[Upfront] The Month
[First] Of Blue Satin Heels...
[Viewpoint] Stone Soup
[A CD Eye for the Arts] Film Noir
[In The News] Scent of a Person
[Last Laugh] Nature or Nuture?

[Upfront]
THE MONTH

Guest writer, Chris Paige, brings us a story of fellowship, insight, growth and acceptance.

Diane Frank is cooking and she serves up thoughtful conversation befitting of Andre.

There's art, humor and more.

Enjoy!

Elaine

[First Person]
OF BLUE SATIN HEELS...

By Chris PAIGE

IT was a Wednesday evening. Gathered in a circle with women from my church in the fourth floor room of a local retirement home. The meeting of the women's spirituality group from my church.

We'd been meeting like this for over a year and built up a trust. Trust for the silences between us, as much as the words we shared. This evening, we were exploring. It all began with the artist reflecting on her other persona -- the flashy lady with the rhinestone sunglasses. And then the other women followed suit.

My always gracious pastor spoke of "bitch" energy. The hospice chaplain talked about wearing red sequin devil horns on her head. And an 80 year old widowed pastor's wife, our host for the evening, recited poetry which spoke of howling with the wolves, with a shout of, "I will sleep with whomsoever I please!"

They were being so transgressive, these heterosexual church women. And it was beautiful. They were exploring areas beyond the boundaries of their normal life. Crossing the boundaries of traditional acceptability and stepping into their shadow -- to play and frolic and laugh a little with the "other" residing there, within themselves.

Many nights before, as I sat in this circle, I was conscious of being different. Wondering if my experiences really fit in. Would they really understand what my life is like, if I were to share the deeper details of my emotions?

I would be self-conscious with these friends. Self-conscious, like when I walk into a public restroom. Wondering if I will startle some unsuspecting woman. The uncomfortable look on the face of a stranger that says, "What are you doing here?"

But, in this circle, I know that such feelings are my own residual discomfort. My own internalized fears about being fully accepted (or not). I know that it is my own apprehension, because I know these women love me for all of me -- sitting with them from week to week.

Yet, this evening, it was not me. This time, it was them. Examining their thoughts and experiences for acceptability. Tentatively offering up images and emotions. This time, it was they who felt unsure as they expressed the "other" within themselves.

I felt affirmed and more self-confident, as they examined the ways that their own actions and imaging made them feel self-conscious. I felt affirmed because this is how I feel every day. Taking risks just to be myself. Unsure of what the reactions will be as others apprehend my gender-identity.

Strangely, since these fantasy conversations were resonating most with my real life experiences, I struggled to join in. It felt hard to identify my own fantasy-persona -- something other than my normal self. I found it hard to identify some other persona that I might need to live into within myself. A playful experiment in other-ness, which would release something in me to joy.

Eventually, I shared about dressing up for a costume ball a few years prior. About wearing a blue dress with puffy sleeves and a bow in back. About the lipstick and hairspray. The pearl necklace and white hose. And about my blue satin heels.

But this only came to mind as I first reflected of the teachings of the queens in my life.

This evening, I talked about my brothers in drag. Men in dresses and make-up and heels. I spoke of the gifts they bring as they challenge the boundaries of acceptable gender identity. About their joyful flamboyance and how this joy challenges me to examine my own self-consciousness and residual shame. They challenge me to be myself. Proudly. Joyfully. Shamelessly.

And somehow, in the process of sharing about my brothers, I started talking about myself in that dress and those heels and the make-up. And I began to remember how fun it was at that costume ball. How I felt energized. And how there was a part of me that, when the night was long past, wanted to share the pictures with everyone. This part of me that was excited and wanted to show her off.

To show off the lady in the blue satin heels. This (usually closeted) alter ego of mine that is fun. And flirtatious. Playful and silly. Frivolous and publicly sexual. She loves to be on display. And gets scared when she isn't the center of attention -- instead of the other way around. She doesn't need to make sense. And she loves to make people laugh.

But there was a part of me that was somehow ashamed to show the pictures of this lady in blue. This part that worried that people might go, "Huh?! You dressed up as a woman for Halloween?" This frightened part of me knew that for me to wear this dress as a "costume" was dangerous and transgressive.

