Following a newfound habit of spotting towns with unusual names, some were noted from a recent trip to our son’s place in Tennessee. Our route took us to southern Indiana and then on to TN. Enroute, a couple of names found their way into my camera’s memory card…
No, it isn’t an antacid
The following info came from the town’s website:
On what was once a large farm, Gassaway, WV, the “little city built upon a West Virginia Hill”, was incorporated in 1905. The town was named in honor of the former United States Senator and one time vice-presidential candidate, Henry Gassaway Davis,
The town grew quickly due to the newly formed Coal & Coke Railroad. Located in the center of the state, Gassaway was midway between the two terminal points of Elkins and Charleston. Gassaway housed the railroad’s shops which employed many of the town folk. Known as the travelers place to stop, the Gassaway Hotel was a favorite. A once-booming railroad town with a depot, two hotels, a bank, schools, churches, shops, armory, and hospital, Gassaway is still a town rich in tradition and history.
Disclaimer: as of the 2010 Census, population was listed as 908…and sadly, we didn’t actually leave the interstate to drive through town.
Once we headed south, we came across the town of Santa Claus, IN. This is one which both my wife and I recall hearing about previously. And here we were, with a chance to visit. How could we pass up that opportunity?
Sign, complete with the broken “a” in America!
From Wikipedia: The town was established in 1854 and known as Santa Fe (pronounced “fee”). In 1856, when the town was working to establish a post office, the United States Postal Service refused their first application as there was already a Santa Fe established with the USPS. Several town meetings were held, during which the name Santa Claus was selected. It has the world’s only post office to bear the name of Santa Claus. Because of this popular name, the post office receives thousands of letters to Santa from all over the world each year.
With residential and civic development, including a holiday-themed amusement park (open all year) the size of the town has been increasing, from about 931 in 1980 to about 2479 in 2015. When driving on trips out of your area, you never know what you’ll find…
We received a letter from one of our “hotel card” accounts that our points (enough for one free room night) would expire during November. So we took a mid-week jaunt to Delaware to use the room, before we lose it. Why give them back a “free night?”
First stop was Lewes. There is so much history we didn’t know about this area.
In 1609, Henry Hudson sailed into the Delaware Bay in search for a Northwest Passage to China. His voyages contributed to the establishment of European colonies in North America. One of these, called New Netherland, was established by the Dutch. New Netherland included present day New York, New Jersey, and Delaware. The Delaware River, known as the South River in the seventeenth century, formed the southern boundary of New Netherland.
The area was permanently settled by the Dutch in 1658 when they set up a new trading post called Sekonnessinck. Another colony was established by a group of Mennonites under Peter Cornelis Plockhoy in 1663. The Plockhoy Colony was destroyed by the English a year later. The Dutch reclaimed the area in 1673, but just six months later surrendered it back to the English for good. The territory which is now Delaware was conveyed to William Penn in 1682. including the town named Zwaanendael or Swaanendael. It was built in 1631. The name is archaic Dutch for “swan valley.” The site of the settlement later became the town of Lewes, Delaware, named such by William Penn, in honor of a town by that name in Sussex County, England.
Zwaanendael History Museum, in Lewes, built in 1931 in a style reminiscent of Dutch architecture.
Second stop was at Fenwick Island, Delaware, the barrier island on which Rehoboth and Bethany Beach are located. The island protects the mainland coast from storms, and contains the Fenwick Island light with its two “keepers’ houses,” one for the keeper and one for the assistant. (Both are now private residences.) The light is 87 feet tall, brick, with a central cast iron spiral staircase, equipped with a third-order Fresnel lens, and was built on what was then a field, the highest point on the island. It was automated in 1940, decommissioned in 1978 after much area growth (putting it in a residential area), and dark for several years.
A public movement to save the lighthouse resulted in ownership of the lighthouse being transferred to the State of Delaware, and the lighthouse was relit in 1982. In 1997, the rapidly aging lighthouse underwent a full restoration and was rededicated in July 1998.
Fenwick Island Light
From there, we went to our hotel, checked in, and started our shopping expedition at some of the outlet stores within walking distance. While we were shopping, the better half knew I was searching for a new pair of ballerina flats, since our vacation chewed up one pair pretty badly. She handled it well, at least initially.
Our delicious dinner was at an Outback steak house, where the staff addressed us as “ladies” throughout our meal. This netted the female server a nice tip. When we finished up, we returned to the shopping routine. Every place we shopped, including women’s shoe stores, I was addressed as a female.
The better half commented to me that she wished her husband wasn’t buying womens’ shoes. This backpedaling began right after she came into the Naturalizer store looking for me, and I was walking around in a pair of really cute Mary Jane flats. The sales woman was treating me just like “one of the girls,” bringing me other shoes to try on. The better half stayed there with me, like a girlfriend would, but I suspect it was to try to hurry me up, not out of encouragement for her “girlfriend.” At least she didn’t play the “husband” card. She probably figured doing that would have embarrassed herself – and the clerk – much more than me! (And if she was having trouble with my wearing Mary Janes, it certainly doesn’t give me a warm, fuzzy feeling about her eventually seeing me fully dressed, say in a skirt, top, and heels. But that’s a concern for another day…the present was too much fun!)
