I was going to have to decide what my new dress would be like. I wanted frou-frou (whatever that might be). It sounded so definitely pleasurable.
When was the first time you wondered what it would be like?
When was the first time you tried on something from ‘The Swishy Side’.
When did you realize that brown and grey and drab and dreary was not what you wanted to be wearing? What interested you – and I don’t mean gave you a thrill.
When did you first try on panties, tights, skirt, dress, bra, high heels. Each of these was a step into the unknown – or perhaps I mean uncertain or not-thought-about.
I remember the first time I tried on panties – they were a bit big but the feel of them as they slid up my legs was so different from the boy things that I normally had to wear. The way they seemed to cling gently to the skin, hold so nicely rather than merely as a covering between my body and trousers. Just so much nicer. They were soft and smooth and slinky. I could let my fingers touch them and my fingers would glide across the surface. So nice.
I remember the first time I tried on tights – and did I get it wrong that time. I rolled one leg up as far as it would go then had to stretch so far to reach the other toe that I could feel the material begin to tear. I stopped, rolled the first leg down a bit then to the second. Gradually I worked the strange feeling material up both legs towards the top. I looked to see how my feet and lower legs glistened as the sheer material flexed and stretched. So beautiful. Then as I stood and pulled the tights upwards, I could feel the whole of my leg enclosed and enveloped in the quite wonderful sensation.
Each piece of clothing tells its own story – offers its own special sensations. Sometimes wonderful, sometimes ‘not so good’.
The first skirt – well there’s two – the calf-length as it swirls around the calf and brushes now and then at the front, at the back at the sides. Each swish a delightful reminder.
Or the above-the-knee skirt, with the air eddying in ways that it never has before. Shorts may have let the air reach your legs, but never like it moves in and around a skirted thigh.
For me, there’s not a lot of sexual thrill about each of these – although it does happen at times. The pressure, the inner demand is ‘to wear the clothes’.
Judging ‘typical’ first-time behaviour or experiences is almost completely befogged and misled by anecdata - that anecdote which is treated as data.
Some stories are driven completely by the drive for sexual excitement; others involve stealth, secrecy and concealment either until discovery and catastrophe or else lifelong subterfuge. Far too few stories end well.
After the skirt, worn with the panties and tights which were no longer new to me – my next new experience was the blouse. This felt little different, softer, more colour options, prettier buttons BUT learning how to do those inside-out buttons was so very weird.
I didn’t really feel that I had experienced a ‘first blouse’ until I wore my first bra.
By this time, I had got comfortable with going into shops and buying pants, tights and quite a variety of clothes. I wasn’t yet willing or able or presentable as ambiguous or androgynous. I had grown my hair to my shoulders and it was much better looked after than the average male.
But, I had decided that this time was too important and too expensive to get wrong. What would be the point of a collection of badly fitting bras that I was too embarrassed to exchange back at the shop. On-line shopping didn’t suit my way of doing things either.
I knew that the task would go more easily if I was clear and confident. I did wait until the department was empty – no point in being brazen. “Excuse me, I’m looking to choose a bra.”
“Certainly sir. What size do you need?”
“Probably 42-C. maybe D”
“Have you been given an idea of what to get, or are you actually needing, er, more direct help.”
“Oh, that was carefully phrased. Yes, I’m looking for a bra for myself.”
“In that case, I can either discuss the sort of bra you might need – for a start, the underwire variety necessary for ladies with larger cup size is not really comfortable for the male shape. You won’t, or rather, I suspect you won’t be interested in the silliness of demi-cups or the concealment offered by sports-bras. You’ve already said that you’re looking for something like 42-C – which is at the less overt end of the scale. If you were aiming to be full-breasted and public – then you’d be getting different advice.”
“I’ll get a couple of bras I think will be suitable. I’ll also get some bra-extenders because the male chest is actually not the same shape as the female. Sometimes, a 42 with an extender is actually a better fit than going immediately to 44 – and so on. We’ve got time to get you something that fits well and makes you comfortable. After all, we tell every customer about the danger, inconvenience and extra effort required for a badly fitting bra. Why start badly. Mmmm.”
“You echo some thoughts I have had for a long time. Let’s try something on – I fancy satin and pink if you have it.”
“We get the fit right - then we look at choice. But I’ll look at the satin and pink section first,” and she giggled quietly.