And so I only showed a few trustworthy people. Showing the pictures tentatively with much explanation as to how it came to be. And we would laugh. But I wasn't sure that they understood me -- or if I just looked ridiculous. And so the pictures got put away, on some shelf, in a closet.

But late on this Wednesday evening, these church women laughed with me as I explained. And I knew they understood the joyous contradiction of what "shouldn't" even be a contradiction -- and it was hilarious.

They understood.

They understood that this is my shadow side. Strange as that may be. That this is me and I am content and I can't figure out anymore how I could live any other way.

And because I have found my home in myself in this way. And because these women know and love and are comfortable with the Chris of the baseball cap who is a founding member of the women's group (and don't even think that's so strange). And because they embraced that Chris with me and love me while I live into her in plain view in the center of a community which is at root a Reformed church. Because they do that so comfortably, they can see quite naturally, how strange and contradictory it is for me to prance around in a dress with a "man" on my arm.

And after years of women trying to show me how to wear a dress, it was my brothers who prepared the way and made sense of it. And of course it is different. Because I am not a man in drag. And I am told that I don't act like a gay man in drag, but rather like a straight man acting like a gay man in drag. Which is indeed a few too many identities to keep track of at once! A lesbian woman who (in a dress) seems like a straight man acting like a gay man in drag. "I'm every woman...and every man." Ok, you have to hear that with the music... Chris is strutting like Whitney Houston.

They understood.

Not like some might have -- that I'm some lesbian feminist who really wants to be a man, and she finally discovered her natural womaness in a dress. No.

I am not a man and I do not want to be a man. That is not my identity. And I am not a man trapped in a woman's body. But still when my therapist talks about "the little girl" growing up, I always have to think just a couple seconds too long -- to remember that she is talking about me and not someone else. Because I only know (really know) the little tomboy who was me (and never went away) and the little person I was. And "the little girl" was only someone I occasionally tried to be for other people, but never for myself. So that against-her-will pretend "little girl" wasn't even related the lady in blue who is my shadow.

Thank you my brothers. My sistahs. Flamboyant divas. Drag queens in feather boas. For daring to share with us, all of who you are. And, in the process, for helping me to touch the "other" inside of myself.

The lady in the blue satin heels, who is my shadow.

Excerpted from "Of Blue Satin Heels..." by Chris Paige - © 2001

[Viewpoint]
STONE SOUP

by Diane FRANK

THROW enough ingredients into the kettle of my mind and interesting stews can arise. Our friend Susan (from the fashion show a couple of years ago) taught a class recently on comportment for a Trans-family gathering a few Saturdays ago. I had an interesting "discussion" elsewhere about the term "gender gifted" and that moved me on the idea of "female brains". These things matter most to people who aren’t totally in the closet, who have public lives of some sort. But that is where I live, so that is what I write about.

I’ve always been bothered by the term gender-gifted and it turns out that Helen Boyd who wrote "My Husband Betty" is bothered by it too. Helen focuses on the problems associated with the varieties of transness. I’m bothered by it because it’s another example of sailing under false colors, as if our own weren’t good enough. There is a common cultural context for the notion of gifted: it means to have significantly above average talent or ability. The intent of the term "gender gifted" is to create a positive interpretation about people whose behavior or identity crosses conventional gender boundaries. It combines the notion that it’s not our fault as it’s the hand that we were dealt and the idea that it really means we have a few aces up our chiffon sleeves.

But where in this is there talent or ability? Or are we confusing talent and ability with desire? I deeply desire to dance. I don’t have the talent or ability to do so professionally, never mind reach the category of performance that would make someone call me a "gifted" dancer. Desire causes me to extend myself for the pleasures it brings to my aging body. How does one demonstrate a gift or talent for living outside of conventional gender assignments? How do we distinguish the desire to live outside those boundaries, (which I confess I have and do) with the talent and ability to do so, and beyond that extraordinary talent or ability to do so?

