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The Impossible Dress By Emma Smith Wednesday It's been playing on my mind again lately. It always happens at this time of year. It's wedding season again and some more of my friends are getting married. There's nothing wrong with that; I like them both and I wish them all the best. It's just that my chances of ever getting married seem to be zero. I've always wondered what I'd look like if I did marry but I've never known how to make it happen. I confess I did nearly get to be a bridesmaid, once. A friend who's seen me as a woman told me I could fit in with the others at her wedding. In the end, she called off the wedding so I missed out. That would have been fun, though. I could have joined in with all the shopping and fussing and done some of the things I've missed. I sometimes find myself idly flicking through Websites about weddings. I look at pictures of pretty women in white and wonder why I never got the chance to wear it, too. It's depressing to think about. Even if I decide to transition in this primitive time, it's illegal to get married. It amazes me but in the UK, in 2003, it's a crime for two people to pledge their love if one of them was born the wrong sex. It was only last year that gay couples got the chance to make a civil commitment ceremony. That's in the capital, one of the most cosmopolitan places in Europe. Human society has a long way to go yet and it doesn't seem to be going very fast. My feelings are stronger this year. I just want to know how I'd look if I were getting married. I want to get the clothes I'd wear and see myself. I want to share in some of the things I should have had. I don't think I can do it though. I really don't. On the surface, I don't see why it's impossible. I've a large collection of fashionable clothes; I can hardly close the doors on my main wardrobe. I could do with getting a bigger one or throwing out some more of the male clothes I never wear. I go shopping all the time and I've bought all kinds of things. I may be somewhat introverted and shy but I've managed to buy everything from backless bras to wear under revealing tops to ballgowns. A wedding outfit should be possible, you'd think. It was very difficult at first to buy clothes. I knew I just couldn't do it. When I was young I used to wander through town past clothes shops, trying to see what treasures were inside, while making it look like it was just a random glance of no particular interest. I can still remember the time several years ago now when I finally got the nerve to go inside one. I'd been out in the morning for a quick drink with friends. I came back in and had a lie down. I felt all strange inside, the way I get when I've been unable to be myself for a while. It's an odd feeling that I can't easily describe. Thankfully, it's very rare that I feel it now. I can't explain the way I felt but I knew I had to get my own wardrobe and I had to start now. I still didn't think I could do it so I used a trick. I told myself that even if it were the most embarrassing thing I ever did it would all be over in a few minutes. Then I'd own some nice clothes that I could wear for years. I walked around town for over an hour and never managed to get anywhere. I sort of half walked towards a shop and then found a compelling reason why I didn't want to go in. It's sometimes very easy to rationalise why you don't want to do something difficult even if you really do. That's what I was doing. I thought I was going home empty handed when I remembered what I'd told myself and found some courage from somewhere. I headed down into one of the shops, loud music blaring out into the street and started to look around, nervously. I didn't want to hang around. I saw a long black skirt that looked good and grabbed it. With no idea about sizes, I made a complete guess. I picked up a white blouse to go with it and now wondered if I could do the next step, of actually buying it. It didn't seem a foregone conclusion. I felt so hot and embarrassed and wanted to be somewhere else. Standing in the queue to pay for it felt like torture. On a busy Saturday afternoon in Top Shop at Oxford Circus the line went on forever. There must have been fifteen people in front of me. I felt like everyone had eyes on me, their gazes burning into the back of my head. It's silly of course but on my trip home, I became convinced that everyone knew where I'd been and what I'd bought. I couldn't wait to get in the door; the journey home seemed to take forever. When I did get home, I found that I'd got the size nearly right. The long black skirt with sexy slit turned out just slightly too big on me but I didn't care. In fact, I still own it. It's hanging in my wardrobe now. Even if it didn't fit me any more I'd still keep it as a reminder that sometimes the biggest thing we face is our own fear and it can sometimes be beaten. I've never felt like that again. I've been shopping once or twice a week ever since. I don't buy things every time but I've done well. I often joke to myself that I don't dress like women; they dress like me. When I buy things I often get comments like "Ooh, lovely colour!" or "I'm going to get one just like that" from the sales assistants. None of this helps me now though. I need to do the impossible. I've ruled out hiring a fancy dress costume. It would be just as embarrassing to do, it wouldn't be real, and it wouldn't be mine. What I want is the actual clothes a woman would get married in. That means walking into an ordinary shop and asking to buy a wedding dress. I don't see how that can work. They'll just laugh at me. I'll never even get in the door. I don't entirely know why I want one. I'm not particularly a girly dresser. I mostly wear jeans and mini skirts with jumpers