I really, REALLY wanted to buy some shoes from that sales woman, because she worked hard on my behalf, but I can’t justify paying big dollars for something that’s not right…none fit well enough to take home. That size 12 curse was with me – again. And as it turned out, the better half ended up being the successful shopper that day.
Next day’s trip home was quite uneventful, after being addressed as “ladies” by the hotel staff at breakfast and check out…but no comment from the better half.
Just a few days later, Mandy was out and about again, alone for a couple days “across the bridge” in Baltimore, running errands en-femme the first day, with a rail yard tour the second. I applied my makeup at home (minus blusher and eye shadow…) as I now do with some regularity. Once I drove away through the cornfields, I slipped into a skirt and out of my stirrup pants right there in the car, and put on Mary Jane heels, earrings, engagement ring and lipstick. I recall thinking to myself, “Wow, that feels more natural!”
My first two stops were a couple of stores. At the membership-only big box place, I was to be added to the better half’s membership, so in the future, I can shop there alone – I end up soloing across the bridge several times a year. It took me a while to convince the store to actually do it (not sure what their problem was), but since I had an invitation form from the chain, and had brought the better half’s card along, finally they signed me up, and addressed me as female. The pic they put on my card appropriately appears to be that of a female.
Second store visit was a normal store visit for a lady…the pharmacy. No issues whatsoever. I followed that up with lunch at Subway, where I felt confident enough to use the ladies’ room. It would have looked and felt funny to use the men’s room while wearing a skirt. And it didn’t stir up any reaction from the kids eating nearby, which was a pleasant surprise.
Then it was off to the Baltimore Museum of Industry, a wonderful representation of industry in Baltimore, from just before the industrial revolution to the present. Because it’s located on the waterfront, skyline views from their docks are commanding – as you can see from my pic below.
As I was preparing to leave the museum, I decided I’d better use the restroom. Judging from the number of men making that same decision (a private party was gathering at the venue, and guys were all “going” before it started), I felt it would be less disruptive for everyone, if I simply used the women’s room. No need to risk arguments with guys about using the “wrong restroom.”
Good choice…the women’s room was empty when I went in. Right after I locked my stall door, two women came in, and occupied stalls further down the row. As I sat there, I thought to myself “Welcome to the ways of a woman!” Taking my time, I progressed slowly (there were several layers of clothes over and under my skirt). The girls finished up, washed their hands and left, while I was still adjusting my layers in the stall. It was my first day ever, to use only women’s rooms, hopefully the first of many such days! But I cheerfully admit to breathing a silent sigh of relief when I exited without issues – alarm bells didn’t ring, security didn’t haul me away, the police didn’t chase me, nor did the world stop turning.
Mandy on the waterfront at Baltimore’s Museum of Industry
The classic soda fountain display at BMI.
From the front yard of the museum…
After finishing up, I drove around the corner and down the street a mile or so, to Fort McHenry. The winter sun angle (quite low in the sky), cast a very photogenic light on the Fort. Unfortunately the wind was so strong that it made my little tripod unstable, precluding selfies, and it pushed my skirt between my legs, so my skirt looked like rather “strange-looking shorts.” I took a couple pix just to make sure, but none were usable…darn.
The girl in the walkway is not me. But she was attractive – I can only hope that someday, I’ll look that nice!
Hand-held Fort pics were all well and good, but shadows were getting long, and the temperature was now falling as sunset approached. My legs were fine because of my tights, but my jacket was too thin, and I was getting chilly. So I hiked back to the car and set off for the motel…where I freshened up my makeup, and headed for dinner.
With a bunch of events in the Baltimore and Annapolis areas at that time, there were lines at just about every decent restaurant (and I was not in the mood for belly-blaster-burgers.) The recession is definitely over – people are out spending money! So I headed for a little place I knew about from the good old days, a hole-in-the-wall in a shopping mall.
And this is when “It” occurred. I knew “It” was bound to happen some day, but truly never dreamed “some day” would be “today!” The hostess seated me quickly, and I was busy concentrating on my dinner choices from the menu. And, guess who walked by my booth? That’s right, none other than our current next-door neighbor! He (or maybe it was his wife, who was still back at their table) recognized me, and he spoke my name as he passed. What a total surprise (maybe shock is a more appropriate word – remember, this was some 60+ miles from our current home!) Not exactly where you would expect to run into a neighbor, who just 3 weeks before, had been laid up in the hospital for surgery. And by now it was well after dark, meaning they still had a long drive home…
Fortunately, the restaurant was dimly lit, and as he paused to talk, neither my skirt nor earrings were plainly visible – particularly to an unobservant male. My head was turned, so the nearest earring was hidden under my hair. He couldn’t see the other side of my face since I was seated in a booth, rather than at a table and my bracelet was hidden under the sleeve of my sweater. My nails and necklace were visible, of course, but that’s nothing new. My black-tights-clad legs and heels were safely tucked under the table…in dim light.
