Several people have expressed an interest in my article in the March 2000 Beaumont Magazine about wearing a skirt to work. The piece, you recall, described the events up to my negotiations with my company's Policy Unit. I therefore decided to write this article as a follow-up, picking up where the last one left off. Obviously, as the novelty has worn off at work, there's progressively less to tell, so I've also included the details of some significant events in my personal life.
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It was the 20th September 1999, and I was on a train out of London wearing a long business skirt, a red blouse, and a pair of high-heeled shoes. I was having difficulty believing what had just happened - my company had agreed to my request to be allowed to wear female clothes at work. Wow! By coincidence, this meeting had come just four days after my separation from my partner of nearly twelve years, and my move into a bungalow on the western outskirts of Ipswich. I found myself wondering how much truth there was in the old adage that momentous events occur in threes ......
Back at work, I decided not to push things too hard for a while, and wore skirts for about half the time to allow people to get used to me gradually. Five weeks took me up to my annual holiday, which I always take in late October and early November to fit in with my musical schedule; but this holiday would be different - my first ever as a single man! I had no intention of rebounding into another serious relationship - although the truth was that my previous one had been deteriorating for a long while, and for a variety of reasons - so I decided to just hang loose and have a good time. In fact, my only plan was to do a scuba-diving course in the warm waters off the Caribbean island of Grenada, and, of course, to spread a little 'trans-awareness' around the private resort into which I was booked. So on 19th October, having painted all my nails pearlescent pink, I set off for Gatwick airport with plenty of jazzy shirts and beach shorts - but also with my tranny photograph album, a couple of long cotton skirts, some sleeveless tops, and a pair of high-heeled sandals, just in case the opportunity arose!
I'd stayed at this resort in 1998, and the staff know me well - I'd made a name for myself playing the piano in the bar - but none of them was yet aware of my cross-dressing activities. So, during the first couple of days, I let several of them into the secret of my new-found joie de vivre, and they in turn were able to enlighten a number of curious guests with the story behind my pink nail varnish! Whenever I got the opportunity to show the contents of my album, I was always careful to point out which skirts I'd brought with me - and predictably, some people asked why I hadn't worn them in the resort. So, having already upset the restaurant staff by wearing tailored shorts to dinner instead of the required trousers, I gave them something else to think about halfway through my first week by changing to sleeveless tops and long skirts. Surprisingly, they just smiled courteously, and said nothing. I then began hinting about my high-heeled sandals, and was eventually 'persuaded' to wear them too! Just two guests publicly criticised me, but the majority simply didn't care.
It was at dinner on 30th October while I was wearing this ensemble with dangly silver ear-rings, mascara and perfume, that I walked confidently into the restaurant, and set eyes for the first time on a young American woman, Kim, who was captivated by my courage and self-confidence. It was two nearly days before we managed to get some time together, but from that moment, we were inseparable. By the time I left the resort on 3rd November, we'd swapped home and e-mail addresses, and telephone numbers, and had arranged to meet in England in the Spring of 2000. Meanwhile, some of the resort staff already had us married off ...... but more about that later!
With the excitement of my holiday behind me, it was back to work, where I was now becoming much more confident about being the only man in a skirt. I was also regularly wearing skirts to my evening music rehearsals, and even for shopping on a Saturday morning in town. People stared, of course, but the reaction was more muted than I'd anticipated, and the dire consequences predicted by my tranny colleagues didn't materialise. Nowadays, only a few brave souls take me on verbally in the high street - and most subsequently wished that they'd kept quiet.
Meanwhile, Kim and I had changed our plans, and she came to stay with me over the millennium holiday instead. By that time, she'd proposed, and our Christmas presents to each other were a pair of engagement rings. While she was here, I took her to The WayOut Club in London - it was a baptism of fire, really, as well as being the first time she'd seen me 'dressed' in real life. But she loved it, and we spent the first hour on an empty dance floor with our skirts up round our waists, flirting outrageously! We also made some tentative plans for our future together, including her move to the UK in August 2000, and the possibility of marrying on the beach back in Grenada on the date we'd adopted as our first anniversary - 1st November.
