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A Bra in Your Future, Part 2

Once bras stopped feeling foreign, something predictable happened: men began to notice the results.

Support changed posture. Lift altered outline. Fabric trained the eye. What had begun as comfort quietly became contour—and contour, once noticed, invited preference. Men who had worn bras long enough to forget them started seeing their chests not as problems to minimize but as features to manage, refine, and, eventually, enhance.

At first the changes were subtle. A lightly padded cup here. A firmer band there. Men told themselves it was about balance—about how a jacket hung, how a blouse draped, how a knit top stopped collapsing inward. But mirrors are persuasive. So are compliments. And soon the question was no longer why wear a bra? but why not look better in one?

Just as women once did, men learned that size could be curated.

Push-up bras appeared in men’s departments, marketed in sober language: “definition,” “presence,” “upper-body harmony.” Inserts followed—foam, silicone, gel—sold as modular tools rather than indulgences. A man could choose how much projection he wanted that day, the way he chose shoes or a watch. The chest became adjustable, expressive, intentional.

And then came surgery—not as a shock, but as an escalation.

Breast augmentation for men entered the conversation through familiar channels: confidence, proportion, self-actualization. Surgeons spoke clinically about balance between shoulders, waist, and hips. Men spoke privately about finally liking what they saw from the side. As with women before them, what began with a few pioneers quickly normalized. Once results were visible in offices, on screens, at social events, the taboo collapsed. Bigger was not compulsory—but it was available. And availability reshapes desire.

Clothing had no choice but to follow.

Men’s tops were refashioned with deeper darts, more forgiving stretch, and engineered support zones. Button-downs were redesigned to curve outward instead of pulling flat. Knitwear celebrated volume instead of hiding it. Necklines shifted—first modestly, then deliberately. A scoop here. A softened V there. Cleavage, once unthinkable on male bodies, became optional display: tasteful for some, proud for others, provocative for those who enjoyed the attention.

Importantly, nothing was mandatory. That was the trick. Choice made everything acceptable.

With breasts accepted, the fashion industry looked downward.

If the chest could be shaped, why not the waist? Girdles reappeared in men’s cuts, rebranded as “core tailoring.” Waist cinchers promised posture and polish. Corsets—never called corsets at first—offered long lines, smooth transitions, and a return to the hourglass logic fashion has always loved. Men learned the pleasure of being held, guided, narrowed, lifted. Silhouettes softened, then curved.

The male body, once defined by straight lines and denial, became sculptural.

None of this was framed as loss. That narrative didn’t sell. Instead, it was framed as completion. Men weren’t abandoning masculinity; they were refining their presentation in a world that rewarded elegance, adaptability, and visual fluency. Feminization wasn’t announced—it was styled.

And perhaps the most telling change was this: men stopped hiding.

They adjusted straps openly. They discussed cup shapes. They compared results. What had once been secret became social. Pride replaced apology. Like women in the past, men learned that visibility created norms, and norms created freedom.

In the end, the transformation wasn’t about bras, breasts, or curves at all.

It was about permission—permission to take up space differently, to be shaped rather than squared off, to be admired not despite softness but because of it. Once that permission was granted, fashion did what it always does when given a new body to work with.

It celebrated it.

Wearing JustFab

John Ritter femulating on television”s Hooperman (1988).

(A Mad magazine funny modified extensively for femulate.org)

A Bra in Your Future

Men wearing bras in the near future isn’t a gimmick. It’s the logical outcome of several converging trends. If you strip away the knee-jerk cultural reactions, the reasons are practical, economic, aesthetic, and social.

Bodies Change, Garments Follow

Modern male bodies are not the bodies menswear was designed for a century ago. More men have softer chests, wider hips, and less rigid upper-body muscle definition due to lifestyle changes, hormones in food chains, aging populations, and medical realities (weight fluctuation, gynecomastia, post-surgery recovery).

Bras solve real problems: support, comfort, posture, temperature control, and skin protection. Clothing always adapts to bodies not the other way around.

Comfort Beats Symbolism

For decades, men tolerated discomfort because “support garments” were coded as feminine. That stigma is eroding fast. Compression shirts, shapewear, and athletic supports already do bra-adjacent work just under different names.

Once men realize a bra is simply a more efficient tool for chest management, the symbolic resistance collapses. Comfort wins every time.

The Workplace Is Feminizing Its Norms

As women continue to dominate professional and managerial roles, workplace aesthetics shift with them. Dress codes already emphasize polish, smooth silhouettes, and layered garments over bulk and stiffness.

In that environment, bras function as professional equipment not sexualized objects. Just as men adopted skincare, tailored fits, and grooming routines once associated with women, bras become part of “looking put together.”

