A reader asks our agony uncle whether he’s normal for wanting to dress up in women’s clothing when he has sex.
Dear Uncle
I’m a man who likes the idea of dressing up in women’s clothes during sex. I’m not trans and I’m happy with my body, but the idea of wearing feminine clothes whilst having sex with another guy a turn on. Do you have any advice on cross-dressing for fun? Is it normal?
Mike, 28
Dear Mike,
The question isn’t really whether it’s normal – if it’s what you want to do and you’re with someone else who’s digging it then who gives a flying monkey if it’s “normal”?
There are plenty of guys out there who want to crossdress and there’s also plenty of guys out there who are into that as well – you’re not alone.
Get an online profile
First off set up a profile on your hook up app/website of choice setting out your preferences and the parameters of what you’re looking for. Are you just looking for NSA sex or are you wanting a relationship?
Are you looking for guys to only see you in your feminine attire or do you want people to know you as a whole?
Maybe add a photo and some details about what you’re looking for and offering.
I would say that it’s best to let people know what you’re into first rather than spring it on them after a number of dates.
Just like any pre-meet chat, it’s pretty typical and good to be kept informed on what they want and expect and, of course, visa versa. Dropping into the conversation that you want to try cross-dressing will mean that others can decide whether they’re into it as well, that way they’ll be no crossed wires.
Another suggestion is the dating site https://tvchix.com/ , which welcomes, “all TV’s, CD’s, TG’s, admirers, their partners and friends”
Real-world experience
You could also check your local gay sauna to see if they have any cross-dressing or trans / CD nights where you can dress up however you want. Some venues offer this service so it’s worth checking them out.
And then, of course, you could also seek the services of a professional. Sir Dave, one of the UK’s foremost Fetish specialists told us, “Over the years I have had many clients with an interest in cross-dressing visit me. Many have never dressed in front of anyone before and it is so important to me that they feel comfortable and respected and given a safe space in which to explore their interests and fetishes. Cross-dressing is done for so many different reasons, some times just to explore the feeling.
“Whatever their reason for it, I provide a safe, discreet space for them to enjoy and build their confidence.”
Rip the knickers off London and you’ll find gender-fluid gold, not dreary X-Factor clones! See, London’s not just a place, it’s an idea, inspiration, and way of life! Oh, and not just tedious, straight-living breeder lives – London, my dears, is arguably the world capital of killer diversity! Quite simply, it’s a city throbbing with a unique pulse found nowhere else, and London, unarguably, epitomises the German word
zeitgeist, the spirit of the times. And guess what? Right here, right now, we’re blessed with the pansexual Hostess with the Mostess, San-Franciscan uber-diva Holly Penfield!
Quintessentially American, so naturally extrovert and gregarious – think Katherine Ryan on crystal meth – Holly’s a living lifestyle transplant, importing San Franciscan exuberance in gorgeously digestible chunks for famished Brits!
Never scoped Holly on your Gaydar feeds? My God, you will! Scene queens, of course, will remember Holly’s awesome, kitsch-bitch residencies at the infamous Shadow Lounge and the Savoy Hotel, Oscar Wilde’s favourite, f*ck-buddy pad with twink partner Bosie!
If marginally older than Gaga, but easily predating and exceeding her in pumping charisma, song-writing chops and artistic extravagance, Holly must be seen to be believed. Working audiences with the assured, erotic prowl of a five-star cougar firing on every cylinder, she’s stunningly reclaimed her fabulous forties as an avant-garde hunting-ground for her restless, ever expanding muse.
If normally known to fans as a jazz and show-tune diva, French-kissing the ghost of her idol Judy Garland with a swooning, soothing breathiness that instantly sparks mass, spontaneous orgasms in the audience, the real Holly’s far more exotic, as radical in her image overhauls as Bowie himself.
And – make no mistake – Holly’s kaleidoscopic changes have been noted by the great and the good, from Shirley Bassey and Tom Jones to the haughty Simon Cowell himself, who famously described her as ‘a cross between Bowie and Minelli.’
He’s not wrong. This time around, Holly’s pressed the eject on her previous selves, and re-embraced the ferocious, challenging and musically precocious rock ‘n’ roll singer she started as. Imagine a furious mash-up of Billie Eilish and Lilly Allen and you’ll be half-way there, but new material – jaw-droppingly showcased in her new, Tree Woman – has a growl, grit and passionate ache of raw experience only Holly’s lifetime of exotic excess can give.
Shrewdly – and fittingly – Holly’s chosen to unleash her devastating lyricism on March 8th, International Women’s Day, highlighting not only her adoration of her own sex but also –like Marlene Dietrich – all the thrilling, sensual possibilities beyond outdated gender limits.
