Fashionably Framed

Taking photographs of yourself while cross-dressed takes a certain amount of nerve. These pictures are evidence of the activity even after you have returned to male mode. This evidence is fine as long as the photographs are kept secret. If these pictures are shared, they become a public record of crossdressing. Photography can be a good way of ‘coming out’ – it allows us to show a family member or friend a depiction of our “other selves” without presenting her in person.

Taking good photographs are challenging at the best of times. Presenting our best looks can be difficult even when not dressed . But if the urge is there to show our girly selves off, we will find a way.

Most cameras have a self-timer, which ticks down until the shutter clicks. This gives around four to ten seconds to ‘transition’ from photographer to model, adopting a swift pose. This can be a fun, and highly addictive, way of obtaining images. Left to one’s own devices, hours can be spent changing clothes for varied pictures, making the best of what might be a rare and stealthy session.

Years ago, in the early 1990s, I never dared photograph myself cross-dressed. My feminine self, who I now refer to as ‘Polly’, was at the time a nameless and ephemeral being. She only existed in the moment, seen by myself in a mirror or by others on an occasional night-time stroll. I had accepted my cross-dressing, was not ashamed of it, but felt unwilling to document it just yet.

However, as I embraced my girly side in the mid to late-1990s, a parallel interest in trans-photography was equally difficult to resist. My attraction to trans-photography has ebbed and flowed over the years, much like my interest in crossdressing. After all, if cross-dressing is more of an activity than a lifestyle, photographs are both an archive of one’s activity and an achievement in themselves.

In 1996, my first trans-pictures were taken on film and, subsequently, needed to be processed. Since I did not want these pictures mixed with unrelated strips of negatives, I felt the best way option would be to shoot a whole roll of film dedicated to my dressing. If the results were awful, the whole lot could be junked without any real loss.

I waited for springtime sunlight to fill my home, then posed by windows using a self-timer. There was also a shared garden, which was a riskier prospect. But I donned a cute outfit – a summery floral dress with white tights and pink shoes – then threw a blanket on the grass and snapped myself relaxing.

The images displayed two undesired truths. Not only was I a male, I was hardly relaxing. Seconds later, terrified at the thought of discovery, I was folding the tripod and dashing upstairs.

Having taken thirty-six shots, I had to have them developed. What would happen when I collected the pictures? Would a lab technician giggle, would sirens go off and a klaxon yell, “Tranny alert!”

Excessively cautious, I sent the film to a postal lab at the far end of the country. Whatever they thought, I wouldn’t know! A week later, the pictures came back. No trouble, they had passed muster. Any good ones?

Tentatively, I peeled open the envelope. Not too bad I thought. There were a few bad poses or poorly framed efforts, but also some rather charming images. The garden photo was the best, even if I was a bit too far from the camera. It was odd to behold the pictures as a male, seeing myself as a girl after the event for the very first time. And of course, the photos would last. There would always be a version of my girl-self as long as they existed, whether I cross-dressed again or not.

Later, I bought a compact camera with flash that was great for more casual images. As I came out as a cross-dresser, I would have it available for party snaps when it was handed to some stranger. Unfortunately, these shots were often badly framed by eager but less than proficient helpers. I often wished I could be both the photographer and model, able to see how I looked through the viewfinder.

One good trick is the mirror image, something fairly easy to frame. One can shoot oneself clearly taking the photograph, or move the camera carefully away from one’s eye while retaining the composition. Pictures snapped in mirrors or shiny shop windows have a special magic, putting the viewer in the head of the trans-photographer. We can see the subject as if gazing back at ourselves, becoming both the subject and the viewer.

I still love using film, but digital imagery has massively enhanced trans-photographic possibilities. While one cannot be in two places at once ( photographer and subject) – digital photography offers the ability to take many pictures and chose the favorites.

Seeing the photos of other cross-dressers has encouraged me to expand background options, sometimes in corners of my home or against drapes to give a more neutral background. Pictures can also be cropped and collaged in a creative way, and I have learned far more about photo editing while taking such images than any other kind. They have also been a comfort when I have been unable to cross-dress, but wished to visit my alternative self. She will always be there if I cannot be her, fashionably framed, preserved in pixels or photographic grain.

More Articles by Polly Jocelyn

• Pretty Moving
• A Bargain Tale
• Dressing Up, Girlish

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