Fashion Cycles Always Reclaim the Forbidden

Fashion thrives on inversion. What was once taboo becomes chic precisely because it was forbidden. Designers are already experimenting with visible lingerie elements on male bodies, not as parody, but as refinement.

Once high-status men wear bras openly (actors, executives, public figures), the item flips from “transgressive” to “aspirational” almost overnight.

The Redefinition of Masculinity

Masculinity is no longer defined by rejection of femininity. It’s defined by adaptability. Younger men are growing up without the reflexive fear of “looking like a woman.” They see femininity as a resource, not a threat.

In that context, a bra isn’t emasculating. It’s neutral. Sometimes even empowering—because it signals confidence and self-possession.

Economic Inevitability

The apparel industry follows money. Women’s lingerie is one of the most sophisticated, profitable segments in fashion. Extending bras to men, properly designed, sized, and marketed, is inevitable.

Once major brands normalize men’s bras as everyday undergarments (not novelty items), adoption accelerates rapidly.

The Bottom Line

Men will wear bras for the same reason women once started wearing trousers:

They work

They’re comfortable

They fit the lives people actually live

History shows that when social roles change, clothing follows. The near future isn’t about men “borrowing” women’s garments. It’s about the quiet disappearance of the line that said support, structure, and softness belonged to only one sex.

Wearing Ann Taylor

Rob Schneider femulating in television’s Men Behaving Badly.

What’s Old is New Again

I’ve received many kind words about the photos I’ve posted here recently and I’m grateful for the compliments.

Those photos are from a boatload of old en femme photos I have that are in fair-to-poor condition–especially the Polaroids. For years, I hesitated scanning and sharing them on the blog because they carried the scars of time: faded colors, soft focus and all the limitations of the cameras and film we had back then. I made a few attempts to rescue them in Photoshop, but the results never quite brought those moments back to life.

Then I had the idea to let AI try its hand at restoration. With a simple prompt like “clean up and improve the quality of this image,” something unexpected happened. Polaroids began to resemble modern digital photos and old Kodachromes regained the contrast and color I remembered when I first held them in my hands.

Not every restoration worked. I’d guess about half succeed, but when one does, it feels like opening a forgotten drawer and finding a memory you thought was gone for good.

The image accompanying this post is one I restored last week. It was taken at a Halloween party in 1976, when I was 25 years old. I had long assumed the original was beyond saving, so seeing it renewed came as a genuine shock.

Youth really is wasted on the young. I’m wearing very little makeup in that photo—just lipstick and mascara—and yet, looking at that image now, I can’t help but think: I looked amazing!

Wearing Stylewe

Ștefan Bănică femulating Kate Hudson on Romanian television’s Your Face Sound Familiar.

Stuff 110: Dreaming?

By J.J. Atwell

Do you dream about being out in girl mode?

We all dream, right? That’s what the experts say. Sometimes we remember our dreams and other times we don’t. Even when we do remember, it seems like the memory fades quickly. 

I rarely remember my dreams. I can’t say I recall anywhere I’ve been in girl mode. I’m not sure what that means about me, but it does make me wonder how many of you, dear readers, have such dreams. 

Dream Outings

Now that we’ve shifted from our sleep dreams, let’s imagine what we’d love to do while dressed up—those dream outings! Whether we actually go out dressed or not, I bet we’ve all thought about places we’d like to visit in a dress.

I’ve been lucky enough to go out to eat with my local group many times over the past four years. They often have GNOs at different restaurants. Some are very casual and my outfit reflects that. Others are a bit fancier like our annual holiday dinner, which calls for a more dressy outfit. I spend more time daydreaming about those fancy restaurant outings.

I’ve also had the pleasure of seeing a couple of stage shows while dressed. One was at a small playhouse to see Tootsie (a musical) with about a dozen CDs and SO/friends. We weren’t particularly dressy that night as the venue was more casual. I didn’t notice anybody paying particular attention to our group, which was very affirming. 

The second show was at a major theater to see the musical version of Some Like it Hot with two other CDs and their SOs. We were better dressed for that occasion, but were not as over-the-top as many other patrons. This place was very much a “see and be seen” venue with a huge lobby area where people mingled before the show and during intermission. I didn’t notice any odd looks during that outing either. You can find my telling of that outing in Stuff 60, which Stana published on February 24, 2025.

I’ve managed to accomplish some of my dream outings, but I dream of more. For example, in guy mode I go out dining with my SO regularly. We are recognized in several places we frequent. One in particular is a high-end steak house,and the GGs dining there usually make the effort to up their game. It is a dream for me to go there in a dress, but since we are known, I’m sure that no matter how good my presentation was that night, I’d be clocked. 