Which, naturally, brings us to another crucial aspect of Holly’s nuclear stage charisma; physicality. Sure, there’s an old opera queen cliché that ‘the show’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings”, and while that’s fine for opera, where it’s outstanding vocal technique that counts, rock ‘n’ roll lives and dies by gob-smacking visuals!
Just think; where would Prince, Jagger, and Bowie have been without iconic looks that instantly seared their brand into the collective consciousness? And it’s a no-brainer that to move, entice, seduce and beguile on stage, guys and girls must be super-fit and shockingly ripped.
No problems there for Holly. Toned tighter than an Olympic gymnast, she uncoils herself on stage like a hyperactive whirling dervish, the watching eyes of the audience instantly super-glued to her contagious exuberance. Better yet – even in a set as short as an hour – she executes bravura costume changes as startling as a Surrealist Hall of Mirrors.
There’s full-bodied skeleton suits, self-made hats crowned with stuffed owls that Alexander McQueen would double-take at, and random collisions of mediaeval chain-mail and boho chic Kate Moss would kill for!
Then there are the songs, light-years removed from paid-by-the-word pop drivel, and easily on par with Tom Waits, Noel Coward and Bjork at her quirkiest. No lightweight tales of easy shagging, obsession and resentment – virtually the sole subject matter of grime, drill and rap – Holly, instead, reveals tender moments of loss, acceptance, mortality and life-long, awe-inspiring love. This is the work of an artist quite simply at the peak of her powers, delivered with a remarkable voice that’s a virtuoso master-class in pitch, phrasing and the one quality shockingly absent in current pop-pap – conviction.
In that respect, Tree Woman’s as instantly addictive as some new, unknown Class A drug – you just have to have more! Simply clip on your ear-phones, and step into the singular, sonic soundscapes Holly’s thrillingly staked claim to. There’s the swooning, gypsy waltz of La Recoleta, the stomping, rockabilly shuffle of Diggin’ It, the sultry, insidious seduction of Love Dance, Tree Woman’s bravura engagement with mortality, and the devastating, emotional tsunamis of Stay with Me and The Last Enemy.
And sure, there are further jewels in Tree Woman’s embarrassment of riches, but arguably, they’re best sampled live, from the full, onstage, undeniable mystique of Holly herself. Why wait? Quite perfectly, Holly’s chosen to launch Tree Woman at London’s legendary and iconic 100 Club in Oxford Street, the absolute Ground Zero of cutting-edge, musical maverick dissent since the venue opened.
The flashpoint of Mod – all bug-eyed, feral and sexually insatiable, sartorially immaculate kids on speed – the 100 Club also nurtured the blues, Flower Power and Punk, and – if there’s any justice in Heaven – the ghosts of Muddy Waters, Brian Jones and Sid Vicious will be fist-bumping fellow-traveller Holly on her gig ight!
Our advice? Run, do not walk, to your keyboard ASAP, and lock down tickets now – this is one Tree Woman about to bloom in all her gorgeous, gender-fluid glory!
This Sunday, March 8th @ The 100 Club Oxford Street. Tickets: 100 Club
Intrigue. Attraction. Mystery. Lust. Sex. Murder. These are the themes surrounding two plays rolled into one and called ‘Spy Plays’ now at the Above the Stag Theatre.
David Thame’s ‘Kompromat‘ and ‘London/Budapest‘ are shown together for the first time, and both based on true life events where the same actors play different characters in both, 60 years apart.
‘Kompromat’ which in Russian culture is short for “compromising material”, and which has been previously performed at the Vaults, tells the chilling story of Gareth Williams, the presumedly gay man who worked for a government agency and who was found dead inside a sportsbag in the bathtub in his Pimlico flat in 2010. The show takes the story further by surmising that he picked up a man at a gay bar on that night and took him back to his flat. Guy Warren-Thomas plays Gareth, shy yet brilliant, while Max Rinehart plays Zac, the young mysterious Hungarian who seduces Gareth and perhaps had something to do with his death. In ‘London/Budapest’ it’s 1955 and Author Adam de Hegedus (Warren-Thomas), has just met a young man (Rinehart again, at his most seductive) at the Jermyn Street Baths, and takes him back to his Pimlico flat. But who is this young man? Is he who he says he is?
And did de Hegedus actually commit suicide or was he murdered?
So what links these two men? A Pimlico flat, and that both dead had connections to the spy world. And Director Peter Darney beautifully, with the help of the production team, brings it all to life on one of the stages at Above the Stag. In ‘London/Budapest‘ we are whisked to a appropriate era set with a comfy lounge chair while in ‘Kompromat‘ it’s a modern bachelor flat where death will rear its ugly head. And the acting couldn’t be better. While Rinehart has the most dialogue and delivers it with passion, Warren-Thomas Is just perfect in his duel roles and is also absolutely breathtaking when he enters the stage in ‘Kompromat’ in an outfit that’s unexpected yet very, very sexy.