As we finished talking and he continued toward the men’s room, I looked in the direction from which he came. His wife and I exchanged smiles and waves – all in a very normal manner. Turns out that from where they were seated, he and/or his wife “could” have seen my top half as I walked in (if they were looking), and if she was looking as the hostess seated me, his wife “could” have seen my skirt, tights and Mary Jane heels. But once I was in the booth, my back was toward them.
OK, now for the question. Was “It” an unmitigated disaster?
While certainly not a desirable event, only time will tell if it becomes a major issue. At this point, more than three days out, I think “not so much.” If those same neighbors are near their windows, they can see into our house. We sit in front of a large window for our meals, and frequently the blinds are open. I’m almost always wearing a comfortable house dress or jumper – the American version, not the English.) The better half has been tolerant of those for many years, and remains so.
Several times, that neighbor and I have chatted in the back yard, he on his deck in a “preppy” men’s outfit and boat shoes, and me in the grass below, barefooted (with silver toe nails if he noticed), in a short pink sun dress over white capris. Certainly not “preppy,” but very cool, comfortable and feminine. I’ve been wearing that outfit a few times, over the better half’s objection, on hot afternoons when I either ended up on our own deck, or outside watering the lawn and adjusting the lawn sprinkler.
In contrast, the neighbors have never seen me in anything more masculine than capri or stirrup pants and ballerina flats, including to community social events. Today’s skirt outfit is/was only a small step beyond what they’ve already seen. So, there’s no real surprise factor.
Caller ID has proved that so far, my better half has received no phone calls from inquisitive neighbors…and weather is no longer conducive to outdoor sidewalk gabfests. Since the Medevac helicopter hauled someone from a few doors down the street to the hospital yesterday morning, there’s obviously something much more vital to discuss, beyond “me in a skirt and heels!” As I see it, my outfit might stir a short burst of gossip, but that should be the worst of it.
Of course, my amateur analysis is not guaranteed…I could always be wrong. (I wasn’t wrong. No apparent issues, to this day!
Bright side is: things could have been even worse. No, I mean LOTS worse. The hostess “could” have seated me at a table right next to my neighbors, who were in what was the evening’s open section. But fortunately, I asked for a booth, and they honored that request, in spite of the booth section being closed. I think you’ll agree, putting me at a table WOULD have been an unmitigated disaster! Can you imagine the three of us having to carry on generic, non-descript conversation, without questions being asked? My complete feminine outfit and appearance would have been plainly visible to them, thus “the elephant in the room.” If such an issue was destined to occur that day, I was certainly blessed that it happened exactly the way it did.
Though I haven’t curtailed my dressing on the “other side of the bridge,” you can be sure there’s one mall, and one restaurant, that I won’t return to en-femme in the future! (They shared that both are their favorites and they come often.) Never fear…there are lots of other places to shop and eat – Baltimore is a big city!
The following day dawned sunny, a beautiful day for a railroad shop and yard tour. I went back into androgynous mode, since I was around people from the sponsoring group, whom I know. And had a wonderful time! See picture below, in hard hat, work boots and safety glasses – ugh. Though I’m not sure what my old motto is, perhaps my new one should be: “I’d rather be wearing a skirt!”
Mandy dressed for a rail yard tour…
On the way home, I stopped at another mall, to look for some ballerina flats at nearby stores. But the mall was so incredibly crowded that I couldn’t get face-time with sales associates…too many women were ahead of me! The girls were fine with me standing there elbow-to-elbow with them, looking at shoes…they all just wanted to be the one who got that cute pair first! Little did they realize, that I was not their competition…size 12’s which actually fit well, are hard to come by.)
One thing I noticed as I walked the length of the mall, with mostly female shoppers out that day: every peddler (predominantly male) in every kiosk was out there “in our faces.” “Ma’am, here is a free sample…” or “Ma’am, let me show you this…” directed at every woman who walked by. Including yours truly. But this lassie has learned to say “No thank you” and keep going. Little did they realize that when they said “Have a nice day” to me after my “No thank you,” that I truly WAS having a nice day!
These trips served as my “grand fully-femme-finale” for 2013…it’s unlikely that I’ll be dressing completely for several months. So Mandy retreats into her suitcase…and will be out only in androgynous mode, perhaps with makeup, earrings, engagement ring and lipstick.
But I’m sure I’ll find something to blog about…
PS: yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon, the neighborhood gossip walked by when I was outside, and we talked briefly. There was no hint of anything about the restaurant incident. That’s a really good sign!
That’s the lamp, not me!!! (I had previously dropped it off for him to do the work.)
Soon the day arrived that the shop tech told me to pick up my lamp, so after lunch I paid the shop a visit. He was not in yet, but his associate told me to wait and he’d be in shortly. And that prediction proved correct.
