The Princess and the Shopper, or How to Get Noticed

It’s been a very busy month indeed and I’ve been working flat out, as well as dealing with roofers, dentists and other people with noisy equipment. But there came a point where I decided I’d had enough and needed a break. Fortunately, my friend Pippa was in town and wanted to brave public transport for the first time and going shopping. It’s almost exactly three years since I first left my own front door dressed as a woman and I know how nerve-wracking and difficult it is to build up confidence to present to the world as you feel is right for you. Many girls such as Andrea Huntingdon and Emma Walkey helped me in my early days and it’s now my pleasure to accompany girls on their first attempts at new feats.

So I went over to Pippa’s hotel in Paddington. “Dress down,” I said, “we’re only going shopping not partying.” I had on almost exactly the outfit you see in my wallpaper image on this blog, that summer skirt and white T-shirt. Pippa, dressed in a beautiful soft coral dress, five inch nude heels, long blonde wig with a flower and lots of sparkles and perfume sprayed all over, obediently eschewed her favourite spotty stockings for delicate lacy tights and wore less sparkly eye makeup than usual. Let’s face it, Pippa is never going to be Dowdy Shopper Woman but will always be a princess. Thus qualified for public duty, we headed to Paddington tube station for Pippa’s first ride on the Underground. It was mid-afternoon and quite quiet so the journey to Leicester Square was uneventful and not too hot for a June day below ground. I did warn her of the wind up the tunnels that has a habit of blowing your skirt up if you’re not careful but we had no mishaps, apart from the bloke trying hard to pretend he wasn’t eyeing Pippa’s legs on the Piccadilly Line.

We strolled through Chinatown a bit and a nice family of tourists took this snap of us. 

By this time we were starving, not helped by all the cooking smells in the area, so we had a very late lunch at Melanie’s which was pleasant as ever, especially at a table by the open window. It was slightly spoilt by two silly men at another table shouting “bye, gents” as we left. I guess it helps to show my companion that it’s pretty much the worst sort of abuse one can occasionally get in these parts and generally people are polite and friendly. We popped into the Cambridge round the corner to say hi to Joanne behind the bar and then went shopping in earnest.

It's just water, honest

I thought Pippa would like to see the Kurt Geiger shoe store in Covent Garden, always a hit with TGirls and, well, anyone who likes shoes, which is at least half the population. I was instantly attracted to a pair of kitten heels in candy pink and I just had to wear them for the rest of the day.

We went hunting for coffee. Belushi’s is supposed to be a café bar, but we found that their coffee machine was bust so, tragically, we just had to settle for a jug of cocktail instead! They had a live blues singer but he was actually a bit distracting so we took a turn round Covent Garden market, blaming the cobbles for our being a bit wobbly, and had our coffee at Pain Quotidien in the square. Pippa was full of confidence by now and we happily made friends with a policewoman and her horse ...

... and generally found other ways to get noticed, like going up and down the tube just for kicks, you might say.

Hey, enough of this drivel, you just want pics. The words are just to show how you may pass as you please in this world if you really want to.

Thanks to Pippa for being such a fabulously bubbly companion. No thanks for making me look like a frump! And for honouring me with being her mentor on the tube and the mean streets. Honey, you graduated with honours. You don’t need my help any more because you’ve seen for yourself how straightforward it is. And you went and did it all again on your own the next day!

Ladies, please curtsey to Princess Pippa.

Sue x

Interlude

It's a tricky time at the moment and I'm unlikely to be able to go out to play at all this month because a lot of things need sorting. I want my girlfriends to know how much I appreciate all their invitations but I'm having to deal with other stuff right now, but I love them all very much. Our night out in London in the previous post was arranged months ago and, although I had a lot else on my mind, it did me good to go out.

So it may be a bit before more fun stuff and pictures appear here. In the meantime, enjoy the various amusing and fun items that have happened over the last few months.

I will try to get a girly Sunday lunch booked perhaps for very early July. I'm finding it hard to find free weekends, though.

I will also be going to Sparkle again in July.

Now for some music ...

Sue x

Boozy floozy ... and friends

It’s not been the easiest of times so I was glad that an opportunity for a fun afternoon and evening was available. Two friends, Tiff and Gina, were spending a few days in London and they’d asked me a while back to book the popular Sarastro’s restaurant for dinner last night.