After Kim's tearful departure, the year 2000 rapidly became just as routine as 1999 had been, with the exception that, like it or not, this was The New Millennium, with the consequence that my theatre group had been invited to do two prestigious concerts at Ipswich Town Hall at the end of January. As one of only a handful of theatre pianists in the area, I'm regularly asked to do concerts for various local groups; generally, I endure them - modern music from London's West-End stage shows features quite strongly in amateur theatre repertoire, but I regard much of it as uninspiring and trite, especially when taken out of context. So when, at the band call, the five-piece orchestra were asked to wear DJs, this was the final insult, and there was little to motivate me to stay. But, of course, it was too late to back out then, so I made do with registering my protest to the committee, then tried to forget about it.
When the concerts were over, I reacted with a vengeance. I felt unclean - like I'd betrayed myself by wearing such an ugly outfit. As it happened, the very next day, I'd agreed to do a rehearsal for a different theatre group - so I pulled out a short flirty kilt, put on some opaque black tights and a pair of high-heeled shoes, and set off for Felixstowe, calling in at my local supermarket for breakfast on the way. In retrospect, the outfit was inappropriate only because it was too dressy for the occasion. I'm sure that, had a woman worn it, she'd have been stared at just as much as I was - but whereas she'd most likely have been regarded as a tart, I probably came across as merely eccentric. However, 'eccentric' is fine; if it allows people to accept me with a smile and a shake of the head, then it makes my life as a pioneer that much easier, and also paves the way for anyone who wants to follow in my footsteps.
But the psychological effects of those two concerts were far-reaching. The following Monday, I simply had to wear a skirt to work - and the next day, and the next ...... In fact, several weeks passed without me touching a pair of trousers, but no-one at work - or anywhere else, for that matter - seemed the slightest bit concerned. A more pressing issue for me was that I'd be expected to wear a DJ - or at least something formal and 'male' - for future theatre engagements, and I was no longer sure I could cope with that. So I contacted the Musicians' Union to ascertain my rights to wear a skirt-based outfit in the orchestra pit; their surprising reply was that, provided my contracts don't specify a dress code, they'd defend my decision to wear anything "appropriate to the occasion"! I therefore informed my theatre group that, as of April, I'd like the same freedom of dress in the pit as the female players enjoy, and I offered to decline the position of pianist in their prestigious May show - Mack and Mabel - if they had a problem with this. Well, there was no problem, and despite the orchestra being told at the band call that the dress code was "DJs for men, and whatever women wear for this sort of thing", I said nothing, and turned up on opening night wearing a white sleeveless blouse, a long-sleeved black jacket, an ankle-length black skirt (one of Kim's cast-offs), black high-heeled strappy sandals, and red toe-nails! And the reaction? Absolutely nothing.
Meanwhile, 19th February had arrived. I'd booked a seat on a flight to the US to spend a long-awaited week with Kim, and despite some concerns about airport crowds, customs and immigration, I decided to travel wearing a long skirt. As it turned out, my fears were without foundation, as were Kim's fears about me going outside her apartment wearing anything except the most conventional of outfits. In fact, while I was there, she took me to a place named New Hope, in Pennsylvania. At first sight, New Hope appears to be much like any other small US town, but it has a most refreshing attitude towards cross-dressers and gays. In fact, I'd been expecting a carnival-like atmosphere, with guys and girls in drag everywhere, so I decided to go completely en femme [1]; however, being the middle of winter, the place was virtually deserted! Whether this added to my feeling of unease at the way I'd chosen to dress is an interesting question - but I nevertheless considered that my wig and make-up had been a mistake, and I therefore decided to return without them on my next visit.
By now, the plans for Kim's and my future together had firmed up somewhat, and while I was in the US, we spent some time poring over the paperwork concerning her intended immigration to the UK in August. But despite taking great care to ensure that everything was in order, the UK embassy in New York rejected her application on a technicality a week after my return to the UK. To cut an extremely long story short, after weighing up the legal, logistical, financial and emotional factors, there was only one option - marry in the UK at least three months prior to our planned trip to Grenada. Since the timing of the latter was non-negotiable, this meant bringing our wedding forward to mid-July. So the next time Kim came over in April, we went to see the registrar in the nearby town of Stowmarket, and booked a quiet ceremony for 20th July. His official notice of our intent to marry satisfied the embassy, who promptly issued Kim with a visa, and the July date will give the UK Home Office ample time to process her application for permanent residence here before we leave for Grenada in October. Grenada will now be our honeymoon, and while we're there, we plan to renew our vows in a beach ceremony on 1st November - matching sarongs will be the order of the day!
