It was only a few years ago, even after I became a regular Kandi’s Land contributor, that I’d read accounts of others’ trips into the outside world, doing the things that any woman would do seemingly without a care in the world. Even as I took my own tentative steps and started to realise that the rest of humanity had far more pressing issues on their mind than to ponder whether my chromosomes matched my presentation, I still had a feeling that I was skirting (pun very much intended) around the edge of the world of women and would never have the guts to do even one tenth of the things that others were doing. I felt envy and a tinge of sadness that I’d never be in that position myself. It wasn’t just that despite the effort I put into my feminine presentation, what lies beneath is obvious. A bigger factor was that I just never felt that I would have the guts to walk amongst crowds of shoppers, let alone interact with people, in my feminine persona. And as for picking clothing off the rails and marching into the changing rooms as if I had every right to be there – forget it! But finally things started going in the right direction and the fears that I once had which kept me in the closet were replaced by a burning desire to be out and be seen.
As I’ve said here before, I’m not one for bucket lists or doing things just to prove my female credentials. But as I’ve become more confident in my feminine persona, I have experienced increasing desires to do things that women do. Nothing fancy, just mundane things like browsing in womenswear shops & departments, calling into a café for a cup of tea and a pastry, even queuing up in a bank to pay in funds to our business account. One thing I had never done, though, was to try on clothes and thoughts of doing so started to enter my mind several times a day. And on a day when, unexpectedly, the house was empty and the coast clear, I decided to bring that dream to reality.
As with my last outing, I drove to a large out of town shopping complex, about 30 miles from where I live. For me, it’s ideal – plenty of parking, under cover and ‘flagship’ chain stores with wide ranges to browse. And I’d no sooner got out of the car when it became obvious that I was going to have a good day. A young woman walking towards me looked my way and we exchanged smiles. A fleeting moment and no words were exchanged but all I needed to once again remind me that acceptance is there for the taking.
As it was nearing lunchtime when I arrived, my first stop was at Caffè Nero for a cup of tea and a mince pie (it was early December and everywhere was gearing up for Christmas) where, as usual, I was treated to service with a smile. And a trip to Boots the Chemist yielded a similar reaction from the assistant I asked for help in finding cotton wool pads and who seemingly delighted in walking with me to show me exactly where they were. With the essentials sorted out, it was then time to concentrate on the main purpose of my visit, finding outfits to try on.
As I visited various shops in the mall, the desire to find an outfit to try on was building. To help me focus, I decided to look for an outfit suitable for a Christmas party, something that should have been straightforward in early December but which proved a lot more challenging than I thought. Plenty of dresses whose hemline left little to the imagination and whose neckline required rather more authentic boobage than a couple of rice filled stocking feet inside a pocket bra are able to provide. And the frustration mounted, not because I couldn’t find what I was looking for but because the whole aim of the outing was in jeopardy.
One advantage of shopping malls is that they have plenty of places to sit down and with walking around in heels starting to take its toll, they were a godsend. I sat down at one end of a long bench with a woman of a similar age to me sitting at the other end. I’d inadvertently left my phone in the car and, without a watch, had no idea what time it was. There was a time when I’d have been terrified to open my mouth but, without thinking, just asked her if she could tell me what time it was and, with a smile, she was happy to oblige. Just more evidence of how normal all of this is becoming for me.
There wasn’t much time to rest, though, as I still had the main objective of my outing to fulfil. Having more or less exhausted the other options, I entered the ‘darling’ of the older woman – Marks and Spencer – and was drawn to a faux fur jacket. I’ve always liked the look of fur but have never approved of natural fur so this was ideal and then set about finding a suitable dress to go with it. Finally, I found a black midi dress with lace trim so took one along with the jacket to the changing rooms. The assistant asked how many garments I had, I told her and she told me to go to any cubicle.
I got changed then left the cubicle to see the effect in the large mirror. A woman with a pushchair/ stroller was standing between me and the mirror, glanced my way then quickly apologised and moved. It was a perfectly normal reaction and interaction but I couldn’t help wondering what her reaction would have been had she looked at me a little more closely.
As for the outfit, for the imaginary Christmas party, it would have been an absolute winner without a doubt. The lace trim and mid-calf hemline gave the dress an air of sophistication and the fur jacket would have been perfect for arrival on a cold winter’s night. If the party had been for real, would I have bought it? Possibly not immediately as I still wanted to see what else was on offer but it was certainly a contender so I returned the items to the rails and continued my search.
Earlier in the day, I’d looked in another shop, River Island, and saw what I thought was a nice long dress. However, on closer inspection, it turned out to be a jumpsuit so I’d quickly moved on. After the success in M&S, I decided to return, if only to see how I looked in an outfit that I’d never previously considered. I picked up a black jumpsuit plus a red one from an adjacent rail and once again decided to pair them with a cream faux fur jacket. Having passed the sales assistant on duty at the changing rooms without incident, I found a cubicle and tried the black jumpsuit first.
One word can sum up how I felt when I emerged to look at the outfit in the large mirror outside the cubicles – WOW! In my imaginary scenario, it would have been a good job that I put the M&S outfit back on the rails because the jumpsuit and fur combination was absolutely perfect. It was one of those outfits that would not have felt out of place if other guests had not made an effort but, equally, would have fitted in perfectly if everyone else had been dressed to the nines. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ‘right’ or even, dare I say, ‘sexy’ as I looked at myself in the mirror.
I’d had high hopes for the red jumpsuit. I used to have a lovely red bodycon dress and I’d always felt good wearing it. Black has become a bit of a cliché so I was interested to see how the red jumpsuit stacked up. Unfortunately, it was a real let down – the black one exuded sophistication, the red one looked like a fancy dress costume for a 70s themed party. Even the fur jacket failed to redeem it and it was interesting to see the contrast between two nearly identical garments where the only difference was the colour.
I changed back into my own clothes and left the cubicle. As I passed the sales assistant, she asked how everything was. Time for a chat, I decided. I told her that the jumpsuit was absolutely gorgeous and then went on to say that I’d been looking for a dress for a Christmas party but after trying on the jumpsuit, I was torn between the two. She laughed and said that it looked like I’d made life a lot more difficult for myself before adding that she thought the fur would really suit me. She wasn’t wrong!
And after that high, there was just time for another cup of tea at the Caffè Nero to reflect on the day before setting off for home.
Once again, this outing proved to me that the only barriers to living this side of myself are those I put in place myself. Acceptance is there for the taking and I never cease to be touched by the way that others treat me; it may sound cynical to wonder whether I receive extra special treatment because it’s obvious what I am but to me that’s a real positive, something akin to being told that I’m worthy of being welcomed into the sisterhood.
As you’ll probably have inferred from the title of this post, there’s going to be a part 2 where I look at the whole issue of trying on clothes from a different perspective so stay tuned.