But I’d also heard that Saffy, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, was in town meeting up with my friend Joanne as they had tickets to see Depeche Mode in concert. I am happy to clarify to younger readers that Depeche Mode were (or indeed still are) a popular beat combo of the 1980s. These crooners of a bygone era still apparently have a following and as Joanne was keen to tell absolutely everyone that she had tickets, and everyone was very jealous (why she didn’t get punched I’ll never know), I assume they are still popular. I myself have little ear for music so I'm happy to leave them to it.

Anyway, Joanne had just finished a shift as stand-in manageress at the Three Greyhounds, a small but popular pub in a busy corner of Soho so the three of us went to have a bite to eat at the good value and worthwhile French bistro Prix Fixe in Dean Street. http://www.prixfixe.net/london/restaurant/index.asp The food was good as ever and the staff very friendly, but I got locked in the loo for a while. I read a lot of WW2 escape literature in my weird childhood (while brushing dollies’ hair with the other hand) so I knew I would be free with a jolly old bit of application and pluck. The lock wasn’t the sort you could pick with a hairpin. So I virtually pulled the lock out of the door and made my escape by brute force. And I neglected to tell the Commandant of the damage to bistro property. I distinctly heard bullets whizz by my ears as me, Ginger and Frosty escaped to Soho and freedom …

So they went off to Dispatch Mood at the O2 (that’s the Millennium Dome for older readers) and, thanks to a casual comment in conversation I decided the evening would start off well at Christopher’s American Bar and Grill in Wellington Street. http://www.christophersgrill.com/rooms/martini-bar/ Very keen readers will know I’ve been here before. The polite staff asked “if Madame would like a seat at the bar”. Madame would indeed and the skilled French barman (le mixeur? – actually, I think that’s a Moulinex) handed me the cocktail list. I selected something suitably potent, ice cold, garishly coloured and utterly delicious to sip, like a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster with a feminine edge. The barman drew my eye, by a glance of professional subtlety honed by years of practice, to the noticboard detailing rehabilitation centres as the effect of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick connected with my girly head.

Now I thought I looked pretty smart in my pleated chiffon skirt, black and white top, my favourite little black jacket, satin shoes and smart sheer gloss tights but Tiff and Gina were in knockout dresses, absolutely stunning. And to think they ordered beers! They lifted me off my stool and plonked my woozy frame at the long marble-topped table that runs most of the way down the room. A small spill from my Girly Blaster etched its way into the stone, hissing slightly. Now I’m not one to mix my drinks … so it was definitely time to call a halt to that tradition! I have been intrigued by their most popular cocktail, the Nutella Martini. I had to have one. Oh it was smooth … and two women along the table were loud in their approval at my chocolatey choice! Recommended. It wasn’t so strong as the other one, though. (Not that that’s bad, you understand. Its just not quite as good!)

I have recently seen The Great Gatsby at the cinema and I thought we might have made good extras.

Decadence. I love it.

Anyway, we needed food so we met Ange, my super T sister, and went to Sarastro’s, an extraordinary restaurant in Drury Lane where the décor is as much part of the experience. http://www.sarastro-restaurant.com/ Our table was a good one on a balcony up steep little stairs (keeps the waiters fit). Avid readers of this blog (you lovely people – we must go out some time) will know we’ve been here before and will recognise the gold leaf, tiles, Tiffany lamps, books, cushions, erotic frescos, and air of clutter that goes with this place. The food is good (Turkish emphasis) and it’s the place for a party at an unhurried pace. Perhaps not quite what it was in its heyday when the founder was still alive, but it’s still somewhere amazingly fun, and they like us TGirls because we are flamboyant too! Do click the link to their website.

Tiff and Gina wanted to visit Trannyshack. So we walked through Covent Garden and bustling Soho to Madame JoJo’s and I showed them the venue and Escape next door where the usual excruciating karaoke setup was mangling popular songs, which are somewhat less popular with me as a result. I had serious work to do today so I abandoned the two of them to the tender lurve and silver-tongued charm of the admirers and Miss Dusty O. That’ll learn ’em!

I fell asleep on the last train home and nearly missed my station. Hope my lolling head wasn’t accompanied by any snores or any dribble. I see us girls as ambassadors of sorts for transkind – I would hate to cause a diplomatic incident by looking like some overfed boozy drooling snoring floozy! As if!

