A Time and Place

I encourage crossdressers to leave the closet and experience the world as women. After spending too many years hiding, I learned that most of my fears about going out were far worse than anything I actually encountered.

Nevertheless, there is a time and a place for everything, even femulating.

The mere presence of a crossdresser does not make a place or event inappropriate. If you regularly live as a woman, you should be able to attend most places and events as yourself. The important questions are whether your clothing suits the occasion and whether your appearance will unintentionally make someone else’s moment all about you.

For example, a wedding is not the ideal occasion for your public debut unless the couple knows and approves. A wedding belongs to the bride and groom. Showing up en femme for the first time might attract attention that should be directed toward them.

The same consideration applies to funerals and memorial services. These occasions call for quiet respect, conservative clothing and as little distraction as possible. If the deceased’s family knows you as a woman, attending en femme may be perfectly appropriate. If they do not, that may not be the best time to introduce them to your feminine side. However, if you knew only the deceased and are unacquainted with the family and other mourners, attending as a conservatively dressed woman may be acceptable because no one would know you otherwise.

Religious ceremonies, graduations, award presentations and important family celebrations also require good judgment. Again, crossdressing is not inherently disrespectful. Turning someone else’s meaningful occasion into your personal coming-out party may be.

Court appearances, official government business and situations involving identification or security can require additional thought. Your appearance should reasonably resemble the photograph on your identification, and you should be prepared to respond calmly if questions arise. Confidence is helpful; confrontation is not.

Some places may be physically unsuitable rather than socially inappropriate. A construction site, hiking trail or muddy outdoor festival probably calls for practical footwear and clothing. Four-inch pumps may look wonderful at the mall, but they are not safety equipment.

There are also events where crossdressing is encouraged, but presenting as an ordinary woman might still be misunderstood. At a costume party, for example, people may assume that your carefully coordinated outfit is merely a joke. That never stopped me on Halloween, but it is something to anticipate.

The simplest rule is the same one most women follow: dress appropriately for the place, the weather and the occasion. Do not wear a cocktail dress to a picnic, a miniskirt to a funeral or stilettos to tour a factory.

And do not use someone else’s special day to test your passing meter.

Going out en femme should be enjoyable, natural and respectful. If your presence will not endanger anyone, violate a legitimate rule or steal attention from the person being honored, there are very few places where it is truly inappropriate.

Usually, it is not crossdressing that is inappropriate.

It is simply wearing the wrong thing at the wrong time—and women have been dealing with that question forever.

Wearing Boston Proper

Alan Hale, Jr., Jim Backus and Russell-Johnson femulating on television’s Gilligan's Island (1967).
Click here to view this femulation on YouTube.

Found Couldn't Find A Thing To Wear

Sunday evening, I was browsing videos on YouTube when I came across this YouTube Short.

Wow! It looked very familiar. I was sure I had created an image illustrating the same joke, so I searched through my collection and found the original, which I had created in December 2024.

The video is a near-perfect animation of my image, using the exact same words, background,  dresses, etc.!

I have to admit, I was impressed. I just wish whoever animated my image had let me know. I would have enjoyed seeing what they had done—and would have appreciated being given credit for the original.

Soldier femulating during the "Ladies of the Chorus" musical number in the 1943 film This Is The Army.

Wearing JustFab

Firsts

One day last week, the disc jockey on a local FM oldies station asked listeners to call in and name the first record, LP or 45, they ever purchased.

Listening to their responses was a trip down memory lane. Many of their “firsts” were records that I had also purchased.

For the record, the first 45 I ever bought was “Quarter to Three” by Gary U.S. Bonds.

My first LP purchase was “Beach Boys Concert.”

That got me thinking about some of the other firsts in my life—like my first car, a 1972 Buick Opel 1900.

And my crossdressing firsts—like the first dress that I actually purchased rather than borrowed.

Or my first wig, which came from Frederick’s of Hollywood instead of my sister’s closet. 

Those were just a few of my firsts.

And so it goes.

Wearing Boston Proper

Cary Grant considering a wardrobe change in the 1940 film My Favorite Wife.

Handbag Ha-Ha’s

Family Trees: Pantyhose, High Heels and Secrets

By Paula Gaikowski (paula.gaikowski@gmail.com)

Genealogy is supposed to be about tracing neat, orderly lines on a pedigree chart—tidy little boxes connected by clean black ink. But once you start digging, you realize that family trees are less like botanical diagrams and more like overgrown thickets filled with strange fruit, hidden roots and things that crawled out from under the porch when nobody was looking.

