Marcia's Story

Hello! I am a cross dresser, and have been for as long as I can remember, and these totally self-indulgent  pages are all about me.

Yes, OK, yet another cross dresser. I’m a bit of a one-off - but then aren’t we all?
    I’m a boringly normal sort of person in most respects - retired engineer, happily married (but now widowed), many active interests.

    But I’ve always had this thing about dresses. Not just any dresses, mind - until recently, they had to be extraordinary, in the true sense of that word. Costume, rather than clothing. You could say that my life has been a constant protest against the Tyranny of Trousers.

    While I respect a women’s right to wear whatever she chooses, I deplore the stigma that attaches to men who dare step outside the bounds of convention. A man cannot even wear that most masculine of garments, the kilt, without causing comment.

    I long ago decided not to let conventional attitudes concern me. I have discovered that I can wear anything, wherever I like, if I want to. Having proved the point, however, I no longer push my luck!

    Briefly, I'm now widowed and over sixty, and extremely fortunate in many ways. My dear wife accommodated my needs, I am not too large, and over the years I've found a whole variety of ways to give expression to my feminine urges.

    I was born in England, emigrated to New Zealand in the late sixties, and moved to Australia in 1980, where we now live in the hills, in a home with a beautiful garden where Marcia is often to be seen.

    From a very early age, I remember envying the pretty dresses that girls sometimes wore, but until I discovered that amongst my mother's  keepsakes was her first ballet tutu, I was never able to see what it was like to wear one myself.  At the age of six or seven, in a rare moment of privacy, I took it out and tried it on. Heaven!

 
(a reconstructed picture)

    Before long, I began collecting again, trawling through second-hand stores where I found an abundant supply of cocktail frocks, ballgowns and wedding dresses, which all featured the tightly fitted bodices and full skirts that I adored.

    Dressing up at home was always a risk, and it wasn't long before I was sprung. My poor wife had no idea of what I'd been up to, and coming home unexpectedly to find me wearing a wedding dress was a traumatic experience for us both. I explained myself as best as I could, and eventually, she accepted that I was unable to change. So by mutual consent we carried on as if nothing had occurred. She knew I dressed up when she was out, and I no longer had to be so careful to hide the evidence, but I tried to be discreet. 

    I went on accumulating finery, and not only was keeping all this stashed away becoming difficult, but as our youngsters grew up, the times when I could wear them at home became less frequent. It was inevitable that I would look for outdoor venues where I could indulge in my desire to stroll about dressed in the beautiful gowns which I longed to wear. I only dared do this at night, in deserted places where there was minimal chance of being seen. Fortunately, these were not too hard to discover. In those days, parks were not closed off at night as they often are now. Countless times I risked wandering about in the open in the most inappropriate attire; occasionally I was seen, but never pursued. I never attempted to disguise myself as a normal girl - I merely wanted to wear beautiful costumes.     
    Various evening activities provided the excuses I needed to stay out late, and many times I was able to roam unmolested, finding enormous satisfaction in the delights of wearing my full length gowns in aesthetically pleasing surroundings.
    Apart from having to take care not to trip in the dark, the only real disadvantage was that I couldn’t really see myself. I wasn’t able to attempt self photography. Sometimes my satins and silks would gleam in the moonlight , which might be bright enough to cast very clear shadows.

   After reading about other cross dressers, I soon felt the need to attempt some self photography, and if you like you can see the results by clicking HERE

    As time went on, the urge to make contact with others like me became irresistible. The problem of how to achieve this was solved when I heard of a venue in the city which was a haunt of transvestites, and I screwed up my courage to show myself there, dressed to the hilt in a long flowing hippie-like gown and the best attempt at make-up that I could manage. The result almost overwhelmed me, leading to my returning again and again, lapping up the attention and flattering compliments I attracted. 