Which gets me back to our friend Susan, who gave a talk on comportment. Comportment, how you look at something stuck on the bottom of your shoe, inspect your nails and so forth. Girls and boys do these things differently. I suspect that "gender gifted" people, if they exist don’t need such coaching. They absorb their gender differences directly from the world around them, no coaching needed. I don’t mean that gender isn’t taught and coached for most assuredly it is. I mean that just as Yentl contrived to hear lessons on Torah, such a person would hear and absorb lessons not directed at him or her. Our society abounds with those lessons. I don’t mean trivial things like makeup, hair styling and wearing a bra. I don’t mean how to walk down a catwalk or give air-kisses. I mean how you are supposed to look at the world, who you turn to for friendship, how you treat friends (and rivals), what you want out of life.

I suppose we could argue that the desire to cross gender boundaries, to not conform to them is in itself a gift. I can say without qualm that, no I wouldn’t take a little pill to change things, and as I’ve written over and over again about my life, I’ve found good things that I wouldn’t have found otherwise. I’m fortunate that I saw no choice but to inform my partner of 29 years when our dating became serious a few days after our first date. (I’d call it displaying wisdom and courage if I were talking about someone else...but modesty forbids me here.) I’m fortunate that we’ve a dynamic that works for us, a closet door that’s fairly open and so on. I’m glad I have friendships where people knowingly accept me as something approximating a woman and move on from there. I’m lucky to have this newsletter and website as a place where I can publicly express my thinking on this in the hopes that it will help other people dealing with similar issues. But calling my desire and its fruits a gift? I don’t think so. It’s true that I have some closet issues about dancing, but those are more me than anything else. I don’t have to think twice playing keyboards. I do have to think twice about this.

And as long as I’m talking about thinking, how about this ‘female brain’ business? There was a study of cadaver brains a while back in Holland where they found that a little teeny, tiny group of cells in the brains of transsexuals was small like the same nucleus in women’s brains. People have leaped at this to say, "I must have a female brain". What people fail to mention or note is that there are lots of sex linked brain structures, LARGE sex-linked brain structures. You don’t need to hunt for a tiny cluster of cells buried deep in the brain to distinguish male and female brains. A neurologist can tell male and female brains apart by inspection. The significance of the nucleus is that it’s in a part of the brain related to sexual behavior in animals, and therefore presumably humans. Supposing that it’s true, that this little nucleus is responsible for our sense of gender identity (if we even think about it at all?). Skeptics are going to argue that the whole rest of the brain is still male. All the big stuff, along with the rest of the body. They’re going to argue that we should focus on dealing with this little out of order group of cells because even after all the hormones and surgery, the rest of the brain is still structured male. Which gets me back to the top of this article.

When we talk about "giftedness or female brains”, we’re trying to buy acceptance from people in spite of their reactions to us. I think those are weak, and as I’ve illustrated above futile arguments. The best argument is performance; it’s who you are and how you relate to other people. Which curiously enough was Susan’s main point in her talk about comportment. Being real with people. It doesn’t matter so much how you inspect your nails or look at something stuck to the bottom of your shoe...even if those things are fun to know and play with...it’s simply coming across as yourself. It means being yourself and not looking for labels to tell you what you should be or do. Above all, it means being a good person. So be good. And don’t worry about gifts or brains.

FILM NOIR

By Elaine SUEDE

THE December 2005 issue of LFS introduced you to some snapshots taken at Casa Susanna, a house near Hunter, New York where in the late 50's and early 60's, men would congregate for the weekend to dress in women's clothing.

Turns out that professional photographer, Walter Rutter, also made a mid-60’s pilgrimage to this Catskill haven, not to dress, but to document this magical happening. Rutter brought the skill and finesse of his successful fashion work to capture the charm and individuality of these willing subjects.

What follows is a selection of images from Walter’s Fall 2003 exhibition held at the Laurence Miller Gallery in New York City.

Walter Rutter: The Girls of Casa Susanna

(click on any image for a larger view)

Click here: [www.laurencemillergallery.com] to view the exhibition of Walter's work. Some images are available for purchase.

[In The News]

Elaine - The February 2006 issue of LFS invited you to contemplate a world of non-gendered fashion. [Feb 2006] Now comes word that non-gendered fragrances are closer than you might imagine.