Take my office, for instance. A cold Maine winter provides the optimum environment for genealogical excavation. There is nothing quite like being tucked away upstairs, perfectly content and often fully dressed as my alter ego, complete with high heels clicking against the floorboards like a very industrious secretary. Happy as can be, I stare at census records and ship manifests, pondering the great mystery of how we all ended up the way we are.

The golden rule of genealogy is to begin by researching yourself. Having spent the Covid years and several Maine winters doing just that—and writing extensively about what I found—I have managed to uncover some absolute blockbusters.

I discovered family members who disappeared entirely, relatives who were arrested and sent to prison, courageous souls who served in underground resistance movements during World War II and others who tragically perished in concentration camps. They are the kinds of stories that could make a magnificent book or a gripping television documentary, and I am usually more than happy—often far too eager—to discuss them with practically anyone who wanders into my crosshairs.

But then there is that other subject: being transgender. That is something I can discuss only with you, my Femulate sisters, and perhaps the quiet ghosts of my lineage.

My brother died of cancer a few years ago. He was the quintessential rugged, tough bachelor construction worker—the kind of guy you could picture building a bridge with one hand while effortlessly hoisting a steel beam with the other.

After he died, I became executor of his estate and had the rather revealing responsibility of going through his computer files. And there it was among his apps: “Cosmopolitan Makeover.” He had uploaded photographs of himself and experimented with makeup and hairstyles, exploring a side of himself that the world never saw.

I was not entirely surprised. Years earlier, I had spotted a hint of it on his computer and simply kept the observation to myself. He never came out to the family, but his browsing history revealed a map of digital destinations that we sisters would recognize.

The apple, as they say, does not fall far from the tree. It just puts on pantyhose and heels.

Naturally, this makes my mind wander backward along the paternal branch as I try to decode the men who came before us. I can rely only on supposition and lingering feelings, but when I look in the mirror, the resemblance to my father is not merely physical. It seems behavioral, emotional—almost cellular.

My father never really dated. His marriage resulted from a traditional matchmaking arrangement, much like my own. My wife is the only woman I have ever dated and the only woman I have ever been with. My father’s experience was much the same.

His father divorced, never remarried and lived entirely alone until the day he died, without another partner or girlfriend. Going back another generation, my great-grandfather did not marry until he was 32, through a traditional village matchmaking arrangement in Poland in 1880.

So there I am, sitting at my desk while the New England winter rages outside, dressed as a 1980s secretary in support pantyhose, a pencil skirt that renegotiates its terms every time I sit down and heels clicking against the floorboards with the urgent tempo of someone about to page middle management regarding the copier.

And I wonder.

Was my father transgender and hiding it? What about his father, living out his solitary years? What about my great-grandfather? Can something like this pass quietly through a bloodline—an invisible inheritance tucked away in the DNA?

Deep down, something tells me there is a common thread, a shared secret rippling through the generations. Then my rational side pipes up and says that I am merely seeing what I want to see and feeling what I want to feel.

Perhaps every sixty-something man in a pair of pumps looks at a photograph of a stoic ancestor and thinks, “Ah, yes, Grandpa. Beneath that scratchy 1940s wool three-piece suit and patriotic war-bond lapel pin, you were clearly pining for a rayon slip, Victory Red lipstick and a smart pair of Allied-rationed seamed nylon stockings.”

Yet, as I sit at my desk adjusting my Spanx, I cannot shake the feeling that family history is about more than names and dates on certificates. Sometimes it brings the sobering realization that you may not be the first person in your bloodline to master the art of looking entirely conventional while secretly wishing you were somewhere else—wearing something infinitely better.

Wearing Boston Proper

Blogger Kandi Robbins (left) of Kandi's Land fame appears in Key To The Mint’s music video for “Vodka In July.”
Click here to view this video on YouTube.

A Side Effect I Never Expected

When I began taking carbidopa-levodopa for Parkinson’s disease, I expected possible side effects such as nausea, dizziness or involuntary movements. I did not expect to encounter a warning about impulse control disorders.

Dopamine-replacement medications increase or imitate dopamine in the brain. That can improve tremors, stiffness and other Parkinson’s symptoms, but dopamine also plays a role in pleasure, motivation and reward. In some patients, the medication may produce strong urges that are difficult to resist.

The best-known examples are compulsive gambling, shopping, eating and sexual activity. Some people become preoccupied with hobbies or repeat the same activity for hours. Although these problems occur more often with dopamine agonists such as ropinirole and pramipexole, current prescribing information for carbidopa-levodopa products also warns about intense urges and compulsive behavior.

And then there is crossdressing.

