Drove into Houston en femme--thrifted black long-sleeved blouse & knee-length pencil skirt; silver sandals with 2" heels; Aldo Firestone (silver-tone leather) purse; shaved legs, handlebar mustache, natural unisex hair, sunglasses, thin steel necklace, no make-up. Submitted 3 photographs to the Big Show at the Lawndale Gallery (wish me luck). Good crowd--several staffers, & various aspiring artists. No one batted an eye or commented.
Stopped for lunch at the Empire Cafe on Westheimer--my usual choice en femme. Counter girl admired my wallet--made of airmail envelope paper. Sat inside--it's hot in Houston. Then decided I had just enough time for coffee, so ordered & took it out to the patio. As I came out the door, a man stood up and walked toward me--a friend & former colleague. We'd worked together on various projects over the course of several years before I retired. I turned to my left--deadpan, not flashing a recognition signal--and found a seat with my back to him. Drank the coffee and thought about damage control. Of course he must have recognized me. Only a momentary glance, but the mustache is unusual, and he knows me. Time to go, decided to bite the bullet and say hello on the way out. Thought of sitting down en femme, but chickened out, and went to the car with my calmest "old-lady-in-heels" strut to get my change of clothes. I had to change then anyway, before the next appointment. Got the clothes, changed in the stall in the men's room. Coming out he was there at the urinal, so I washed my hands & said hello. I said, "That masquerade is a secret, but you can tell anyone I don't know". (My therapist told me that everyone must tell a secret once.) He said,"You're an artist! At first I thought it was you, but then thought i must have made a mistake." We had a nice chat, turns out it's also his favorite restaurant--great for a quiet mind-clearing detour if he's out of the office in the middle of the day.
Crazy world, but full of nice people.