Can clothing Really be that Important?

I grew up one of twin boys, non identical to be sure, but enough alike that my mother dressed us in the same clothes until age 5.  I personally did not care about clothes at all except for noticing some of the cashmere sweaters my mother wore. Probably for that reason (it felt so heavenly soft on our cheeks when she held us to her chest) I developed my collection of favorite sweaters--navy, green, red, light blue, white, striped, orange and brown. I wanted a pink one like my mother's but that was not to be.

   Boys clothes just covered nakedness. There was absolutely no secondary gain to be achieved. That's where girls get it so much righter. They create splashes and splatters of colors and textures and accessories everywhere. The differences and distinctions are critical to status, and being, and self satisfaction. A few rebellious teen males and rock groups get this, but by and large the mass of men have not. Muddy shoes, dirty t-shirts, torn jeans do anonymously fine. I went through both grade school and highschool without questioning these norms. 

It wasn't till college, where I was very alone, had a little money to spend, with ready access to stores, that my quest for self at least asserted that I am someone who loves sweaters , the more exotic, (and the more feminine) the better. I would spend weeks planning a buy, imagining at night in the upper bunk of a dorm bed, how it would look and feel on me. And, yes, I would usually masturbate, as quietly as one could in such circumstances. As soon as one sweater was caught and added to the sweater drawer, the quest was on for the next sweater. Nothing brought me more to life in college than this little ritual.

After college I worked in the community as a youth program director for a while before going pre-med for 2 years and finally getting into Penn Medical  school . School had me so busy I didn't think of much other than the curriculum for most of the time. There was neither enough time or interest to ever go dating. My standard outfit was just khakis and a polo shirt. My goal was NOT to stand out.

Much time and many marriages later my third wife took an interest in how I looked. She was especially interested in sweaters, and thus began a quality new collection that soon became as exciting as in my college years. This marriage too, alas, wasn't going anywhere, but when I left I had both a great sweater collection and a sexual identity disorder.  Having failed dramatically at 3 separate marriages, I considered myself a failure as a man, at least as a hetero-man.

As described in another essay below, I turned out not to be a great success as a gay guy, although it was a step better than what I had known. The most important thing I learned from Michael is that what I wear is very important to ME, that sweaters expressed me best when I thought of myself a man, but that I was both open to and in fact desperately wanted alternative ways of dressing--like a woman. I remember my first 'crossing the line' purchase for myself was the decision over Thanksgiving 2010 to use my iPhone to order a gray-green knit large-collared sweater dress from Old Navy costing $36. It was an immediate and fantastic hit. Next I got myself some tights to go with it. My new sleeping uniform became my sweater dress and tights. Oh, I loved the total body sensation from the clothes extending toes to neckline. I felt more peaceful and secure going to sleep. I felt more magical and alive waking up as a woman. I was always sad to take them off for plain old chinos and polos for work over the next few years.

This first plain but elegantly soft sweater dress was soon joined by more expensive red one and a jeweled red plum dress. I felt like a Queen--the way I wanted to feel. The depth of the sensation for me even prompted me to some crude poetry--the new language of my feminizing life.

Now, as I dress, I d so not for any erotic pleasure, but just to celebrate a right way of feeling. I had no inkling that I might be transgender until age 63, and it was the clothes--my sweaters, tights, dresses, and yes, ultimately panties that found me and led the way. Clothes can make the man, and clothes made this man into a woman.