We looked over his work, which was good. I had done the work for the last lamp myself, at a machine in the “company I worked for’s” shop. Having a pro do this one provided a better-looking finish, and he did more than agreed upon – the inside looked nice, too. I paid the bill…
Then he casually relayed to me that I have a male double, who is into politics north of Baltimore. And he showed me a picture…there’s definitely a resemblance, though the name is not similar, and I have no male relatives in the area, so there is no connection. He asked if I was married…”Yes.” “To a man or a woman?” Hmmmm. The first time for that question! “A woman…I like women, so much that I want to be one.” Then to reassure – or confuse – him a bit more, I added: “In case you wondered, I answer to “Ma’am.”
Time flew by as we chatted a bit more about my dressing. (Brings to mind the old joke “Why does time fly?” “Because everyone’s trying to kill it.” Sorry…bad joke.) And after telling me I’d look very pretty in dresses, he began to address me as “Ma’am.”
Being retired, I had more time than he did; as that discussion dwindled, he switched back to business – and made some good suggestions for painting my lamp. Then he invited me to bring more business of this type his way…and as I went to pick up the container with my lamp, he stopped me, and asked where I was parked (I told him). Said he: “Here, I’ll get that for you, Ma’am!” “Why, thank you kind sir…” He picked it up, walked out with me and put it into the trunk. As he headed back for his shop, he thanked me again for the business, and “Hope you’ll come back to see me soon, Ma’am.”
He was very nice…so much as to make me wonder if perhaps Mandy might have just acquired a “secret admirer.” On my first visit, I’d sensed that possibility already, thus I had paid cash for the work…just in case. I may never need to refinish another lamp (the last one was about 8 years ago), so I may never be back… He just doesn’t need to know that right now.
From our past travels: if you’re ever in Oklahoma City, be sure to add the Cattlemen’s Cafe to your list of “must-do’s.” They’re out of the way, right by the stockyards, but the food and service were great! The luncheon steak was tender, tasty and done just right! I like my steaks medium-rare, so I ask for medium, and voila! Perfect medium-rare. Every time…well, except at home. We (I) tend to regularly overcook them on our own grill…
The stockyards were quiet while we were there – nary a cow (or bull) in sight. So the clientele at Cattlemen’s Cafe was basically tourists, not cattlemen. (Strangely, more women than men.) But it’s said that cattlemen (and cattlewomen, or cattlepersons?) own the place on the mornings of stock auctions.
And I was addressed as female at lunch…which was surprising as I certainly didn’t feel feminine, despite the fact that everything I was wearing came from the women’s department. And despite being in the heavily-evangelical religious south. But hearing “Ma’am” is never an issue – and always a pleasure!
Things have been very quiet lately, and Mandy hasn’t been out of the suitcase in a long time. However, that doesn’t stop my daily life in androgynous outfits. My wife ordered two blouses on line, for delivery to the department store in a nearby town. And on one of my visits to the nursing home, she asked me to pick up her purchase.
The last time she asked me to pick up a package for her, she had listed my real name (and husband status) as an authorized party to pick up. This time, she didn’t, because she had planned to pick it up. But she gave me a copy of the email announcement that it was ready, and said she hoped they didn’t ask for ID. I reminded her that they hadn’t the last time, and simply thought I was her. I predicted that it would go well again.
When I got there (wearing stirrup pants, pantyhose, flats, turtleneck tunic and a sweater, with necklace and a bracelet), I handed the email to a 20something clerk, and said (in a softer voice) that I’d like to pick up my order, She went in the back and got the package. She asked me if I wanted a bag, which I did. Then as she put the package in the bag, she told me that she owns both blouses herself. “You’ll love them, they work well with your skirts as well as capris and shorts, and the colors will be perfect on you, (insert wife’s given name here). But if they don’t fit, remember you can always exchange them for the proper size.” As I departed, she said “Thanks for shopping with us (insert wife’s given name here.)”
Wow…but wait, there’s more!
A few minutes later, after a short drive and while standing in the checkout line at a pharmacy (in the same town as Mom’s nursing home), a 30-something woman and her approximately 10 year old daughter (apparently a Downs syndrome baby) were there. I thought I recognized them from seeing her at the nursing home a couple of times, but didn’t give the subject another thought.
She looked up, smiled, and said “Hi, I’m ________’s mother!” She apparently recognized me – but believed it was from seeing me at an exercise facility elsewhere in town. I said that I remembered her from seeing them at the nursing home, and we chatted for a moment.
Then the little girl started to cuddle up to me, which I assured the mom “was not a problem,” but her mom corrected her (“you don’t cuddle up to other ladies, honey” ) despite additional assurances that I understood since I have a 4 year old granddaughter. After being corrected, she then got shy and hid behind her mom…but as they departed her daughter turned around and gave me the cutest little wave and smile. I hope I run into them again sometime…
After hearing our discussion, the clerk addressed me as “Ma’am” while she rang up my order…and thanked me for shopping there by using my wife’s first name on the store card.