SCENT OF A PERSON

By RUTH LA FERLA
March 23, 2006

WHEN it comes to fragrance, Trevor Mitchell is an equal opportunity sampler. Mr. Mitchell, a professional tenor, is not averse to a spritz of citrus or musk now and then. But neither is he shy or furtive about misting himself with essence of jasmine or tuberose.

Not everyone shares his evenhanded approach. Mr. Mitchell is an ardent fan of an effusive rose scent by Creed called Fleurs de Bulgarie. The first time he bought it, he recalled, "the people at the fragrance counter just assumed I was buying it for someone else."

He chafes at such typecasting. "I decided a long time ago I would buy and wear what I like to smell," he said. "It has nothing to do with gender, sexuality or any of that."

Mr. Mitchell is a member of a small but influential (and sometimes persnickety) clan, fragrance lovers — youthful, sophisticated, affluent and, increasingly, male — who thumb a nose at artificial gender distinctions. They are men bored by the industry's conventional interpretation of manhood as a blast of lime, leather or musk. They are women who prowl men's fragrance counters when shopping for a scent, heading without bias where their noses lead them. Increasingly they gravitate to scents and brands that are blended, positioned and marketed without regard to sex.

"We're finding that when it comes to fragrance, old sensibilities and tastes are breaking down," said Lucy Perdomo-Ruehlemann, the vice president for global marketing for Jo Malone, the British fragrance house. Today industry insiders recognize that to more and more customers, buying fragrance by gender is a notion as quaint as gaiters.

To embrace those consumers, Jo Malone, and houses like Fresh, Creed and Bond No. 9, are simply sidestepping the issue of sex altogether, letting the customer decide what is appropriate. A few of these brands are claiming their own store real estate, a neutral environment set apart from the men's or women's fragrance counters.

They also avoid being typecast by offering neutral packaging: bottles and labels that look as though they might contain premium vodkas. Neither stereotypically masculine nor feminine, their notes are unexpected, often sharp or crisp and darkly sensuous at the same time, as in a blend of mandarin spiked with nutmeg and softened with vanilla or musk.

Gender-neutral fragrances appeal to Austin Cohen, a real estate investor in his 20's who likes to douse himself with Bleecker Street from Bond No. 9. "Basically my rule is don't wear something you'll smell on a lot of people," Mr. Cohen said.

Bleecker Street may have a conventionally feminine aura, redolent of violet leaf, jasmine and vanilla, but it passes his sniff test as a preferable alternative to sprays mass-marketed to young men. "I don't want to show up at the party in Drakkar or Obsession, something that I wore in puberty," he said.

For similar reasons Elizabeth Lawton has backed away from pronouncedly feminine scents, heady floral or powdery notes, which she regards as dated.

"I love to wear something quite natural with a citrus base," said Ms. Lawton, 27, a writer. "Men love it. It's not cloying, and it doesn't remind them of their Great Aunt Lily or marzipan."

Perfumers are betting that even the most tradition minded shoppers will not be put off by scents with neutral-sounding names like Jo Malone Lime Basil Mandarin or Pomegranate Noir, the fragrance world equivalent of Chris or Leslie. They appeal pretty much to both sexes, Ms. Perdomo-Ruehlemann said. So do L'Eau d'Hiver, Musc Ravageur and Bigarade (made by Éditions Frédéric Malle); Silver Mountain Water and Impériale Millésime (Creed); Premier Figuier and Thé Pour un Été (L'Artisan Parfumeur); and L'Eau d'Orange Verte (Hermès).

Bleecker Street, Wall Street and Little Italy, gender-free offerings from Bond No. 9, also appeal to all, said Laurice Rahmé, the impresario behind them, and account for about 50 percent of its sales. Ms. Rahmé argues that to her customers, separating perfumes by sex makes no more sense than doing so with food or wine. "Those pleasures, too, are genderless," she said.

The most daring consumers are dabbling in scents that appear to be aimed at the opposite sex. Pink Jasmine by Fresh, for instance, has as many male as female devotees, said Lev Glazman, a founder of the house, as does its Cannabis Santal, never mind its faint whiff of men's sweat.