    Unlike most of the others, however, I was NOT for sale, so I soon gave up those adventures. Emboldened, I began attending the 'Miss New Zealand' Drag Balls, which gave me opportunities to wear my most glamorous outfits. My skills with wigs and make-up slowly improved.

    Finally, I made contact with 'Hedesthia', an association in N.Z. for transvestites, where at last I met others with much in common, and regularly attended their weekly meetings. Here, I learned to tone down my style, so that I looked less like a drag queen (which I never really was,) and more like a 'normal' woman! Now, my wife could more readily accept me, in fact was even able to compliment me sometimes on my appearance.

    I was undergoing a significant change. I was discovering a new-found, gentler pleasure in expressing a truly feminine personality, rather than simply indulging in the physical stimulation of dressing-up in glamourous costume. I disposed of huge quantities of my hoard of faded finery, with much relief.

    When my work brought us to Australia, I lost no time in joining Seahorse, and over the next few years Marcia enjoyed a very full social life. By now, my wife had become quite accepting of this 'other woman', and we often went out together. I made several good friends, in due course joined the committee, and took an active part in keeping the club going. 

    In order to reduce the expense of maintaining a fashionable wardrobe, I began dressmaking. As my skills with the sewing machine improved, I was able to undertake making up the costumes that I had for so long aspired to - eighteenth century panniered gowns.  Many times, I attended Costume Balls which were fairly regular events, attracting hundreds, and these provided me with the opportunities to show off the best of my creations.

    After many years, however, we began to tire of club meetings, and I sought new outlets for my energies. I took up ice dancing again, found a partner, and together we worked on the endless quest to improve our standard of skating. I found extraordinary pleasure in this recreation; I had no talent on the dance floor, but on ice, I found the joy of gliding smoothly together to music was delightful. All spiced by the thrill of speed and risk of serious injury! 

    An unexpected bonus was that the dance group, from time to time, held social skating events that featured dress-up themes, so it wasn't long before I succumbed to the temptation to turn up in a dress. While this was reasonably well received, I didn't dare repeat it too often. All the same, dancing in a dress was a wonderful feeling.

    My wife and I went to a prestigious New Year's Eve Costume Ball. I wore my finest eighteenth century gown with an enormous wig, and will never forget the wave of acclamation that greeted my appearance in the parade. Truly a memorable night! The following year, we went again, wearing a similar ensemble, with almost the same success. But I knew that an experience such as that first event provided could never really be surpassed.

    I'd made myself several fairy-like costumes, and I found places out in the open where I could safely roam about, in daylight, dressed in any way I pleased. These exploits gave me a great deal of satisfaction. 

    I seldom troubled now to wear ordinary everyday dresses. Posing as a woman is a fantasy at the best of times - so few are able to do it successfully - so I thought I might as well wear exactly what pleased me most. The forty or so costumes in my wardrobe satisfied all my desires.

   My partner and I entered skating competitions for "interpretive" prizes, and sometimes I skated in reverse roles - most enjoyable!

    Now that our family had grown up and we had the house to ourselves, I could roam unobserved in the garden almost whenever I liked, and I now needed little more than this to keep me contented.

    After all that - what next, I asked myself! The answer was to explore the web - which in turn led to my publishing these pages. I hope you'll enjoy them.

    It also led to my discovery of a category of cross-dressers I'd not previously encountered - those whose preference is for 'Little Girl' styles. And I realised that this appealed very strongly to me. Of course, many of the costumes I already had were very childish, particularly the 'fairy' costumes, but they were nevertheless adult costumes. I now discovered that at heart, I truly was just a little girl, who had never grown up, who loved dressing up!

    Now I find greater contentment from making and wearing pretty little frocks and dresses such as very young girls might wear, than from any other form of indulgence. But since going out in public pretending to be a ten year old child might be stretching tolerance just a little too far, I still dress as an adult when I go out shopping.

  All in all, I know I am so very fortunate.

Here are some more -or-less current photos: