JaneHenderson
Forum Replies Created
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I ended up trying Butterfly, which was disappointing, in the end. I guess there simply aren’t enough people online who actually want to meet up, whatever the motivation. Fortunately, Sydney still has places where a girl can have real adventures….
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Hi Grrrls
Call me weird, but I like the world ‘not being there yet’. I like that my heart races as I step into the night, that my gender isn’t what it should be, that I am read as not quite woman despite my slim, tall elegance, that my sexiness shines through irrespective, that nicotine makes my stockinged legs tingle, and that a hand placed atop my thigh brings me undone.
Just sayin’
Jane
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Well done Emma.
From me two things that are worth the money.
1. When you first decide to go out employ a make-up artist. Visiting a salon is fun and beauticians are always willing to stay back for you, and then help you throw on your frock and set you off into the night. Most importantly, watch and learn so you become expert in doing your own makeup. It makes such a huge difference. Beauticians do out-calls as well. And there are so many listed on the internet these days.
2. Get a dressmaker. No matter how good you think a frock looks off the rack, it will never ever be as good as one made for your precise measurements. There are so many dressmakers out there who are not expensive and they all have a sense of fun. They get what we are about. So, as with makeup, the fittings and consultations are so much fun. My dressmaker has my measurements and a patterns meaning I can buy cloth when it suits me, mail it to her and pick up a gorgeous new frock a few weeks later at a fraction of the price I would pay “off the rack”.Jane xx
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My only concern is a growing level of happiness, indeed the surge of joy, that comes from being dressed. I want more. I love the planning, the preparation, the long, slow mastery of make-up, the sheer thrill of being so gorgeous in front of the mirror, the rush of adrenaline as I venture into the night, the taxi driver’s advances, the compliments, the flattery, the bubbles, a smoke, the hours that go too fast, a hand stroking my taut thighs in the darkness of the bar, touched tongues, the decision whether to go to my bed alone…
How can this not be happiness?
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What a lovely thread.
For me there are two things. One is that I love the act of becoming (sexy) feminine. So the two or more hours I spend becoming Jane — putting aside the joys of thinking about it for days in advance — are as wonderful as the moment I stand gorgeous in front of the mirror. Getting ready is never a chore.
Then there is the joy of being a sexy woman, and here other woman are my allies, not yardsticks to be judged against or bettered. I love the intimacy that comes with their feeling the fabric of my dress, and my bony hips, and praising them both. And I love their fun in steering me towards the man that we’ve chosen as my prey.
Enough. I love this too much. xx
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“I have grown to love secrecy,” said Oscar Wilde in the Picture of Dorian Gray.
I love it too, says Jane.
I understand the act of disclosure and admire those who choose to be honest to themselves and the world. But then there is the exquisite pleasure that comes with risk, those last moments when you are gorgeous in your hotel room and about to head out, on another adventure when the night cannot be predicted, however much you have planned. Over and over again the beautiful rush is there, just before you head out on another secret night. Sure, watch for the bus. But it comes for everyone, not just the wicked.
xx
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I always go to Wig Affair in Pitt Street Sydney. You pay more than on-line sure. But you get twice the value. And so you look twice as good!. xx
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Had two nights out last weekend, wondering about this question. To my delight, sexiness and desire once again trumped gender.
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185 plus heels. 75kgs. Size 10 waist down. Size 14 waist up. Love it. xx
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Men are too huge a category. Stylish men, intelligent men, men in nice cars, men who engage eyes from the other side of a room (especially across the path of their wife or girl friend), men who excuse themselves with a gentle squeeze of your body as they pass by, men who….? What’s not to like?