Despite their growing popularity, few gender-neutral fragrances are poised to compete with olfactory blockbusters like Chanel No. 5 or Pleasures by Estée Lauder. Most are classed in the niche category, sold in only a few hundred stores, compared with thousands of stores for mainstream brands.

Specific sales figures are not available, but niche cosmetics and fragrances, including nongender brands, account for more than 20 percent of the department store beauty business, said Karen Grant, the senior beauty analyst for NPD Beauty, which tracks fragrance and cosmetics sales.

These fragrances are distinct, in marketing terms if not necessarily in composition, from "unisex" scents, which last made a splash in the late 90's. The difference is chiefly one of classification: unisex scents are specifically promoted as such.

"We haven't seen any major launches calling themselves unisex fragrances," Ms. Grant said. "But we have seen niche trends lead to innovations." Gender-free niche fragrances "are definitely climbing in the rankings," she said.

The problem with scents classed as unisex, Ms. Grant said, is that stores are not sure where to place them. Only the more progressive merchants are willing to "double expose" fragrances: that is, sell them at women's fragrance counters and on the men's floor as well.

"We don't focus on shared fragrances," said Bettina O'Neill, the manager of cosmetics for Barneys New York. "But we know from what people are wearing that they don't care, 'Is this a man's scent or a woman's scent?' It's more about, 'Is this unique?' " At Barneys, scents like Musc Ravageur or Route du Thé, a private label, are hits with both women and men, she said.

A few adventurous fragrance houses have reintroduced the concept of "unisex," a word last bandied about in 1994 with the introduction of CK One, the wildly successful blend of bergamot, papaya, rose, nutmeg and musk from Calvin Klein. These include Gaultier Puissance Deux (Gaultier to the Power of Two) and Creed's Santal, both of which owe a debt to CK One.

CK One, which faded in popularity for several years, is being rediscovered by younger people who like its subtlety.

"The younger generation uses fragrance in a different way," said Jenny B. Fine, the editor of the trade publication Beauty Biz. "They like scents that aren't obtrusive, that give off an aura more than an odor."

Unisex or "shared" or "universal" scents, as some companies now prefer to call them, predate CK One, going back at least to the 1960's, when dandelion-garlanded hippies began dousing themselves with patchouli and musk oils redolent of gypsies in the woods, or unwashed socks, depending on who was doing the sniffing.

The new Gaultier fragrance, a blend of amber, musk and vanilla, is intended to complement the unisex fashions Mr. Gaultier introduced on his runway for fall. Packaged in twin flasks joined by magnets, it will be sold at Bloomingdale's and Sephora stores this spring.

"Beyond gender distinction, beyond masculine or feminine ... simply human," as it is described in the press release, the Gaultier "will appeal to the young and hip," predicted Louis Desazars, the president of Beauté Prestige International, its maker.

It is as likely to be seductive to others who have simply grown bored with conventional fragrance marketing, said Emmanuel Saujet, the chief executive of Creed North America, which has consistently declined to designate a gender for its scents.

Today the company plays it both ways, advertising Santal, the latest introduction, with the image of a circle of bottles and a text that reads, "For men and women." The fragrance is aimed not at a man or a woman, but at a shopper eager to stand out from the herd, Mr. Saujet said.

"People want to be more individual, they want to have their own signature," chimed in Mr. Glazman of Fresh. "That's a very big part of this trend."

Fresh made its name with scents not clearly positioned for either sex, steering clear of traditional men's scents, which with their ubiquitous citrus and green notes, all smell alike, he maintained. "They are clean and soapy," he said, "because that's that how society still thinks men should smell."

Not Chris Fenske. A research analyst in a financial company, Mr. Fenske is partial to Creed Impériale Millésime. "My girlfriend used to use it," he said, "but I have no problems with that."

Similarly Mr. Cohen, the real estate investor, finds scents that aggressively trumpet their manliness as stale as a day-old croissant. Those that convey "that old sense of being very dominant, men's locker room old clubhouse kind of thing," he said, "they have kind of passed us by."

[Last Laugh]
NATURE OR NUTURE?

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