I’m a canvas of flesh and bone. On occasion, I like to paint my face and dress my body with fine fabrics. Of course, men have done this for millennia across many lands. The difference is that sometimes men decide to use paints and fabrics society has deemed appropriate for the female gender. I’m one of those men.
In the early days, I dressed stupidly. My makeup was messy and I would wear stuff that was inappropriate for my age, obviously reflecting elements of sexual fetish. I would typically dress piecemeal, an incomplete attempt at a feminine ideal. Sometimes, and it is only apparent on reflection, my outfits were horrid Frankensteinian mixes of articles and accoutrements. During this time, the dream was to dress “full up,” to go full monte. In 2006, that dream came true when I dressed entirely and completely like a woman. This, of course, was followed by venturing into the wild fully dressed, from car trips to conferences to clothing stores.
Since those formative days, my crossdressing has evolved into artistic expression at the expense of sexual expression. I feel this evolution followed an abbreviated form of maturation for Alexandra – birth, infancy, adolescence, and finally adulthood. Now, my objective is to reflect a personal ideal, my archetype of the woman I find attractive, alluring, interesting, even unattainable.
Of course, my face and body have limitations when it comes to expressing this ideal to my satisfaction. But, that’s ok. I don’t actually want to be a woman, after all. Now, the objective is to physically portray a woman of a certain age, one who is confident but sometimes vulnerable, chic but sometimes playful, coy but sometimes aloof.
Coming full circle, it is fun to dress in a manner that is respectful, interesting, and attractive while also suggesting a provocative aspect. Though attracting a man’s attention is the furthest from my desires, it is nevertheless affirming when a heterosexual man finds my Alexandra persona attractive. It is perhaps the highest of compliments, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty about this. I don’t mean to mislead or otherwise play games with people.
It’s all very Freudian. But it is also very Rembrandtian.
Shoes: Katy Perry
Hosiery: Cecilia de Rafael
Bonus Post: Crumbs
Well, like that sad moment when emptying a box of your favorite cereal, we have come to the crumbs. I prefer this metaphor than the one I had considered, which was “scraping the bottom of the barrel,” which conjures something quite different and negative.
In this case, this is the last photo in the Keystone 2023 archive. Those that remain are repetitive or otherwise not interesting, with a smattering of horrific.
I’m not sure when I will get gussied up again. I suspect it will be in November or so, when I take a day off and head to a hotel overnight, hopefully to meet with a friend for lunch or coffee. That sort of thing will be my M.O. from now on: short, infrequent jaunts into the wild to meet a friend or friends for good conversation.
So, until then, which seems an eternity away, I will lurk about and enjoy photos and commentary posted by others. I have a lot of catching up to do in terms of leaving much deserved accolades with friends and those I admire from afar!
Thank you all for your kind words and encouragement. I wish you the very best 🙂
Cardigan: Calvin Klein
Boots: Charter Club
Hosiery: Tiffany Quinn