The Beaumont Society's November weekend in Rotherham is always good fun - not only because it's so well-organised and well-presented, but also because it gives me an opportunity to venture into Sheffield's Meadowhall shopping mall on Saturday morning to do some Christmas shopping. This time around, I'd offered to accompany my long-time pen-pal Jessica into the mall on what was to be her début public outing. However, Jessica had had enough after an hour or so, and had returned to the hotel, leaving me the rest of the day to wander around alone. After a further hour's unsuccessful searching for a pair of thick woolly socks for my father, I'd seen something in Debenham's which I thought might be a suitable alternative - a pair of soft padded slippers, shaped like an animal, with a face on the front! In this case, the face belonged to the dog Gromit from the popular television animation Wallace and Gromit - assuming that my father has the courage to wear them, those would definitely keep his feet warm!
So, armed with a pair of Gromits, I was browsing in the general direction of the nearest 'Pay here' sign, when I happened to see a tall woman ascending the escalator wearing a full-length black dress and high-heeled shoes. "Rather unusual for a Saturday morning shop", I thought. "Either she's another tranny, or something interesting's going on upstairs." Not wanting to miss anything, I immediately paid for my purchase, and made my way to the second floor. There she was again, standing next to another similarly-dressed woman, and a third shorter woman wearing a trouser suit. Some music was playing alongside, so it was evidently a promotion of some sort. My curiosity satisfied, I returned to the issue of what to buy my mother. Now, I reckoned that she'd envy my father's slippers (and would probably end up wearing them anyway), so I thought a similar pair for her would help to soothe family relationships. I found a pair based on a cat (more suitable, I thought, than a dolphin, a hedgehog or a rabbit), paid for them, and made my way back to the escalator to descend, and exit the store.
But what I'd thought was a promotion had turned into a fashion show, and a crowd of ten or a dozen people was standing watching. I joined them, but caught only the last three exhibits. Then the seven models were all called out together. I haven't a clue what six of them were wearing, because my eyes were drawn as if by a magnet to the seventh. She was adorned in a gold sequin-covered mini-dress with thin shoulder straps and a wide and low V-neck. It was gorgeous! The crowd had applauded the presentation, and were dispersing when the woman in the trouser suit walked straight towards me, and broke my spell. She handed me a leaflet, and returned to her stand. I read it. "Personal Shopper Jayne Carr will help you purchase that perfect party dress ...... hmmm, sounds fun. A trained Style Consultant ...... Style Consultant!?" I walked up to her, grinned, and asked, "Are you trying to tell me something about my dressing style?" She was right - my style was rather conservative, but for Jessica's sake, I'd promised to dress down so as not to draw undue attention to us. However, Jayne took the joke, and replied, "Not at all. I just thought you might be interested in the Personal Shopping experience." She was right - I was. "Unfortunately, I've only got another couple of hours before I need to get back to the hotel," I began, "but if you can do anything in that time, I'm game!"
She decided that she could. We spent several minutes looking round the various stands in the shop, although I fear her idea of what I should look like didn't coincide with my own. After being offered a number of full-length black evening dresses, I said, "These long frocks are lovely, Jayne, but they're not really my style. Anyway, I already have a long gold frock, and one's enough. Look, if I tell you that my nickname is 'The Tart', and that this skirt ......" - I looked downwards at my 18-inch skirt - "...... is the longest of my short skirts, does that give you an idea?" She looked at me amazed, and asked "How long are your other skirts?" "A good four inches shorter than this one," I answered, grinning. At this point, surrounded by elegant clothes, talking to a tranny with little interest in looking elegant, many people would've given up. But not Jayne. "OK. How about something shorter, but sophisticated?" "Like that little gold number your model was wearing?" I asked. "You liked that?" She seemed surprised. "It's gorgeous", I replied, then added "I've seen it in silver too, somewhere over there ......" She was already on her way - I followed in hot pursuit.
Well, there was one left, in silver, size 16, so we grabbed it. We also picked up a short black chiffon dress, then decided to call it day - anyway, I was dying to try on the silver dress! She led me back to her stand, and into her private changing room where we could talk. She took some personal details while I closed the curtain and took off my skirt and tee-shirt, replacing them with the silver dress. Then: "Wow!" Apart from that, I was lost for words. The leather strappy shoes I was wearing didn't really go, and the brunette wig didn't look quite right either, but the dress ...... "Let's see", she said excitedly. I pulled back the curtain, and turned to look at my reflection from a more suitable distance. We agreed that it looked absolutely fabulous - it fitted, it was the right length (although somewhat shorter on my 6-foot frame than it'd been on the model earlier), and it felt so natural that it could've been designed with me in mind! I felt confident in a way I'd never felt before - like I'd imagine a model feels on a catwalk. So it was with only mild enthusiasm that I tried on the other three dresses - one of the long ones was a size 14 and was too small, the other had a neckline which served to emphasise my broad shoulders, while the chiffon dress did absolutely nothing for me. In fact, I couldn't wait to put the silver one on again! I was tempted to wear it in the store to take up Jayne's offer of a coffee, but I wasn't wearing the right knickers, and ...... well, let's just say that if anyone had been unsure about my sex before, they'd have no doubts any more! So reluctantly, I changed back into my skirt.
The price tag on the dress was £130 - far more than I'd ever paid for an item of femme clothing before. "OK Jayne", I said seated in her consulting room sipping my coffee. "Convince me to buy it. Help me justify spending that amount of money." In reality, it was already sold, and she knew it, but she played the game nevertheless. "You like it?", she began. "I love it - it's gorgeous". I looked longingly at it draped over the side of a nearby chair, its sequins glistening in the light. "You can afford it?" She knew I could. "Price is supposed to be irrelevant, isn't it?", I asked. "OK! Do you want it?" I didn't even bother to answer that one. "There you are then - you've bought yourself a Christmas present." I smiled. I knew it would be futile to argue with this line of reasoning - she was too good. "Sold", I said quietly [1].
From personal notes.