A medical journal even published a case report titled “Impulsive Cross-Dressing in a Man with Parkinson’s Disease Treated with Ropinirole.” The man developed a frequent compulsion to crossdress while taking that dopamine agonist. That does not establish “intensive crossdressing” as a standard side effect of carbidopa-levodopa, but it demonstrates that medication-related compulsive behavior can sometimes take a very personal and unexpected form.

Before anybody diagnoses every enthusiastic femulator with a dopamine surplus, an important distinction must be made: crossdressing is not, by itself, an impulse control disorder. Enjoying women’s clothing, dressing frequently or wanting to go out en femme does not make the activity pathological.

It becomes a possible medical concern when the urge is new or suddenly much stronger, feels impossible to control, consumes excessive time or money, causes distress, interferes with daily life or damages relationships. In that situation, the issue is not the clothing. The issue is the loss of control.

Since I was an enthusiastic crossdresser long before I swallowed my first carbidopa-levodopa tablet, I cannot blame the medication for putting me in a dress. At most, I might accuse it of encouraging me to look at one more dress online—or perhaps three!

Humor aside, anyone taking Parkinson’s medication should tell a neurologist about a new or sharply intensified compulsive behavior. Family members may notice the change before the person taking the medication does. The dosage or combination of medications may need adjustment, but Parkinson’s drugs should never be reduced or stopped without medical guidance.

Carbidopa-levodopa has helped calm my tremor and made everyday tasks easier. I have no intention of abandoning a medication that is helping me. I will simply pay attention to any changes in my behavior.

And if another new dress arrives at my door, I promise not to blame dopamine automatically.

Probably.

Sources: Parkinson’s Foundation: Impulse Control and Parkinson’s UK: Impulse Control Behaviours

Wearing Boston Proper

Rachel, another lovely Femulate reader

The New Unisex

For years, the fashion industry has used the word “unisex” to describe clothing that both women and men can wear. In practice, that has usually meant clothing borrowed from the men’s department: T-shirts, jeans, sweatshirts, sneakers and shapeless jackets offered in neutral colors.

Women were welcome to dress like men, but men were not expected to return the compliment.

That may be about to change.

In the near future, “unisex” fashion may no longer mean women wearing traditionally masculine clothing. It may mean both sexes wearing what we now consider women’s clothing.

The change will probably begin quietly. A few adventurous young men will wear blouses with their trousers. Male celebrities will appear at premieres in skirts, hosiery and heeled boots. Designers will send male models down the runway wearing dresses that are not presented as jokes, costumes or political statements. Eventually, department stores will stop labeling every garment strictly “Men” or “Women.”

Instead, clothing will be arranged by style, size and occasion.

Need something for the office? The businesswear department will offer trouser suits, skirt suits, sheath dresses, blouses and heels to everybody. Shopping for a wedding? The formalwear department will have gowns, cocktail dresses and elegant separates in sizes and proportions designed for a wide variety of bodies.

A husband and wife might visit a boutique together and browse the same racks. She may select a pantsuit while he chooses a wrap dress. They might share opinions, compare shoes and argue over who saw a particular blouse first.

Young people will likely lead the way. They already shop with fewer rules than previous generations did. To them, a skirt may simply be another clothing choice rather than a declaration about the person wearing it. Once enough young men begin wearing feminine fashions openly, manufacturers will notice an enormous untapped market.

Money has a way of making yesterday’s forbidden fashion become tomorrow’s must-have look.

Designers will begin adjusting traditional womenswear to accommodate male bodies—not by making it masculine, but by improving the fit. Dresses will have broader shoulders, longer sleeves and different waist proportions. Shoes will be available in larger sizes. Hosiery will be made for longer legs. Bras, shapewear and lingerie will be redesigned for customers who were not born with typically female figures.

The goal will not be to disguise the wearer’s sex. A man in a dress will not necessarily be trying to pass as a woman, although some certainly may. He may simply believe that a dress is attractive, comfortable and appropriate for the occasion.

Of course, many men will go further.

Once the dress becomes acceptable, the accessories will follow. A dress looks better with the right shoes. The shoes may call for hosiery. The neckline may look unfinished without a necklace. A handbag is more practical than overstuffed pockets. Makeup can brighten the face, earrings add sparkle and a flattering hairstyle completes the presentation.

Before long, a man who once insisted that he was “only wearing a skirt” may find himself checking his lipstick before leaving the house.

Workplaces will change, too. The old male uniform of dark suit, white shirt and tie will seem increasingly dull beside the variety available to women. Men will discover pencil skirts, colorful blouses, coordinated jewelry and the pleasure of owning more than two acceptable styles of business shoe.

Office dress codes will no longer specify separate clothing for men and women. They will simply require professional attire. A skirt suit will be professional regardless of whether the employee wearing it is named Susan or Steven.