Dream Outfits

I recently received an email from one of my regular readers, Millie, about several things including her dream bras. Her email was actually in response to Stuff 107, but her comments seem to fit nicely into today’s musings. Let’s think of just where would you go on dream outings and what dream outfit you would wear. The outfit doesn’t necessarily have to fit with the outing. Let’s focus on the outfit itself even if it is out of place.

I suspect many of you will pick the classics like prom, wedding gown, French maid uniform, Hooter’s waitress, etc. I’d also love many of them, but being a fairly quiet, shy individual, it’s unlikely that I would actually do any of those. However, I have participated in a beauty pageant, which I wrote about in Stuff 86, 87 and 88, which allowed/required me to appear in beach attire and a very dressy outfit. 

I’d love to hear from you. What are your dream outfits? Do you have plans to wear them anytime soon? Are you going out while wearing that outfit?

I’ll Be Back

Today’s picture was created out of whole cloth, well 0s and 1s, by ChatGPT with the instruction to make an image of a CD dreaming about outfits. Until next time, I’ll be dreaming up more Stuff to write about. I welcome comments and suggestions here on Stana’s page or by email at Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com.

Wearing Boston Proper

Femulate reader Julie Shaw

This Space For Rent

Out of the Mouths of Babes

How do people who don’t know Stana react when they first hear your voice? In other words, how feminine do you think you sound to strangers?

I’m soft-spoken. I don’t have anything even remotely resembling a deep, booming, “command the room” kind of voice.

But pitch isn’t really the main event. The real giveaway is how I talk.

I use a feminine vocabulary and, more importantly, feminine phrasing. I tend to ask rather than announce. I hedge, soften, qualify, and generally make myself agreeable. This has been my natural speaking style for as long as I can remember.

Take the classic coffee order.

A man will usually say, “I want a large coffee with cream and sugar.”

A woman is more likely to say, “I would like a medium coffee with cream, no sugar,” or “May I please have a medium coffee with cream, no sugar?”

Same beverage. Very different energy.

“I want” sounds like a demand. “I would like” sounds like a polite suggestion that could, in theory, be withdrawn if it turns out to be inconvenient for everyone involved.

I have always spoken in the latter mode. Soft-spoken, deferential, and mildly apologetic for taking up space at all. The upside is that my voice often “passes” without any special effort on my part.

When I’m out, strangers almost always address me as a woman. I get “Ma’am” routinely, “Miss” now and then, and I can count the number of times I’ve heard “Sir” on two fingers—with one left over just in case.

To be fair, sometimes people are being polite. They may see a man, or someone they’re not quite sure how to categorize, and they decide to follow my lead. I’m presenting as a woman, so they roll with it.

But other times, I’m pretty sure my voice is doing real work. While it’s certainly riding along with the rest of my presentation, I’ve rarely had the experience of feeling like I was passing perfectly—right up until I opened my mouth.

I’m never satisfied and always think I can do better, so at one point I bought a female voice-training videotape.

I copied the audio from the videotape onto a cassette and took the course in my car during my half-hour commute to and from work—every day, for weeks.

(“Videotape.” “Cassette.” Wow. How old is this woman?)

Then, one day during the third week, everything clicked. A voice I had never heard before came out of my mouth.

Wow.

It was actually a little unsettling to hear that woman’s voice. Was that really me?

Of course, to keep a trained voice, you have to use it. And that’s where things fell apart. Since my naturally feminine voice already works most of the time, I’m strangely reluctant to practice the “improved” version.

So I’ve drifted back to square one—which, in this case, really isn’t a bad place to be.

And so it goes.

Wearing Paige

Paolo Ballesteros and Martin del Rosario femulating in the Filipino film Born Beautiful.
Click here to view a scene from the film on YouTube.

Heels in the Cereal Aisle

As a housewife, there are chores I enjoy, chores I’m indifferent to, and chores I genuinely dislike. At the very top of my dislike list is grocery shopping, mainly because it’s so time-consuming—it practically wipes out an entire morning.

The only times I haven’t minded grocery shopping were when I did it en femme. On those occasions, I was already out en femme for something else and simply made a quick side trip to the store.

For example, after attending a conference one day, I promised to pick up a few items on my way home.

During the fifteen minutes I spent going up and down the aisles at Stop & Shop, I noticed three or four men checking me out, but otherwise I attracted little attention until I queued up at the checkout. As I unloaded my cart onto the conveyor belt, the woman ahead of me glanced down at my shoes: a pair of nude pumps with four-inch heels. She looked back up at me and said, “You’re a brave woman to wear those heels grocery shopping!”

Moments like that put grocery shopping in an entirely new light. Perhaps I should always shop for groceries en femme.

Wearing Boston Proper

Barbara, circa 1961, colorized photo from Transvestia magazine