What a great day. Just the tonic I needed. And a big thanks to my really lovely friends Joanne, Saffy, Tiff, Gina and Ange who always make things special.

Sue x

Seasonal low

It always happens at this time of year – but much earlier than usual this year.

“I don’t want to be trans any more. Going to give this nonsense up and forget it.”

But I know from experience that in a few weeks it’ll be business as usual: down the salon for pretty nails, then a neat new wig, new shoes, a pretty frock for summer and those gorgeous tights that just can’t be passed up. And hey presto, we’re back in business again, en femme just about all the time. Happens every year, although in the past couple of years it’s been only a week or two of down time.

This year it’s worse, though. Partly because of the anniversary of all the abuse from other TGirls I had in May/June last year that’s made me more cautious. Plus a creeping realisation that a family inherited trait has serious implications for my and my siblings’ future health. Plus my abusive and enraged father’s deranged fit this morning: yet again a triviality turned him lurid purple with hate, he shook his fists, ground his teeth and spat and shouted and cursed and cursed and cursed just as he has behaved through the whole of my life. It makes me feel that I have now seen that bully for the last time. I’m not happy right now. But at least my fledgling business is keeping my mind occupied.

Hoping normal service will be resumed soon.

Sue x

Outings with TGirls and GGirls

Another “where I went and what I did” post. It’s what the readers like best!

So I went out one evening midweek to join the usual Brick Lane Set. I think that name sounds rather sophisticated, like socialite darlings of the ’20s talking over literature in witty ways. But most refer to them as the Brick Lane Posse, which sounds like a bevy of cowgirls moseying down the road to so as to deal with all the Indians! Actually, it’s a bit of both.

So that night we had a big group: Rachel, Denise, Helen Louise, Stephanie, Pippa, Irene, Jemima, Suzi and me. Started as usual with drinks at the Verge bar (although I was being boring and having orange juice as I had a serious work thingy to do the next day). Here we are (some of us). You wouldn’t believe how popular group photos of TGirls are – wait till this goes on Flickr.

Circle of friends: l-r: Rachel, Helen Louise, Stephanie, me, Suzi, Jemima

We chatted about spouses and dresses and photos. And then we marched off to argue with the curry touts. Rachel is very good at playing them off against each other so we get freebies and discounts. Steph wanted a change from City Spice and I’m inclined to think we should spread out net wider, but that’s where we went, having bagged 25% discount and three free bottles of wine. Suzi doesn’t think much of the wine there but since it’s free and we argued for it, we were damn well going to drink it, like it and not fuss! Darling, it’s the principle of the thing!

Unlike in the past it was quite quiet there that evening and so we sat upstairs rather than in the basement. The local young men outside the window could therefore see us and took rather an interest in us. I waved and blew a kiss at them which really set them off! Silly boys. One was prepared to be photographed with us but went all coy when Pippa waggled her stockinged leg at him. Darling, we won’t bite you … hard. So it’s just us girls here.

The Spicy Girls: hot chicks after a curry! l-r: Suzi, Rachel, Stephanie, Pippa, me, Irene

You know, these ladies love to dress up. Rachel had a beautiful red dress, the always-lovely Stephanie was in a little black number with stunning butterfly belt, Irene very feminine in her skirt and blouse, Pippa in a delicate floaty number picked out for her by her daughter and Suzi looking smart, elegant and sophisticated as she always does. For me, I guess that a drink and a curry merit just a casual look so I turned up in leggings, boots and a little daisy dress, but I did feel self-conscious when faced with all this glamour. Must scrub up better next time!

So, that was my outing for the week with TGirls.

At the weekend I went out with two of my closest female friends, Jan and Daniela. (The GGirls of the title = genetic girls.) We ate lunch in Soho in two parts: main course at Melanie in Old Compton St, now a firm favourite, and pudding at Princi in Wardour St where the cannolo siciliano was just amazing: a large brandy snap filled with cream with choc chips and candied orange. Heaven! Bang goes the diet, though!