Special occasions may accelerate the trend. Weddings, parties and formal dinners give people permission to dress more imaginatively. A man might first wear a gown as a member of a wedding party, then discover that he enjoys the elegance and attention. After that, wearing a dress to another social event will not seem nearly so daring.

There will still be resistance. Some people will complain that men no longer look like men. Others will predict the collapse of civilization, as people have done whenever hemlines rose, women wore trousers or men grew their hair long.

Civilization will survive.

Eventually, seeing men in dresses will become as unremarkable as seeing women in jeans. Children growing up in that world may be puzzled when they learn that clothing was once divided by sex. They will wonder why half the population was discouraged from wearing most of the colors, fabrics and styles in the store.

Crossdressers may have mixed feelings about this new freedom. On one hand, leaving the house in a skirt and heels will be easier than ever. On the other, something once daring and special will have become ordinary.

But perhaps that is the best possible outcome.

We will still be able to dress beautifully, experiment with our appearance and enjoy expressing our feminine side. We simply will not need an excuse.

When the fashion industry finally embraces truly unisex clothing, it will not eliminate menswear or force everyone into a dress. It will do something much simpler: give everyone access to the entire wardrobe.

And when that day arrives, “unisex” will finally mean what it should have meant all along.

Wearing Miraclesuit

Esme Percy femulating in the 1930 Hitchcock film Murder!

Blogging About Crossdressing

When I began blogging about crossdressing, I did not know where it would lead. I only knew that I had something to say.

For many years, crossdressing was something I did privately. Like many crossdressers, I spent too much time wondering what would happen if someone discovered my secret. Eventually, I ventured out of the closet and discovered that most of my fears were unwarranted. The civilian population was far more accepting or perhaps far less interested than I had imagined.

That discovery became the inspiration for Femulate. If I could leave the closet and experience the world as a woman, perhaps other crossdressers could do it, too.

Blogging about crossdressing is different from blogging about gardening, stamp collecting or ham radio. Crossdressing is personal. Every post reveals something about the person writing it, even when the post is supposedly about someone else.

When I write about a shopping trip, a compliment or an awkward encounter, I am not merely reporting what happened. I am also revealing my hopes, fears, successes and mistakes. Sometimes that degree of honesty is uncomfortable, but it is also what makes a blog worth reading.

Readers can usually tell when a writer is being genuine. They recognize their own experiences in the story. They may never have worn four-inch heels to the supermarket, but they understand the excitement and nervousness of stepping through the door en femme for the first time.

Over the years, I have written about clothing, makeup, passing, shopping, restrooms, marriage, work, Halloween and countless other subjects related to crossdressing. Occasionally, I wonder whether there is anything left to say.

Then an old memory comes to mind. A reader asks a question. Something unexpected happens during an outing. Or I reconsider an opinion I expressed years ago. Crossdressing may remain the subject, but our understanding of it changes as we gain experience and grow older.

The most rewarding part of blogging is hearing from readers who say that something I wrote helped them. Some finally admitted to themselves that they were crossdressers. Some told their spouses. Others bought their first complete outfit or took their first steps into the civilian world.

Those messages remind me that blogging is not simply an exercise in self-expression. Words can give someone encouragement at exactly the moment it is needed.

That also means a crossdressing blogger has a responsibility. My experience is not everyone’s experience. What worked for me may not work for another person. Family situations differ, communities differ and personal safety must always be considered. I can describe the road I traveled, but each reader must decide whether that road is suitable for her.

Blogging also has its less pleasant moments. Some people criticize without understanding. Others want every crossdresser to use the same label, follow the same rules or share the same goals. But crossdressers are as varied as any other group of people. Some dress privately, some go out occasionally and some live much of their lives as women. There is room for all of us.

For me, the heart of Femulate has always been encouragement. I want crossdressers to know that presenting as a woman does not have to be treated as something shameful, scandalous or sensational. It can simply be an enjoyable and fulfilling part of life.

I also try not to take it all too seriously. Crossdressing provides plenty of opportunities for humor. False eyelashes refuse to cooperate. A high heel finds the only crack in the sidewalk. A carefully coordinated outfit encounters a sudden downpour. If we cannot laugh at ourselves occasionally, we are missing part of the fun.

After all these years, I continue blogging because there are still stories to tell and people who need to hear them. Somewhere, a crossdresser is sitting in front of a computer, wondering whether she will ever have the courage to leave the closet.

Perhaps she will read about one of my adventures and think, “If Stana could do it, maybe I can do it, too.”

That is reason enough to keep writing.

Wearing Boston Proper

Drew Carey femulating on a Halloween episode of The Drew Carey Show.