It was a very pleasant half-hour. Cathie helped me try on half a dozen different bras. Eventually, I/ we chose three. All were 42-C but as suggested each had an extender and to my surprise, Cathie had suggested that I buy breast-enhancers. And I did find the effect was very satisfactory.
I was comfortable enough to wear the bra under my shirt and jacket so that I could walk around getting the feel of the bra doing its job of holding and supporting in a way that was new to me. It felt strange, but comforting too.
The ease with which I bought the bras encouraged me to look at many more clothes in the next few days. Sometimes I looked in the charity shops, as the prices are so remarkable and once in a while the right garment comes to hand. But, increasingly, I went into the shops selling the clothes I wanted to look at, the clothes I wanted to examine and feel and assess, the clothes I wanted to try on and buy.
I’m not a small girl – but I’m not in the Evans Outsize category either. My problem, as with most men wanting to wear pretty feminine clothes, my problem is I’m not really the right shape. I’m much more of a cylinder than I would like. But you really need to learn what your shape is – the younger you are, the more likely it is that there will be clothes suitable for you. I have solidified into middle-aged circumference aided by sloth and sundry lazinesses. I could lose weight – but it doesn’t seem to happen merely by feeble willpower – and I can’t get as involved on a day-to-day basis as many women manage. So, my shape is currently unfaltering.
Recently, I went into a gorgeous shop selling fabulous frocks – and said I wanted to try on a dress prior to deciding what to wear for a family event. Yes, I know, there was no chance of me buying at £300 for a dress – but it was a wonderful experience.
The ladies were helpful, gave good advice even though their stock was mainly one-off – and if you wanted the same dress in a different colour, that was invariably a ‘no’. But the deliciousness as the heavy, lined dress slid down my shoulders, my sides, my hips, my thighs to pool around my ankles – wow. That was a new first. And really special.
It’s difficult to improve on the advice from SoFeminine – Be Confident; Alterations make clothes fit better; What matters is that you feel gorgeous and happy. There is other advice but these are the key points for the crossdresser going out.
But every site is likely to offer support of some useful sort.
I have to say that the willingness of Cathie to treat me just as ‘a customer buying a bra’ was the biggest spur to my confidence. Since then my wardrobe has expanded considerably and the amount of ‘bought-it-but-no’ items has dropped significantly. I am more selective, I listen more and the assistants are very often completely reasonable about serving me. I won’t say that they’re always at ease about doing so – but they generally revert to ‘our job is to sell, so let’s sell’.
But my most recent purchase needed a little more deliberation and planning. I had been reading several stories where the gurl was enticed by frou-frou. And I wanted to know what that felt like, sounded like, how exciting or enticing was it?
I did look up the dictionary definition – I’m that sort of person – and the first definition was “Frilly; heavily ornamental; fancy; overly elaborate, particularly as regards clothing”; the second was ‘a rustling especially of a woman's skirts’. Clearly, this was what was described in my stories.
I sometimes get upset that so many stories involve situations or responses by other people which are different from mine. I don’t feel unusual but on the other hand …….. I spoke about this to a friend who has studied some psychology and he said ‘it’s known as the Specific –General distortion.;
He went on “It’s so very common. This is a thing, behaviour, attitude that I have experienced therefore this is what happens to people in general. Therefore I should expect people in general to react as I have done’. The other aspect is to believe from whatever data that people in general behave in such and such a manner therefore as an individual this is the correct and expected behaviour for me’. The specific defines the general and the general determines the specific. It’s not so unexpected – of course people are going to believe that they are reasonable and typical. Unless they believe they are unusual and different – they’re going to think they and their behaviour is ordinary.”
He went one, “Now, you and your ilk, you know that you’re unusual in that you like breaking some of the rules by dressing in women’s clothes – but a great deal of the time, you will be firmly convinced that you are ‘middle of the road’ and typical. Sorry, but you’re going to have to fight harder, be more different if you’re going to get to the edge of social respectability.”
“Oh bother.” Was my graceful response. “And I thought I tried so hard to be unlike the herd.”
“It’s tricky. To be one of the people who make change happen you have either to fight everything or you have to find a particular facet and fight that very hard. Look at the LGB brigade – as a percentage they are not particularly large, but their ability to make change within the whole society, to make the silent majority acquiesce even if not enjoy the changes they demand – that has required enormous pressure at well-selected weak points.”
“Yes, they saw that the leadership claimed to be massively tolerant and so they pushed at that very specific point – and they found that they could push and push and push until the tolerance that the leadership originally planned had been extended far beyond what was expected. And it goes on.”