And then we went round Kingly Court off Carnaby Street, the street that’s been reinventing itself from its groovy swinging Sixties image, baby, to be full of cuter versions of your normal high street shops, with some unique local dress boutiques, too. Anyway, Kingly Court, on three floors round a courtyard, is full of little craft boutiques, tiny art galleries and fitness centres. http://www.carnaby.co.uk/static_content.cfm?page_id=20

Kingly Court. (c) Art Alive

I love the Things British outlet where about twenty craftspeople at a time display their lovely little items of silver, leather, card, glass and other materials. http://thingsbritish.co.uk/ [NB site no longer exists]. We enjoyed some seriously good tea at Camellia’s Tea House on the top floor, each variety being served in a different type of pot and cup. They have dozens to choose from. According to the receipt, our order was taken by Mum. It was great to catch up with my two pals and chat about family, politics, work and future ideas for art shows. And, of course, I’m just their friend. Who cares that I’m in a skirt? In fact, Jan thinks it’s “awesome” to have a T friend. My girlfriends are totally awesome, too, and I love them.

Looking forward to seeing both sets of ladies again soon.

Future stuff: well, Tiff and Gina are coming to London at the end of the month and Tiff wants to go back to Sarastro’s. I’m sure we can sort that. And I’m booked into Sparkle in July. Truthfully, though, I’m a bit troubled by trans stuff and trans life at the moment and am thinking about my future direction. Maybe more about that soon, too.

Sue x

Big anniversaries, big evaluations

My parents recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Think of that. 50 years under the same roof with the same person. That’s even longer than I’ve be around (which kind of makes sense!)

I can’t boast such a grand total, but this week marks a significant anniversary for me: the fifth anniversary of my taking voluntary redundancy from a career that was going nowhere and making me miserable, and then finding fulfilment. When I signed the agreement to go in 2008, I was scared: of the unknown, of losing regular and acceptably paid work, the only serious career I had ever had. I had very little time to make the decision, too. But I felt that if I didn’t take the opportunity, I would be left wondering what might have been. Even with the plans I had vaguely made previously, I could never have believed what the opportunity would let me achieve in just five years.

I immediately found a new and far nicer job. Only part-time and much more lowly pay, but a delight. I had planned to take it for perhaps 18 months but actually stayed for over four years. I studied for professional qualifications, wrote a book, visited new places, and set up my own business. But the main achievement was to step from the closet where I had hidden my crossdressing and female desires since toddlerdom and pursue real life as the woman I have always wanted to be treated as. I was determined to do it, too. I went to the Boudoir dressing service twice that first year to discuss with Jodie Lynn, the proprietor, the sorts of clothes that would suit me best and to learn more about makeup. And then I went back and bought a wig off her (the one on the left). 

That Boudoir magic, 2008

My first wig shop visit straight after my first makeover at Mac, 2010

At Jodie’s suggestion, I joined the Angels website and I was first seen in public at their tenth birthday bash at Pink Punters in 2010. From then on it’s been a steady progress to normal life as a woman and acceptance by friends and public alike. I feel I’ve been treated better as a transwoman than I ever was as a guy, although to be fair, it’s not like I’ve ever had anything very serious to do as a woman, like get employment or arrange a mortgage, though I really don’t anticipate problems if I do live full-time as female. The best acceptance yet was doing that art show last autumn with my femme name on the advertising and being regarded as just another artist there. At last, my lifelong wish and achievement: just treat me as one of the girls, just as any other person, and I’m happy.

So I guess that redundancy is not the end of the world, but a new beginning of life. It was for me.

It’s been beautiful spring weather and so I took an anniversary day off just to stroll around London on my own, enjoy the sunshine and the blossom, do a little window shopping and people watching, and admire the view of the city from Primrose Hill, north of Regents Park.

Nobody takes much notice of a solitary TGirl strolling around. Which is just how I like it.

I also decided to celebrate by joining the Brick Lane set for drinks and dinner again. But that’s a post for a different day!

Sue x

A lesson in beauty

I've been delighted to be working this week on a project involving a beauty product. The 'ordinary' women who have been selected to promote it look absolutely radiant.

It's not just the product that makes them beautiful, of course, but the delicate makeovers they have had before being interviewed, and the professional hair care.

But not even that. The fact that they are being pampered and are receiving minor celebrity treatment is also obviously boosting their self-esteem. But mainly it's their being allowed to speak for themselves as valued people which is bringing out their inner confidence and innate self-worth that, in turn, promotes their physical beauty - the smiles, the sparkling eyes, the healthy features, the enthusiasm. Not all are convinced by or like the product, but that's just fine in this exercise. The honesty is refreshing and the openness brings out the genuine side of their natures.

