Dressed Till Dawn

I have already mentioned how I moved from a country village back in 1998, into a new urban home. Actually, there was nothing new about it. The place was crammed with old furniture that I had to accept, despite preferring a less cluttered feel. I had enough of my own tat, after all!

However, I did not wholly neglect cross-dressing over that difficult winter. An ever-spooky occasion, Halloween, allowed a good excuse for dressing up even when my confidence had dipped. During the daytime, I had no plans to dress up. In fact, I deliberately suppressed the desire, thinking I had things to sort out at home. Walking through town that afternoon, I saw a poster on a pub door. Predictably enough, it was holding a Halloween fancy dress night. Not possibly for me, I thought. I even avoided a cash point so I would have no money and be unable to go.

Later, after dinner, my mood started to change. The dusk of Halloween had fallen and I felt the urge growing. 1998 was one of those great years when Halloween came on a Saturday, the best chance for a good time. At least I had found the pub, somewhere definite to aim for, so what could go wrong? No one knew me there, I could make an appearance and head off if it felt uncomfortable. For all anyone might know, I could be flitting from venue to venue like a vampire bat. An elusive lady of the night!

Time was ticking on. The pub would close at eleven o’clock, due to the licensing hours in those days. If in doubt, I thought, get prepared. One can always back out at the last minute, whereas when preparation is needed – such as with cross-dressing – one cannot suddenly decide to go. So I donned black lacy tights with chunky four-inch heels, a white petticoat and red crushed-velvet dress.

Trying for a ghostly look, I mixed white face-paint with beige foundation to achieve a pasty, but not clownish complexion. Frizzing up my own curly hair behind an Alice band, I added thick eyeliner, blue eye shadow and dark lipstick so I looked like a gothic doll. A black ruffle round my neck was actually a hair scrunchie, while I added some jingly beads. In an extra nod to the occasion, I snipped a pair of vampire teeth from thin plastic. Keeping these handy, I donned a long black coat, black hat and set off.

It was already past nine, and raining steadily. I hid under my umbrella as much as using it for shelter, and took a good half hour to reach the pub – proceeding in chunky heels! In fact, I regretted avoiding the cash point earlier and was forced to make an irritating detour. With money to spend, I finally reached the pub with its enticing Halloween poster. There was only one more thing to do. I slotted in those home-made vampire teeth, then pushed the heavy wooden door open.

This was not just my first Halloween cross-dressed, but the first time I had ever entered a commercial premises in girl-mode, gothic or otherwise. Luckily, I instantly felt at ease amongst the more predictable, spooky outfits. Girls wore cute ghost or witch apparel, with one or two in Victorian style dresses. I must have been the only cross-dresser as the males were mostly zombies! Feeling confident but breaking a barrier, I ordered a drink at the bar.

A couple seemed impressed by my looks. “What are you…?” the man asked.

“A vampire girl,” I said, though in a male voice.

I was not familiar with cross-dressing in a social context, and had only spoken as a girl when addressed on the street. Visually, my preparations had been thorough but the costumed nature of Halloween meant I had not sought a full illusion.

Perhaps I should have done. “You’re a bloke?” asked the man, astonished more by my gender than any vampiric tendencies.

“What did you think I was?” I asked.

“You look like a woman,” he said. “You look lovely.”

Clearly, a woman in fancy dress.

Indeed, my motives were a little muddled. The plastic teeth were no help, sliding all over the place, and I soon discarded them. It was enough to be a gothic girl, not a vampire. Cross-dressing itself was more important to me, with Halloween an excuse for dramatic looks – a kind of double fantasy, first becoming a girl who, in herself, was wearing something extreme. Vampire teeth had been a step too far, a definite costume malfunction!

I sipped my drink happily, knowing I had broken a few boundaries even if not for long. I had only reached the pub around ten, giving me barely an hour there. Still, I spoke with two charming girls with better home-made accessories. One had a sword covered in tin foil, while the other wore a green gothic dress and carried a tin foil cross.

Then the unpredictable happened. A girl was distributing tickets to a nearby party, perhaps to anyone sufficiently scary.

“Be quick,” said the sword-girl. “They’ve almost gone…”

I went over to the girl dishing them out. “There’s only one ticket left,” she said, “so you can’t bring anyone…”

“I’m just on my own,” I said, claiming the last ticket.

The venue was close-by, a block of flats run as a housing co-operative. I followed the two girls there, paying a one-pound donation on the door, and mingled for hours. There was chai, flapjacks, a disco, chill-out room – plus various fleeting conversations.

“I don’t know if it’s just the light,” said one guy, “but you look ravishing!”

At no point did I adopt a ‘female’ voice, so the illusion was only partial. This puzzled another guy. He took a questionable grope while saying, “That’s how you usually tell…”

Had he done this before? Maybe. But he was perturbed to find nothing in the way of a bulge.

“Very tight underwear,” I smirked.

“You’re cute,” said a girl in a Victorian dress, way taller than me, as we shared a nocturnal dance.

While the winter nights were long, they were not endless. Time ticked away faster than expected, and the windows turned pale with approaching dawn. I tried to reclaim my hat from the improvised cloakroom but, alas, it had been mislaid.

Not being an actual vampire, I had no reason to worry about the rising sun. But my bold make-up had been intended for evening eyes and only a few hours of wear. As the dawn came up, it was a race between whether I could move fast enough in my four-inch heels to beat the unforgiving scrutiny of daylight.

No, I would not turn into dust – though my blend of foundation and face-paint was no longer flattering, and impossible to retouch. I had also lost my hat, which would have cast some welcome, concealing shadow. Indeed, those queuing early at a bus stop cast a curious glance as I meekly clip-clopped past. But I reached home safely at seven, had a wash, then slept. Waking, it might all have been a dream – but surely, not a nightmare.

I had no photographs of what had been an improvised, unexpected outing. So I drew a picture to remember my looks, immortalized in coloured pencil. I have recreated the outfit with the same dress and accessories especially for the photo that goes with this piece. Reflecting on the experience, I decided I loved a slightly gothic, medieval style but without the more lurid, grotesque elements. I would not repeat the face-paint mixture again, as strong lips and eyes were bold enough with pale but not white foundation.

Perhaps I should have adopted a feminine voice, creating a whole persona. Next time, I probably would. But Halloween had been a forgiving occasion, where the unusual was allowed for one night only. In stretching that night till dawn, I had surely made the most of it.

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and articles from Crossdresser Heaven.

SUBSCRIBE!

You have Successfully Subscribed!

We hate spam too, unsubscribe at any time.