I was browsing the shops in Norwich one day last Spring (in male attire) looking for something very short to go with some boots I was thinking of buying. I happened to be in TopShop, engrossed in my quest for the ultimate microskirt, when I was approached by a very pleasant young lady, who asked if I needed any help. "Yes," I answered. "I'm looking for a skirt." I have a tendency to state the obvious when caught off-guard. "Of course, sir." she replied. "Who's it for?" At this point, I realised that the standard reply of 'my girlfriend' would have been more of a give-away than having 'transvestite' tattooed across my forehead, so I boldly said "It's for me. For a party." She clearly understood, and a smile crept across her face. "OK. What size are you?"
Well, we spent 15 minutes rummaging through the shelves with a tape-measure, and eventually chose two items. We'd just reached the point where a woman would ask to be shown the fitting room, when she inquired "Would you like to try them for size?" "Are you serious?", I asked, feigning surprise. "Of course. The changing rooms are at the top of the stairs." She signalled into the distance. So I went and tried on the two skirts we'd selected.
I was just admiring myself in the second of these skimpy creations, when a familiar voice outside the curtain said "How are you getting on?" It was then that I realised that the cubicle had only one exit, and my shop assistant was standing outside it. "Um, I can't make up my mind", I replied, wondering whether I could make myself invisible using willpower alone. Then the voice said, "Can I see?" Well, you have to admire her nerve, I thought. So I pulled back the curtain, and there we stood - I in a T-shirt, socks, and a microskirt showing my underpants, and she with a wide grin on her face. She deserved to make the sale after that!
From "Sally's Learning Curve", Beaumont Society Magazine, Vol 5 No 1 March 1997.