Why am I considering this? Partly because - and let's be honest here - since I am still attracted mainly to women, they please my eye. But it's also because they have given new inspiration to my own look and boosted my aspiration to womanhood. Mainly, though, it's because it shows that valuing someone and treating them well is the best way to bring out their true beauty and worth. I have been accepted and treated better as a trans woman in public than as a guy, and that in turn has boosted my confidence and therefore my attractiveness, which in turn promotes acceptance. It's a virtuous spiral.

Treat people well. The dividends will be greater than your investment.

Sue x

"Playing dress-up"

It’s a month of serious work and family dos but I had a couple of girls, Rebecca and Gillian, round yesterday to give them a chance to dress at my place. “Guess you’ll be playing dress-up,” says Mrs R when she goes away leaving hubby behind. Yup!

My own latest dress-up session has so far gone on every single day for nearly 17 years (from the day I stopped purging my clothes and accepted I was trans), with breaks of a few hours for things where it has been better to look like a bloke on the outside, such as employment. My women’s attire has long since filled all my wardrobes and drawers and such men’s clothes as I have are falling apart and, truthfully, I’ve forgotten my male sizes. It’ll be a while before I live full-time as a woman but essentially I dress as one. Not everyone can, though, so time to dress as a woman can be precious and the trans and gay clubs and dressing services of Britain’s cities perform a vital service. But I like company and so, from time to time, I have friends round so they can dress in a safe environment.

Anyway, Rebecca and Gillian came early and got dolled up. They’re both experts and can safely be left to transform into very smart-looking women. We drove to Richmond (the one in Greater London, not Yorkshire, and which they have rather nicely named after me) and took a few photos around the town green before having lunch at a very nice French restaurant overlooking the River Thames. Apparently it was the first time either of my companions had been out to eat in daylight, and it’s always exciting to be with a TGirl enjoying a “first”. Pity about the rain, and that Becca had to go early as the Mrs seriously doesn’t approve of her dressing escapades, but Gillian and I enjoyed a bit of frock exchanging at home as we are a similar size. I suspect photos of her in my ballerina dress will crop up on Flickr for all those drooling admirers of hers. And I shall enjoy the nice little dresses she left for me when (if) the summer comes.

A very nice lunch with a view of the Thames. Becca's photo.

My thoughts recently have been running over various things connected with my socialising with other TGirls. TGirls who are married are very common indeed. But their circumstances all differ. Some have wives who are supportive, a few have wives who cannot support or live with them, some have wives who don’t approve and would rather not know more, some have wives who tolerate but don't participate, some have wives who do not know and, it is felt, would be better not knowing. All TGirls want to dress and the frustration of finding the opportunity can be terrible. Many lies are told and covering scenarios are built to try to deflect attention from what ‘hubby’ or ‘dad’ is doing on ‘his’ day off. This is the reality of the trans life for so many. I, on the other hand, can dress any day as I have no obligations to a wife or family, but I wish I had a partner to love; yet finding a partner who can accept that I am not really a guy is very difficult. It really restricts your choice. All this creates an unenviable position for TGirls. So I try to help other TGirls in a little way and have fun wherever we can, which seems to help make those golden dressing opportunities more memorable. Sadly, not every trans person appreciates that and I have been thinking over last year’s unjust abuse that suddenly exploded from several quarters at once as it has made me more cautious and disinclined to continue supporting trans issues on a political level. More on these thoughts another day. For now, just enjoy the picture of three TGirls having a nice meal together as friends and being looked after very well by the waitress who took the photo.

Sue x

Glad the fun is getting more local

You know, ever since I first exited my cocoon some three years ago and heard my heels clicking across the real world, I’ve been wanting to meet as many girls like me as I can and make new friends. Thanks originally to Angels I managed to meet people from all over the UK and in my first year of leaving my own home dressed I went to such far-flung places as Salisbury, Manchester, Leeds, Portsmouth, Brighton and Milton Keynes. But a night out in, say, Nottingham, Manchester or Leeds costs £150-£200 when you take train fares and hotel rooms into account. That’s crazy and has always left me longing for something similar in London. However, apart from poor-quality clubs like Way Out or Trannyshack, or going out with the Boudettes (which will also set you back a lot), there really isn’t a T scene here in London. In many ways that reflects the fact that you don’t need one, that you can go anywhere and do anything that anyone else does, without fear. But it’s made it very hard to meet others like me. Things may be changing now as I consider my next London lunch. There are two dozen fairly local girls I can email now to see if they want to join me, and I’ve managed to make contact with the Brick Lane Set, as you know, and now a new group, TG London, who like to visit museums. TG London’s events have so far kept clashing with other stuff I’m doing but I will get out with them soon.