“I suppose I have to expect that there has been some increase in willingness to accept T as well as LG &B.”
“True – but I think there’s a real difference for the T group. First of all, there’s the rather obvious difference that for the LGB it is all about, or mostly about, the sex and what they do with their genitals. That’s not the case for the T. I’d prefer not to use the label ‘sexual’ but the rest of the world see the behaviour of the T as sexual, so I have to abide with that. Theirs is the only sexual fetish or sexual behaviour which occurs at least as much outside the confines of the bedroom as inside. And this confuses the well-bred ladies and gentlemen who do not wish to concede that anything outside their expectations can be done in public. Like that Victorian court case ‘you can do anything you wish as long as it doesn’t frighten the ladies or the horses.”
But, this is the story of my search for the frou-frou. It wasn’t as strong as an urge or fetish or desire even – but a distinct interest and intent. It was while looking at the internet, that I noticed party frocks and indian dresses – both of which seemed to demonstrate the petticoat format that seemed necessary. I went hunting.
To my surprise, it was at Evans that I found the prom frock with ths stiff multi-layer petticoat - - wow – the noise it made as I walked around. But it wasn’t quite right. Somehow, what I was looking for was the floor-length dress with the same effect. Perhaps some of the swoosh as the tail dragged the carpet. Perhaps – I felt confident that when I found the right thing, the right dress, then I would be certain.
I loved the look of the Indian dresses but, somewhat sadly, decided that they really needed more panache, style and actually shape than I could manage. By hindsight that was a wrong choice because since then I have gone significantly into Indian and African dresses. The bright colours and bold patterns conceals a myriad of shapelessness. It's a sort of female version of army camouflage - so extraordinary that you fail to see the body underneath.
But this first effort to find frou-frou didn’t go easily. The prom-dress just wasn’t me. So I looked for dresses which would be suitable for a petticoat or maybe just more than one liner or slip. One of my ladies who did alterations made that suggestion. She said to buy two or three slips and she would stitch them together so they would go under whichever dress I wanted. This seemed to make lot of sense and gave me a lot more flexibility in what I could look for.
I soon found a dress I thought would suit – long, flowing, dark red in a sort of crushed velvet with a even darker trim. I tried it and enjoyed the sweep and flow very much – but then I added what I called my slip-stack – and it was even better. There was a much heavier feel to the dress, and there was an interesting delay as I swept from side to side. It felt great – and there was a rustle and whisper as the layers touched and fell apart. But not quite a frou-frou as I had expected.
A few days later, talking with another of my alteration ladies, she told me to go and talk to a bridal shop as they would be much more likely to know what materials caused the best frou-frou. She giggled, which seemed unusual in a lady of nearly 60, and said she’d be really interested in how they dealt with my request.
But that’s what I did.
[appalling interruption at this point **** my wife read this and was very unaccepting that I was writing stories. Bad enough to want to wear skirts, panties, bras. Worse to actually buy them AND wear them. Bad worse to apparently ‘want to be a woman’ and by implication to deny her woman-ness. Worse still to expose what is in my mind and what must be my desire by writing about it. How could she be married to ‘someone who wanted to be a woman. I’m not a lesbian’ Rather a long way past ‘ooops’. Ghastly.
And I have to be fair, not nice for my wife as she previously expressed massive disapproval of my behaviour-fetish-perversion-vileness-etc and I have therefore tried to cool my interest and activity. I can’t manage to stop every aspect of this part of me – so I have lied about trying to do so. That’s my problem not hers. But I should have managed a more complete removal of my computer activity. I’m not going down the complicated aspect of ‘wanting to be caught’. No.
But I should manage a better balance between caring for Alys and caring for my wife and others. I have no idea what sort of comments I will get for saying this. ]
In the bridal boutique, I got a thorough lesson in materials and their weight, strength, purpose and flexibility. Words such as brocade, lace, satin, silk, chiffon, crepe, voile, net, taffeta, tulle, velvet were mentioned and I didn’t have a clue about quite a few of them. I knew satin, silk, cotton and polyester and jersey and lots of others and I had heard of some of these but I didn’t know what was what. It was fascinating and Robyn was very helpful in my quest to understand the importance of sound and feel to a garment.
But I’m closing in now on my own rustling, fruffling, swishing, swooshing, frou-frou dress – and I hope it will be all I’m looking for.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.