Of course, our revised wedding date meant that Kim had to bring forward her move to England, and we chose 16th July. My final trip to the US in late May therefore saw us finalising details of what was going to be shipped to England, and sorting out the logistics of where we were going to put it all when it arrived on the doorstep! Unlike my previous visit when there'd still been snow on the ground, the weather was now hot and humid - perfect for long walks in summer skirts through the pretty countryside a few hundred metres from Kim's apartment. As she'd promised on my previous visit, Kim took me back to New Hope, which was much more lively at this time - especially as it happened to be the Sunday before Memorial Day. I decided to wear a black-and-white microskirt (which I'd bought during my previous trip to the US), a sleeveless tee-shirt, and strappy high-heeled sandals, but no wig or make-up [2]; both Kim and I felt extremely at ease, and the day was great fun, although I was disappointed at still being the only person in any kind of drag!
The final six weeks leading up to Kim's move were very busy for us both. She was systematically packing all her important, expensive and irreplaceable belongings into a total of 24 boxes for dispatch to the UK, and organising the sale of the rest - and, of course, sorting out a myriad of other details, from requesting final bills from the utilities companies to working out how to get to Newark airport on the 15th July without a car! Meanwhile, I was finishing decorating the bungalow, and making space (or buying new furniture) to accommodate her clothes, books, CDs and computer when they arrived. Finally, the 16th July dawned, and I was up early for the drive to Heathrow airport to meet her overnight flight. Despite extensive low cloud over London, the plane landed on time, and Kim appeared at the exit from Terminal 3 some 45 minutes later, having cleared immigration without trouble.
I took a day off to help her with the immediate task of moving in, although I had to return to work early to conserve what was left of my annual leave entitlement! Then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the 20th July had arrived; surprisingly, it dawned bright and warm, which was in sharp contrast to the grey skies of the previous three weeks - so a quick revision of our chosen cold-weather outfits was required. In the event, I decided to wear a long black slit skirt and a grey beaded sleeveless blouse for this special occasion, while Kim opted for a lilac skirt patterned with flowers and a matching cardigan. We arrived at Stowmarket Registry Office in good time, and met our three guests whom we also nominated as witnesses. The noon ceremony was simple, consisting only of an exchange of vows and rings, and the signing of the register - it was all over in a few minutes! After some photographs in the beautiful sun-drenched gardens surrounding the Registry Office, we invited our guests for a drink at a local pub before making our way to the excellent Tot Hill House just outside Stowmarket for a quiet celebratory lunch.
No sooner had we arrived back home at around 3.30pm than we had to start getting ready for our special evening out - a performance of The Rocky Horror Show, which by chance was on stage for the week at the Theatre Royal in Norwich. Naturally, we had to dress the part, so heavy make-up, suspenders, stockings, and high heels were mandatory for us both! Of course, the story-line of this cult show (if it can be said to have one) is irrelevant, but the performance lived up to the spectacle it'd been billed as, and a great time was had by all - although the limited space made the "jump to the left" in The Timewarp impossible to execute without trampling on one's fellow participants! Some people have since commented that this was a very strange way to celebrate a wedding day, but Kim and I saw it as an unusual end to an unusual courtship, and as an unconventional beginning to what will certainly be an unconventional marriage.
So where does it go from here? Well, when Kim's settled in the UK, she wants to further support my activities aimed at promoting male freedom of dress, and to that end, we intend to co-author a web site, and possibly to publish some material on paper. In the meantime, I'm taking the liberty of including a couple of photos of our wedding with this article [3], [4]. Unfortunately, the deadline prevents the inclusion of pictures of our ceremony in Grenada, so I'll submit these for inclusion in the March 2001 issue, along with a £10 bribe to ensure that they're printed!
Published in the Beaumont Society Magazine, Vol 8 No 4, December 2000.