ADVENTURES OF ILENE. A Night At The Symphony.
The Wife, bless her heart, was traveling for the weekend and unable to attend. She knew I was going dressed up, and I apparently went with her blessing. She didn't like the idea of me going out dressed up, but she helped comb my wig and checked my concert clothes the evening before she departed. [I’ll catch up with her next weekend.]
I dropped her off at the airport and devoted the day in preparation. I painted my nails and did a thorough close shave; and got dressed in Ilene casual.
I had an ULTA appointment that almost went bad quickly. There are 2 stores within 10 miles in the same town. I went to the WRONG ULTA store, much to my embarrassment. The store clerks were such darlings to call the other store to verify my appointment. Even though 15 minutes late I still made the appointment with my brow technician.
My natural eyebrows are a forest; a white forest. Even for my Guy Mode the wife always told me to do something with that mess. This was my first eyebrow treatment.
Myranda, my technician, did a waxing of my brows and cut them down to manageable size. She was great to work with; a young woman of her late 20s. I gave her a near-impossible puzzle to solve. Tame and style my wild brows, keeping in mind that I am a slowly transitioning [crossdressing] woman who still lives half her life in male mode. I couldn’t have the brows TOO feminized; not at this time. But I wanted them looking good enough, and convertible to femme mode.
Myranda knew her stuff and gave me precisely what I requested.
I had a professional makeup application immediately following the brow grooming. I very much enjoyed working with Linda, my artist. She was a more mature lady of late 30-ish; well made up as were all the ULTA staff. Linda was very respectful of my transgender status. I told her that I needed make up for a special or formal event, but not garishly done. I did not want a drag queen look.
Linda made some suggestions on changing colors, particularly lipstick and foundation. I let her proceed according to her professional expertise. Linda did a smart, professional job. The only ‘disappointment’ I felt during the experience as a pushiness to sell me product. I didn’t need it, but it was the first time following a make over I felt pressed to buy something. That said, I loved her work and I ran home to dress.
LInda the MakeUp Artist -FC.jpeg Mirror Selfie in Black Symphony outfit-FC.jpeg
I decided upon my red burgundy long skirt and a black silk turtleneck for the evening. I wore my new 2 inch black pumps (which hurt my feet as new shoes, but I still love them.)
I barely made first call and dimming of the house lights due to heavy traffic into downtown. The woman of a couple who were approximately my age (65) sat a seat away, the only other people in our short row. Joann introduced herself, and I as well. She related that they lived locally and were big Beethoven fans. They attended the earlier fall concert and were eager to hear Beethoven again. She was quite kind, though I know she “made” me from the start despite my good makeup work.
Boettcher Hall Lobby for Beethoven-FC.jpeg Outside Boettcher Concert Hall -FC.jpeg
After the first overture played, a college aged woman came to sit next to me. Her father worked as one of the backstage technicians. She attended free of charge. She was also quite amicable and wanted to talk when the music stood down. At no time did she ever bat an eye at the large person who “looked like a woman and talked like a man.” Not a sly amused grin ever appeared on her face. See didn't see a "joke" next to her. So polite and engaging.
The music was fantastic, of course. Love the romantic composers. The symphony played one overture, a piano concerto, and the entire Symphony No. 4.
Now for practical business. When the last notes of the first set were hanging in the air, I dashed for the lady’s room. A bottle of water, a couple pre-concert wines in the lobby, and the learned politeness of concert protocol had me in an urgent situation.
The one thing I do not appreciate about my MtF conversion is having to wrestle off layers of shape wear, pantyhose, forms, (etc.)., for the simple act of urination. I thank the Lord that women’s restrooms are built around private stalls. When I was done, I washed hands and slowly worked my way out of the restroom past the thick line of waiting GG’s. No one gave me an evil eye or gasped, so I consider the mission a success.
The concert finished. I enjoyed my walk in the cool night air and back to my vehicle. My intention was to go to the Denver Hamburger Mary’s. I’d never been there. The traffic out of the city again was so horrible, I spent almost an hour just getting clear of the jam. At that point I just went home to savor a great evening out en femme.
Live and let dress.
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