“You OK Tilly?” Izzy asked as we approached, looking me up and down. I smiled and nodded. “You do look cool.” she said before sucking on her cigarette then handing it to me.
“Thanks.” I shyly replied, glancing down at my knee high boots, fishnet tights and short leather skirt. “Is this a joint?” I asked, noticing it wasn’t a normal cigarette. She nodded and exhaled. I took a couple of tokes and handed it to Cat. She asked if I’ve smoked pot before and I nodded.
“Cool.” Cat said, drawing on it herself and handing it to Terrie.
“Nah.” Terrie said. “Driving.” she added. We passed it around the three of us then chucked the roach into the bushes. “Shall we get going?”
We climbed back in the car and I shuffled in my seat. “These things aren’t exactly convenient.” I commented as I pulled my skirt down over my lap.
“No but it looks good.” Izzy said. “…and you wear it well.” she added.
“Really?” I quizzed. She said she’d noticed how I’ve sat with my knees together for the entire journey so far and said she’d expected to have to keep reminding me not to sit like a guy. “Well it is pretty short… short enough to remind me that I’m not dressed like a guy.” I replied, before asking if my tights were supposed to provide warmth of just supposed to look good.
“They provide a bit of warmth, much like a string vest.” she told me. “Do they feel OK?” she asked.
“Yeah I guess.” I said, running my fingers over my lap. “But I’ve never worn normal tights so what do I know?” I added.
“Do you think you’ll dress up as a girl again Matt?” Terrie asked as she reversed out of the parking space.
“He’ll have to tomorrow because his own clothes are at your house.” my sister quickly retorted.
“Err… I don’t know.” I said. “I can’t see there being another reason to.” I mused.
“You’re enjoying it though?”
“I think I’m still in a state of shock.” I dryly replied.
“I’m glad you went for it.” my sister said. “…and you totally pass as a girl.” she claimed.
“I better.” I grimaced.
“You know you do.” Cat told me. “No one batted an eyelid when we went to the loo.”
“Yeah I guess.” I replied.
Izzy began rummaging in her handbag. I watched as she placed various items of cosmetics on her lap and began to apply her make-up. I was fascinated at how adeptly she applied it… in a moving car!
“Does it take years to learn how to do that?” I asked.
“Yeah I guess.” she replied. “I’ll teach you if you like.” she suggested.
“Errr…. I’m not really planning on making this a regular thing.” I said.
“Loads of guys wear eye-liner.”
“Guy-liner!” Terrie said. “Man-scara too.” she added.
“…and concealer.” Izzy claimed. “In fact, pretty much every guy you see on TV will be wearing make-up, from pop stars to news readers… they say it’s because of the studio lighting but it’s really so they look their best.” she said.
“I think more guys should wear make-up.” Cat claimed.
“You think guys should wear dresses and lingerie though.” Terrie said.
“They should… and not just when they’re trying to pass as a girl.” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Jean-Paul Gautier says that the only item of clothing that’s made specifically for a woman is a bra… everything else can be worn by either sex.” she stated. I wasn’t so sure, but Cat went into lecture mode. High heels, she claimed were first made for men. When on horse back, the heels enabled them to stand in their stirrups and fire a bow & arrow more accurately. After that, Louis XIV popularised heels, and make-up, and wigs… she claimed. The skirt was a male garment and its feminine equivalent was called a petticoat. Knickerbockers were worn by boys and girl’s knickers were modelled on them, although they resembled big bloomers back then… and in Victorian times, it wasn’t uncommon for boys to wear dresses as their Sunday best. My sister disputed some of Cat’s claims and Cat got out her smart phone, googled a page and showed her a picture of some Victorian school rules which clearly stated ‘if boys wear frocks on Sundays, they must be clean‘.
“Well you learn something new every day.” my sister said. “Imagine that.” she said to me.
I grimaced and bit my lip. “I suppose it must have been quite normal back then.” I said. I took a sip from my coffee and just like the cigarette I’d smoked, there’s a dark red imprint on the rim of the cardboard cup and its plastic lid. “I guess I’d best top up my lipstick when I’ve finished this.”
“You will.” my sister smiled. She routed ‘my’ lipstick from her bag and handed it to me. “Keep it in your pocket.” she said.
“Thanks.” I bashfully replied. “These pockets are tiny.” I commented as I pushed it into one of the small front pockets.
“Big enough for your lippy.” Izzy smiled.