When I told my wife about my experiences, she said she really wasn’t surprised, since “that happens quite often nowadays.” So I reminded her that she can “pass” as me (remember my given name is now female), so it only makes sense for me to be able to “pass” as her. And we both laughed as we concurrently said something to the effect of “as long as they don’t ask for our ID!”
As some of you might know, this girl is a bit of a ferroequinologist. And I’ve purchased some railroad artifacts over the years, one of which is an unusual type of switch lamp. It’s quite rusty, and needs restored, though I know that sometimes restoring things causes them to decrease in value. But I’m not planning to sell it, so it will look much nicer being displayed after restoration! And I sure can’t put a rusty, greasy old lamp in the corner, on tan carpets! So I’ve been scouring Delmarva auto body shops for ones with glass beading cabinets, to have someone clean away the rust before I repaint it. (Rust-Oleum is NOT necessarily the answer here. Maybe after glass-beading.) After a fair amount of searching, I found one which is fortunately not too far from home…
I met the proprietor (male, 30-something) outside his shop, wearing my usual stirrup pants and turtleneck outfit, with pantyhose, necklace and flats. And I noticed that he gave me a visual once-over as we met. (Maybe he was already subject to gender confusion about me?) When we got inside, and began talking about how he could help with the lamp restoration, he started to address me as “Sir,” but like so many of our politicians do on many issues, walked that back, and changed to “Ma’am,” offering an apology.
Another minute or so of discussing business, and I must have become enough of a feminine enigma that he interrupted his “train of thought” with “I guess it would be best if I address you properly…so, I’ll ask – are you a woman, or a man?” I debated that answer for a few seconds, but finally decided honesty is the best policy. “A man.” “Oh, OK then. But you like to dress as a woman occasionally? You can answer honestly, as what you do doesn’t matter to me.” While that day I wasn’t really trying to accent my femininity, I said “Yes, occasionally.” “What’s your name?” I gave him my male name (which is now widely-recognized as female.) “How about your real name?” So I told him the same name. Wow, you use your real name, no matter what you’re wearing. Well, (insert real name here), you certainly look like a woman today…” (And incidentally never used Sir or Ma’am for the rest of my visit – avoiding anything remotely gender specific.) Then to my surprise, he suggested that I might want to take a few minutes and stop in at the nearby auto parts store. “You’re not alone, trust me.”
He re-railed his so-called “train of thought”, and we discussed business again. Then we negotiated a price for the glass-beading. I’ll provide the labor to disassemble and reassemble the lamp and save money, then drop the appropriate pieces off at his shop. He might just do the job while I’m there. And I might just take along a picture for him to see the “real Mandy,” if he does the work while I wait.
But by now, curiosity had gotten the best of me. Once the lamp and its pieces were safely tucked back in the trunk, I detoured over to the auto parts store. And to my surprise, there was a 20-something guy back in the parts racks (apparently not attempting to “pass”, just looking comfortably casual), wearing his long hair in a ponytail, with a company shirt and a just-above-the-knee black skirt, pantyhose and a pair of ballet flats, while pulling a customer’s order. I did some “shopping” to see if I could get a better view. (And not knowing her preference, I’ll use female forms of address from here on.) Her outfit looked very nice, something I’d wear in a heartbeat.
Eventually she came out to the register with an order, and rang it up for her customer. She might have noticed me as I walked right past her, but I doubt it. Certainly co-workers did (several checked me out), but nothing was said to me. Guess that means I’ll have to go back there to shop for some car things on occasion (fortunately my daily driver gets 35+ miles per gallon.)
Will I get to meet her on the next visit? Could I possibly arrange for her to wait on me? If so, is she personable enough to want to talk about our common interest, or too shy? After all, it’s not often that a guy in stirrup pants and flats, carrying a purse, meets a guy in a skirt and flats, who is busy at her work. If you’re wearing outfits like ours (and I certainly include myself in this category), you can expect to be noticed – especially by another girl! I’m envious of her freedom to wear whatever she wants to work…though I admit I took some liberties at the office (stirrup pants and painted nails), just before I retired. (Another long story, maybe for another day.) If next time I go there, I can arrange to have her wait on me, I won’t embarrass her by forcing conversation, but if she’s talkative to a sister, I’m getting a little better about not being particularly shy. Time will tell…
But bigger questions regarding the shop proprietor who pointed me in that direction still remain: is he a part-time girl like so many of us? Or perhaps an “admirer?” How did he know about transgender folks having female names/identities? Does he surf transgender sites? And how is it that he came to know about the parts store employee? By accident, or is that the “talk of the small town?” Maybe one day I”ll find out answers to these…and other… questions.
One thing is for sure, I won’t be showing up at the parts store or the body shop looking as I do in the following picture… I owe many thanks to Elizabeth Ann Taylor for “making me over” into my finest feminine appearance, back in 2014! The outfit and wig turned out to be feminine enough that even my own mother doesn’t recognize me in this photo! (I have to assure her that it’s really me.)