So, late afternoon Wednesday of last week, I met up again with the fabulous Pippa and her fabulous-for-other-reasons friend Amanda for a spot of shopping in Covent Garden. Now Amanda is a normal girl about town, whereas Pippa likes to stand out. This was, I believe, Pippa's first ever proper shopping excursion, which is a special moment in the life of any TGirl. Well done, babe. It was fun to be with you and share your excitement.

Pippa and Amanda negotiating the cobbles in Covent Garden. Pippa's photo.

Anyway, the cobbles of the square in Covent Garden were not what a girl in five inch heels needs so we took Pippa to the Globe for a drink and were joined by my old pal Kimberley, who is looking really beautiful these days. So after Pippa went off to glam up even further for Trannyshack, Kim and I went for dinner, and afterwards dropped in on Joanne working hard behind the bar at the Cambridge. I had a serious work project the next day so there was no prospect of a return to Trannyshack. Just as well, as the North African guy (see previous post) had made a particular request that he come home with me after my next visit! I’m playing hard to get.

And then on Friday I went back to Brick Lane and was delighted to meet up with my pal Angela visiting from the Isle of Wight, Irene and Rachel again, and meet Joanne Tran and Rebecca George for the first time, both of whom I’d heard much about. Here we all are in Verge.

Verge Bar 22/3/13. l-r: Rebecca, Rachel, Irene, me, Angela, Joanne. Rebecca's photo.

And then we eschewed the Mexican and chewed the curry at City Spice where Rachel blagged three free bottles of wine from our favourite tout. To be honest, the chicken goa which I had with coconut rice was beautiful and in a street where many of the Indian restaurants are much of a muchness, this is not a bad place at all, despite the dubious practice of touting for trade. Here we all are:

Stuffing ourselves at City Spice. Rebecca's photo.

It was too cold for the usual photo outside and we all wended our ways. But I was glad to have had two opportunities to get away from the desk last week and to meet local girls. Rebecca in particular lives quite close to me so it would be nice to meet up with her again soon. At last, a local TGirl after three years of hunting! To be honest, my local LGBT group are nice boys, but I’m the only TGirl among the gay chaps and so it’s not so great for me.

It was perishing cold and, even with my longest skirt, heaviest boots and all sorts of warm underthings (which are not for discussion), I was frozen waiting for trains and buses home. Which is why I decided not to go to the Magic Theatre on Saturday. Such a shame, but it’s a two and a half hour journey home from there by night buses, and I ain’t doing that in sub-zero temperatures in a party outfit! A pity as I wanted to say hi to many girls there: Helen Essex and Ria Lacey especially, and have fun with Angela and Irene again. Oh well, there’ll be other opportunites. And at least and at last I now know local girls I can go out with regularly and get to sleep in my own bed afterwards and not fork out a fortune. Those Notts and Lancs girls are fabulous, but this local social stuff is beginning to work for me, especially as my lifelong friends are also more than happy to come out with me as Sue.

Forthcoming highlights: shopping with ‘real’ girls; being religious and trans (heavy); weekend lunch with the ladies; preps for Sparkle and Erotica; more artworks; new London venues blog. Let’s face it, this blog is surely better than your super soaraway Sun, or the Daily Mail.

Sue x

Work hard, play hard, seduce hard!

This is a kind of sequel to my last but one post.

I’ve had a lot of work this last fortnight. I won’t reveal details but I work for myself in a varied field involving a lot of international contacts. Anything from French TV licencing, German motorway construction, Italian nuclear waste management, Belgian pensions, American diplomats, Canadian web design, Filipino scientists, Pakistani law. Oh, and champagne promotions and beauty product advertising. That's just in the last couple of weeks. The point is that I use my male name and credentials which have a certain profile in my field now, but can work as female from my studio or my home. Best of both worlds, in effect. And, let’s face it, business needs a bit of acumen these days so going full-time female on an official basis with all its social and professional upheavals is avoided.

But being busy hasn’t stopped me from getting out one or two evenings a week. Let’s face it, I need time away from the desk/computer/easel.

