personal computer, the iPad, and pulled my wallet containing my phone from my tote. Satisfied we had everything out, it was all sent through the scanner and I was sent over to the human scanner.

I walked in, held my hands up and was asked to step out by the bloke standing guard at the scanner… and also to stand to the side. Oh boy, what now?

Without even asking a preference on my part, a female agent came over to me and smiled and said she needed to check my wrists, which she did and then she informed me she had to check around my neck and she just ran her fingers around my neck under my shirt before smiling and sending me on my way. She did not say and I did not ask, but I guess my bracelets and necklace required further inspection. And with that my bins emerged from the scanner and I was off. I had made it in!

I Will Get Home, Won’t I?

Having passed that hurdle, I was on cloud nine and was then instantly deflated, the first leg of my flight was delayed. Okay, let’s get some food.

This was a small airport and had no restaurant and no bar. I went to the little convenience store, got some soda, a pre-packaged charcuterie spread, some biscuits and settled in at the eating area. I dug out my computer and got some work done while I waited. No big deal, happens all the time.

And then I waited some more. And then more again. Delay after delay was announced, and I learned that my incoming flight had been diverted due to a mechanical issue and would not be coming until it was fixed. I was initially comfortable knowing I had an almost four-hour layover at Reagan airport in Washington, DC, but that was quickly shrinking. And then I watched my connecting flight get delayed as this whole thing turned into a neck-and-neck horse race as I waited to see if the gap would close or if I could get home.

On the bright side, I had a bit of conversation to pass the time. I’m not sure if this was a friendly place or it was due to me being female, but a few other women were quite chatty with me. The lady perched on a stool near me was also on my flight and working also, but we both periodically stopped, chatted a bit and then went to work again. 

At one point, another lady came and sat for a bit on the stool between us and we had quite a lovely conversation. Nothing more than friendliness, but she was quite open about where she was from, having used to live in the area and returning to visit family, etc. She also seemed quite interested in me and where I was from and we discovered we had once lived very near each other in a different state. Such a small world! She chatted a bit with the other lady as well and then left to catch her flight, biding us, “I wish you ladies good luck and a safe trip.”

As a side note, I must say these interactions never cease to thrill me, but also leave me confused as well. I’ve no complaints whatsoever, but time after time I have these interactions and I seemingly am not read or if I am, no one lets on that they find me different and I am just regarded as another female and treated as such.

At one point, I had to use the ladies’ room and after doing my business went to wash up. These public bathrooms at airports are always a game show. You have five sinks each with their own automatic faucet, soap and dryer or towel dispenser… and seldom do all things work at any one spot. Like a rerun of Keystone Cops, one has to wet their hands, slide over to another sink to get soap, go back and rinse and then find a dispenser with towels. Such was the case that night and as I fought with a towel dispenser another lady laughed and called me over when she found one that worked, LOL. I guess we were all having a moment this day.

Returning to my stool, the other lady on my flight informed me of a further delay and I watched my connection time shrink to three minutes… if this was the last delay.

A mate of mine who once traveled the world for business once described travel in the Northeast U.S. as a series of bad bets. No airports fly directly to each other, trains run weird routes and drop you off in one spot, necessitating you find your own way to the next train and traffic on the roads can be a nightmare. A series of bad bets for sure, and in today’s craps game, I just rolled snake eyes. It was 9 PM at this point and I was giving up and went to the service desk to rebook for the next day.

A woman with a baby had just berated the lady at the desk, as the airline app kept showing us delays, but they had not informed us at the airport. I realized it was not her fault and was as nice as possible. She said the plane was about to depart and head our way, but I said three minutes to connect was too close for me.

As she rebooked me, I knew I had made the right call as her radio announced the incoming plane had just returned to the gate in Norfolk, VA, with more mechanical issues and they were looking for a new plane to put everyone on. Flying en femme would have to wait I guess.

Comraderie of Females

As I returned to my stool, I informed the lady I had been chatting with that I was throwing in the towel and she said she was too. We were both on our computers making arrangements for the night, and what happened next surprised me.

Asking where I was staying, she informed me she had found a good deal at one of the nearby hotels and inquired about splitting an Uber! There was nothing naughty in this that I could detect and it sort of confirmed that she was either reading me as completely female all this time or at least an extremely unthreatening T-Girl, as I cannot picture a solo traveling female telling a bloke where she was staying and offering to share a ride, would they?

My work prefers us to stay at certain chains and has no reservations about us getting rental cars and I informed her of where I was going, I was renting a car and extended an offer back to her. She declined as my place had more expensive rates, but we wished each other well and parted ways.

As I returned to the rental car counter, someone from the airline was waiting to return my checked bag to me and the bloke at the counter remembered me from earlier and looked confused to see me again and assumed I had an issue with my rental. I laughed and told him everything was fine and the airline had decided I was going to stay another night. He checked me in with a car and I headed to my hotel for the night.

Halfway to the hotel it occurred to me that I had never rented a car en femme, and I had just done it without giving it a thought. Perhaps I was just so knackered or perhaps I’m just so comfortable out in the world as Norah that I do not differentiate much between my two sides anymore.

Anyway, it was a horrid day for travel, but I had gotten through the hard parts. I had just not stepped on a plane. As I went to bed I really did not think I had it in me to do this en femme another day and figured I would travel back home en homme. The whole trip had been bloody exhausting, but I still felt a sense of accomplishment, coming as far as I had, and felt it had been worth the effort.

As always, loves, questions or comments are welcome below or you can email me at nblucher at-sign proton dot me.

Wearing Rag & Bone

Luis Montalbert femulates Kylie Minogue on Costa Rican television’s Tu Cara Me Suena. Click here to view this femulation on YouTube.

Let’s Make Up

I received an e-mail from a reader who is having problems with her makeup regime. She has bought books on the subject and visited websites to hone her makeup skills, but she complains that the “experts” are often in disagreement about how to apply makeup. She asked me for help.

I made two suggestions.

Experiment.

If the experts disagree, try doing it each way that they recommend. Then see what works best for you and incorporate that into your makeup routine.

I have been at it seriously for nearly 40 years and I still experiment with my routine. If I find something new that may work for me, I try it. If it works, great; if not, I chalk it up to experience.

Get made over.

You can read books, visit websites and watch videos on makeup application, but nothing beats getting a makeover. When you get a makeover, the cosmetician will do her magic on you (and not some model in a book or video), so whatever she does will be specific to you. And you can ask questions and take notes to your heart's content.

Getting a makeover may be easier said, than done. I live in a progressive part of the USA and I have never been turned down when I sought a makeover, whether it was in a small local salon or a big franchise store in the mall.

Your mileage may vary depending on where you live. If you live in the country, head for the city, specifically a mall near a city. In my experience, M•A•C and Sephora are franchise makeup stores located in many malls that will makeover femulators without hesitation. (I have had makeovers at both. For what it's worth, my best makeover experience ever was at Sephora in the West Farms Mall in West Hartford, Connecticut.)

Wearing Shein

Two Muxes