Transvestites and Fashion
By Petal Jeffrey
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In the second half of the fifties, teenage girls had skirts offering the best of both worlds - decorous or outrageous by turns. This (as we used to say in the pictures) is were we came in. With a rock 'n' roll skirt, a girl's knickers were well under wraps until she spins on the dance floor. If freedom is choice, this was surely a liberating fashion.
The 'jive', the fifties knicker-flashing dance, was not new. It had been very popular in the war years, when it was known as the jitterbug. After the sedate dancing of the early fifties, reclaiming this wilder dance must have come as a liberation - it is especially fun for the girl. More transvestites should try it, but remember that it's wasted on too tight a skirt.
It is right that we transvestites should have fun with our clothes, it's a small enough compensation for the trouble and heartache which transvestism causes all too many of us. Growing up as a trannie, trying to hold down a transvestite marriage, these are not easy. In my experience, employers are less than delighted when one turns up to work with traces of make-up. This is true even when everyone knows what we are - they don't like to be visibly reminded.
Among the transvestites I know, there is a very high rate of broken marriages - including mine. Admittedly, I'm more likely to meet transvestites who are no longer married than those who are... there can be no doubt that it's easier to go out clubbing if there's no wife about :)
Two come to mind as having had marriages that have survived, at least as far as the world in general is concerned. In both cases, Mrs Tranni stumbled on clothes carelessly left about. One is now forbidden to dress and is only seen on rare occasions when wifey is away. In the other case, the marriage is so nearly dead that the wife doesn't care, as long as the neighbours don't find out.
While, to be fair, a lot of people seem more sympathetic than one might expect, the degree of hostility transvestites can arous is frightening. I've had my head bashed against a wall and then been kicked as I lay unconscious. It was a dreadful thing to do simply because those responsible didn't like the way I was dressed. Worse, perhaps, I strongly suspect the attack to have been premeditated. It can be a bad idea to allow unsympathetic people to predict where and when one is likely to be seen in a skirt.
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