So Wednesday of last week I joined the Brick Lane Set for dinner. Gillian came to mine after work to dress and we drove there but it took ages in the London traffic and we got shot off in the wrong direction after one tiny mistake in Central London. That’s one reason why I don’t drive here any more. But we had a good evening with Rachel the Organiser Lady and her posse including Suzi, who was out for the very first time, and the glamorous Pippa. I’d also invited my friend Irene. Here we all are at the Verge Bar.

The Brick Lane set in Verge; me, Pippa, Suzi, Rachel, Irene. Photo taken by Gillian and lent to me by Pippa.

 

I’m always thrilled to be with a girl on her first trip out. It makes the occasion very special. Well done, Suzi. You are very elegant and are lovely company. Hope it’s the start of a joyous life out in this big exciting world of ours.

We went off to eat at Loco Mojito http://www.locomojito.co.uk/ [NB site no longer active] where I’ve been a few times before. A Mexican that stands defiantly in a sea of Indian restaurants! Food wasn’t bad but the wine (a pinot grigio rosé) was terrible – the bottle was some bin end with a £2.99 label still stuck on it, and I won’t tell you what they charged for it! And they didn’t serve coffee. But, to be fair, that was the only time I’ve felt slightly disappointed there.

By the way, if you clicked on the link, you’ll be amused or irritated by the music or maybe both. 

Us in Loco Mojito, Pippa's photo.

Pippa and I decided the night was young and headed off to Soho. We had a drink in Escape bar, a karaoke sort of place which, truthfully, is not my thing and so I dived into Trannyshack next door, which is what Madame JoJo’s is on Wednesdays. I described my first visit to Trannyshack last summer here http://suerichmond.blogspot.co.uk/2012_06_01_archive.html

This time, as a lone girl, I was beset by Admirers, a special breed of men who love TGirls. Within moments of entering one had his paws all over me and was saying in an accent I couldn’t place, “Nice lady, come to toilet”.

Now why would I want to come with him to the toilet?

“Nice lady, come. Come to toilet. Toilet nice. I got condom.”

“No, toilet not nice.”

He looked at me in surprise: “But toilet nice!” he exclaimed as if it was a self-evident truth.

I politely declined. Apart from the fact that the toilets there are in any case cramped and inadequate, and, more to the point, that I don’t fancy that with a strange man, it somewhat dismayed me that this chat-up line was something that presumably brings him occasional success.

Then I got a drink. The barmaid rammed a block of fused ice cubes into the top of the glass with her fist. It wedged there inelegantly like an iceberg on an empty container ship. Darling, please use tongs, not the hand you handle money with. Yuck. I didn’t enjoy my drink as a result. Should’ve made her do it properly but it’s hard to concentrate when some bloke is pawing you.

So I left the bar and sat down. Bad move, as the next admirer plonked himself down next to me and grabbed my knee. “I think you have nice soft bottom” he said in his North African accent. I pointed out that that was my knee and that it was probably a bit hard. Not in the least bit put off, he continued his silver-tongued litany: “I come home with you tonight and we f***?”

Er, how about no?

He downed his beer, got up and said, “Wait, I go to toilet. I full of wee tonight.” A few minutes later he was back, having bought himself another beer, and went through the routine all over again. Hmm. Buy a girl a drink and maybe see if things improve? Nope, not on his radar.

These encounters are at once amusing and tragic, a tranny tragicomedy, the tranny shock at Trannyshack. They must get off sometimes, these admirers. But the total lack of finesse and charm is staggering. At least these two weren’t scruffy and menacing-looking like other admirers I’ve seen. My mood wasn’t helped by Pippa then bouncing in announcing, “God, the real women in this place are just gagging for it!”. Miss Dusty O, the compère, then announced a noisy T rock band and I realised my visit had not been a success. You win some, you lose some. Truthfully, the T scene is not really my thing as I prefer a normal venue like a restaurant, café, shop, pub, etc. But I’ll give Trannyshack a third visit some time and see how that goes.

As ever, I’d just missed the night bus and had to wait almost 30 minutes for the next one. I’d selected my knee-length leather skirt and mock-croc boots for the evening and they kept me warm in the chill wintry air, as well as my thick coat. Finally collapsed in bed at 3.30am and slept in all the next morning. Truthfully, I’m getting a bit too old for this!

This post is longer than I expected, so I’ll tell you about this week’s shenanigans in a new post. Thanks for reading, and I hope you had a giggle.

Sue x