I hope to visit Elizabeth’s studio again, one of these days. And next time, I’ll wear Mom’s chandelier earrings with her necklace and bracelet!
I stopped by the auto parts store where there “used to be” a male clerk who wore a skirt to work, so I could buy a new taillight bulb for the antique car. Last time I stopped in, she wasn’t there. This time, she wasn’t there either. So the odds are beginning to indicate a possible job change occurred, for whatever reason.
Too bad I never got to meet the individual… Maybe I should stop by the other parts store in town…who knows, that may be her new employer!
When I showed pictures of my new longer skirt outfit to my mother (I’ve shared with her about my dressing – fortjunately she forgets everything before I hit the front door on the way out), she told me that she didn’t care for it because it was too long. I expected that response, based on what I previously heard about my tan long skirt outfit when I showed her pictures me wearing it. But I told her that longer skirts are in style right now. (She obviously doesn’t keep up with the news, watch much on the telly, or see what other visitors to the nursing home wear.) Needless to say, she didn’t believe it. So while there, I went on-line to some of the women’s sites where I shop, and “voila!” the proof…long skirts predominantly comprised the first few pages of women’s skirts. In addition, I showed her that there were some of the shorter skirts for sale, but she seemed to prefer those over the longer ones.
“If you are going to wear a skirt, then I like this type of outfit, probably with sandals having a bit of heel.”
preferred
instead of this:
Not so much…
And this outfit preferred:
Preferred
Instead of this:
Not so much…
“Why could that that be so?” I wondered to myself.
My memory of Mom’s attire in the late 50’s is calf-length dresses with heels almost all the time, the June Cleaver look. No pants… She was a “management wife” for Dad, with lots of fancy parties. I was given the “privilege” (if you can call it that) of going dress shopping with her, since she couldn’t leave me at home alone and elected to “not” get a babysitter for me, for whatever reason. So I spent lots of my free time watching her model her various choices in front of the mirrors, and select her new dresses.
In retrospect I wonder if that “yesterday” was the seed which sprouted into my preferred gender of “today”? There may never be an answer to that question, but it “could be.”
Come the late 60’s/early 70’s’s, Mom had switched to knee length sundresses, full dresses and skirts. There are some pictures in my file of her wearing sundresses I’d enjoy wearing today. One is shown below… love the pretty flowers! (However I’m now heavier than she was then, and this, as well as her other dresses, have been gone for years.) But at that point in time, I could be – and was – left home alone during those shopping expeditions. And trust me, I used that free time to try on some of her dresses!
Above is a particularly feminine (if somewhat dated) style and pattern of sundress that I’ve always admired. But even if it were still in her closet, it would be too small for me. I just happen to like it!
Of course, by the 1970’s her preferences changed more toward casual pedal pushers/early capri pants/slacks instead of dresses. She only wore dresses when required for events with Dad’s job, and that wasn’t very often – he was in the process of retiring. I was grown and on my own by that point, so my observations were rather limited.
From mid 1990 (July if memory is correct) the rest is history… Heeerrrreee’s Mandy! I guess that makes her about 30. Too bad her body doesn’t look that age any more….
So, I guess if I ever make a Halloween visit to Mom at the nursing home, a shorter skirt will be better, especially after she made her preferences known and finally said “I can see you’re planning to wear a skirt, one way or the other. So, don’t hide those legs under a long one. Make sure everyone can see them.” My response: “Even though there may be more comments?” She looked right at me and said: “You’ll have to answer those. They’ll be your problem, since you’ll be in a skirt.” Most likely I won’t refuse that invitation down the road…unless circumstances change. Maintaining modesty will be more of an issue in my shorter skirts. If I go that route, I’ll stand when possible, keep my knees together, and hope for the best…
But I’m still planning to wear longer skirts whenever I can…they’re cool and comfortable in hot weather…
At the pharmacy, a new-to-me clerk told me how much she loves my hair…it’s not the first time I’ve heard that, but it is always nice to hear. Too bad I need to get it colored right now, the roots are beginning to show. I guess that’s an integral part of having my own long hair (as opposed to many who are thinning or must use wigs) and being fully gray. Each type of hair (natural and artificial) has its own pros and cons…
Rest assured gray is not willingly going to happen – it would take major medical issues – either involving losing my hair, or preventing making trips to the salon, to cause it. I’m not willing to let my hair “go natural” – which will add 5 to 10 years to my apparent age. But…who knows what the future will bring?
The idea to have a professional makeup session done and get colors selected with help from a professional, germinated from some of the various blogs I’ve read. Since I know very little about makeup, and have no mentors, back in 2015 I visited a MAC counter at a major department store in the Baltimore area. The ladies there were very friendly, and professional…and the 20-something girl I spoke with was more than happy to help me!
We made an appointment for a convenient time when the better half was out of town, as this would be “pushing the envelope” quite a bit too far to do with her around. The artist gave me a sample of the proper color of concealer to try, so if it worked for the coverage, she would know how to set up my colors.
That day finally arrived…above is the outfit I chose to wear.
The long tan skirt was for modesty, as I knew I’d be perched on a chair out in the public eye…and keeping my knees together is still a challenge. The heels (new – and very comfortable) were necessary to keep my feet on the rung of the chair. It turned out to be a very appropriate outfit, and quite cool on a hot day…almost like “air conditioning for my legs.” Guys just don’t know what they’re missing, since they’re always stuck in pants! And it was my first full day out in public in heels…
The artists on duty were cool with both me and my attire…and I found out that they’ve painted guys there before. Actually, the most recent was 3 days ago. Female customers smiled and said hi as they walked by to check me out. Some told me that I looked good, and I didn’t sense any problems with “a guy invading our space.” Maybe they didn’t recognize that I was a guy in a skirt? Naaaahhh…
Here is a picture of me at the artist’s work station, after the application was completed. Needless to say, it was a daytime application, and it’s not at all blatant. I probably could wear it anywhere, anytime, with no problems. But that was exactly the “look” I was seeking. Unfortunately, the color appears a bit funky because of the fluorescent lighting…not great for accuracy or appearance.
Below is the obligatory restroom shot. I won’t try to kid you…it was a one-holer, so there was no issue from other women. I wouldn’t dream of bringing out the camera if it weren’t! And since I have very little practice with public washrooms, I need to build confidence about being out in public, before testing my wings with other women involved.
The picture after that was taken out and about sightseeing, to see how my makeup looks and feels, in action. It held up very well in 95 degree heat, and I had a fabulous time!
This girl has major issues with facial hair (how’s that for a tactful description of my situation?) All my previous experimentation with drugstore makeup proved that it can only keep the blue tint/stubble at bay for a relatively short time…maybe 2 – 3 hours max. That’s fine for a short event like a dinner out, or maybe dinner and a show that ends after dark, to minimize the chance of it being noticed. And it works fine to reduce the effect of the bluish tint for daily wear. For serious coverage, it’s not nearly good enough, and seriously restricts any longer activities.
So above is the result, back home after my MAC day out and about. My makeup hasn’t been touched (well, except for lipstick), and it still looks good after about 5 hours… If I’d touched it up at this point with a bit of additional foundation in the upper lip and chin areas, then some powder, it would probably have delayed deterioration for another 3 or 4 hours.
However, doing nothing – no maintenance at all (remember, this was a test) meant that everything would eventually deteriorate. By the time I cleaned up (about 9-1/2+ hours after application and some 12 hours after shaving) I could finally feel the stubble. And a close examination of my face showed the beginnings of makeup caking in recessed areas. A re-application of powder might have disguised it, but I was just too darn tired to try. Neither issue was obvious from a distance, but the mirror…unfortunately…never lies.
Going with MAC tremendously improves my presentation, and should help my confidence level as well, particularly if I can shave closer to the time of the event, and have a safe place to do some preventative touch-up at about 5 – 6 hours out. Thanks, MAC!
Now I want to go back “someday” for an evening application! THAT would be fun!
When I arrived at the nursing home for the first time after a vacation a couple years ago, I was told by the nursing home staff that Mom needs more clothes. And they told me that in my absence, she enjoyed wearing the one dress that made it to her closet (at home she seldom wore dresses, and most were the wrong size, so they went to charity when we closed up the house.) Not sure about their statement, but…
One of my old dresses doesn’t fit me as well as it should (too small), so I retrieved it from its hiding place, took that in to the nursing home and they labeled it for her. Not only does that free up some storage space in my “wardrobe place”, but if it fits her well enough, it could add an interesting twist to the old tale of “I wear some of Mom’s hand-me-downs.” Which I do. She will be wearing MY old dress! And even if it doesn’t fit her well, it can reside safely in her closet at the nursing home, labeled for her and safe from discovery.
But wait, there’s more!
For some time, we’d been getting “one per customer” reduced-price food offers from a restaurant in a nearby town. It’s a restaurant where in the past, staff addressed us as two women whenever we stop in, and they always inquire “One check or two, ladies?” I jokingly suggested to my wife that since they believe we’re two women, when they offer a menu item we like, and it’s convenient for us, we should go in and carry on the image, get two checks, then pay separately to take advantage of the offers.
Then came the truly shocking part: my idea wasn’t summarily shot down. It even got a chuckle. And let there be no doubt about my attire – no skirts. (Capris are always fine.) But the very fact that my lighthearted idea did not “die on the vine” with an abrupt “no way,” is a good omen…even though the ads stopped shortly thereafter…
Finally, while I was retrieving my dress for Mom from storage, I came across a denim skort I’d bought “dirt cheap” a while back – because it needed repair for a small seam tear at one side pocket. (Yes, my skirts and skorts have more pockets than my capris, stirrups or shorts). Thus, I’ve never worn it. While I was out and about, I took it to the cleaners for (hopefully) minor repairs. It should be a very practical addition to my wardrobe!
What really surprised me, though, was that the young (30something) female attendant at the cleaners couldn’t find the inside of the outer denim layer, since it was covered with the internal fabric shorts. She kept fumbling with the fabric and mumbling “What is all this?” My response was: “It’s a skort, Ma’am. Those are the shorts sewn inside the skirt. They make it easy to ‘not show everyone’ my panties when I bend or sit.” No response from her, but she figured out how to reach the area she needed. (I really didn’t want to have to show her.)
Is it conceivable that a youngster could live such an insulated life that she doesn’t know what a skort is? She was wearing shorts, so if she only wears shorts and pants, I guess anything’s possible. Maybe she’ll learn something about fashion, and try a skort – they look so nice!
This is a picture of a stored Rail Runner train at the former Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe (ATSF) passenger depot in Santa Fe, NM. It’s now a Rail Runner station in service for commuter trains between Santa Fe and Albuquerque.
As you can see, it was snowing quite heavily, but “the trains are on time!
In order to catch the next day’s train I needed a hotel room, and following is the view from my room. A glorious display for anyone who cared to look…
Amtrak’s eastbound train the next day was on time, and I was able to board without a red cap’s assistance. it sure helps when one doesn’t need to climb the steps to the second floor with a suitcase! I debated traveling in a skirt on this train, but after the experience last trip, I elected to bypass it this time, just in case.
Following is a nighttime picture at Kansas City’s Amtrak station. The Western Auto sign is a real relic, and they keep it operating as a tourist attraction. I waited till just before departure to be able to grab this shot with no passengers on the platform!
Just after Fort Madison, Iowa’s short stop, the train crosses the Mississippi River. Which, at this point in time, was substantially frozen over. The other times I’ve been here, it either was summertime, or not quite this ice-covered.,,,
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and the train arrived in Washington DC such that I could grab a commuter train north to Baltimore, and my lonely car which awaited my return….
For anyone who wondered, above is an outfit typical of the ones I wore on the trip.
What is it with panhandlers? Apparently the latest gig in Chicago is for guys to hold the door for women, then ask them for a dollar. That happened three times in two hours… I say “Thank you” and walk on by, leaving them behind, babbling. (While being observant of any signs that they are coming after me.)
It was time for my next train. I had contemplated changing into a skirt in Chicago’s Metropolitan Lounge single-stall women’s room for this part of the trip. But my “better angel” said “NO!!” And, more importantly,, in this case I listened. Still in my stirrup pants and flats, I proceeded with boarding. And lo and behold, who did I see walking toward the same train I was boarding, but two folks I know from one of the clubs to which I belong! (One of whom likes to gossip!) They unavoidably saw me and said “Hi.” Fortunately, I wasn’t in a skirt! Guess it just wasn’t my day – or trip – to be en femme!
Following is a picture taken trainside by a fellow passenger, whose “pleasure it is to help the lady.”
On this train ride, the train crew and sleeping car attendant all interpreted me as male, given my outfit. Even with nails, purse, flats and hair. Some even used the dreaded “S” word. But in the presence of those friends, that’s OK. The only folks who interpreted me as female (and addressed me properly) were several of the passengers (including the one who took the above pic) and the red cap I used to help me with boarding. Otherwise it was an uneventful trip west.
The following is of the plains of Kansas from the train. Flat enough for you? Notice the daytime half moon in the dark blue upper left in the picture? (Surprising, taken from a moving train.)
Finally we reached Raton, NM:
This rail route (Southwest Chief) has been under threat of discontinuance for years, as this section of track is only used by one passenger train in each direction each day. I have heard that there are no intercity buses, no airlines, and no rental cars available to the residents of Raton and several other nearby towns. The only public transportation in or out is the train, requiring residents to have a car in order to come and go as they please, or get to the airport for long distance travel. But through state and local efforts, enough pressure has been brought to bear that the government has not yet discontinued the trains.
After meeting up with some friends in New Mexico, like had been preplanned, I had the chance to ride a local train that runs between Santa Fe (the oldest capital city in the USA) and Albuquerque. It’s called the Rail Runner (a takeoff on the old cartoon character Road Runner.) And the door closing alarms are not standard beepers like on other trains. They make the imitation “beep-beep” from the TV cartoons!
It snowed in Santa Fe that day, seriously limiting my sightseeing options. Shops were almost all closed, so after a very tasty (and only slightly Mexican) version of rainbow trout with brocollini at the La Fonda hotel (oldest one in town), which originally had been leased to Fred Harvey’s hospitality company, it was back to the station for a train
In case you wondered, I was NOT wearing flats this day…neither were the other women out and about at the same time. I wore my ankle booties – that I’ve had for years! Incredibly heavy, incredibly bulky, but in the winter, incredibly useful, and which I take along for every winter excursion!
Mandy's Miscellany 