and boots. I suppose it's the same reason I have my party dresses. I don't wear them that often, but when I really get the need to glam up I can just take one out and wear it. The idea won't go away though. I find myself thinking where I'd go to get one. The thought occurs that some of the more upmarket high street stores have wedding ranges and I already know my size in most of them. That takes one obstacle out of the way, I'd know that I was getting the right thing. It's still impossible though, I know it is. I check some of the Websites they have and soon I'm looking at an amazing collection of clothes. The dresses are strapless and white silk. I love the one with a laced back but that seems it might be too difficult to put on so I reluctantly rule it out. I end up staring at a girl in a strapless bodice and skirt. She looks elegant and pretty. I want to be her. I want to wear her clothes. I check out some of the other options but end up coming back to this one. I like most of the outfits on show but this is the one I want the most. I don't know why I'm bothering though. It's just a dream. I suppose it won't hurt to go have a look tomorrow. I can just drop by after work and see what the dresses are like. I don't have to do anything and it won't be that bad. Thursday I leave work slightly early and head down to Leicester Square. It's an inconvenient journey with the Central Line still closed after the accident. The trip takes longer than it normally would and I have to change trains. It's a nice evening and I enjoy the short walk to Covent Garden, trying not to think about what I'm going to do. I see a cute miniskirt in a shop as I walk past it. It's denim and belted. I like it a lot and I decide to get myself one next time I go shopping. Tonight I only have one thing on my mind. As I get near the main road that runs along by the Opera House two men call out to me. I guess I know what they want. They don't normally say anything to me; in fact, this is the first time it's ever happened. Like several years ago, I wonder if the purpose of my errand is somehow plain for everyone else to see. I push my way through a throng of tourists waving video cameras at street artists and duck into the shop. It's quite small and I try to get my bearings. I wander around trying to be casual and probably not succeeding. Part of my brain is telling me that this isn't happening and I'm not here. I try to ignore it and keep going. The wedding clothes are in a rack at the back of the shop. I try to examine them. It's very difficult as they're all in plastic bags. I'm also getting the feeling that people are staring at me. I know they're not but I can't seem to shake it and it's making me very nervous. My feeble attempt to check out the dresses is interrupted as two intense women come up to where I'm standing. They completely ignore me and start pulling dresses off the rail and holding them up. I feel so out of place and I have to leave the shop. I find myself saying the word 'impossible' under my breath as I walk out. Getting what I want seems as far away as ever. To think I can just walk into a shop and buy a wedding dress. I'm disappointed with the outcome. I couldn't see if they had what I wanted because of the plastic coverings on everything. I haven't learnt very much and I've wasted an hour tonight. I take a long roundabout walk in the still evening air. As I walk, I think about the way I feel. It should be easier, it really should. I get home and have another look on the Internet. I want to do this more than ever. It's so unfair that life divides into two halves. If you're in the wrong half you can never have what you want. To make it worse you know that your deepest and most impossible fantasises are mere commonplaces for half the population. To make it even worse society forbids fantasies too. My early memories are full of the horrible times that people found out. No wonder I don't like telling people about myself now. I take stock. OK then. I failed completely tonight, what do I do next? I have to come up with a plausible reason for wanting a dress. It's not easy to think of one. I need a sensible and plausible reason. I'm a storyteller though. I should be able to come up with one. I don't like the thought of lying to get what I want but I can't see any other way. I tell myself it's a white lie. Nobody is going to suffer for it and it will allow both sides to avoid embarrassment. If I can come up with the right story then it can work. I sit quietly and try to work it out. I think it through. The dress can't be for me; it must be for someone else. So maybe it could be for my sister. There must be a reason why she can't get it herself. That's OK she could be out of the country on holiday. She wouldn't send me to choose her wedding dress; no woman would send a man to do that. Suppose that she already has one and something bad happens to it. She's about to go away on holiday at the time and I generously offer to sort everything out for her and replace it. It works. It makes a kind of sense. I'd just ask for what I want, nobody would expect me to know anything about it or answer questions about it. I still don't see how I can do it though. It's still bound to be embarrassing. That may not be a problem though. It would be odd if I didn't feel embarrassed in that situation. That won't make it any less believable. It can still work, I'll see if I can try it this weekend. I sleep fitfully for a couple of hours then I snap awake, knowing immediately that I'm not going to sleep any more tonight. My mind is racing through what I'm going to say and the possible problems that might come up. I spend a long time thinking things through and finding answers to the questions that might come up. Eventually I know that I've done the best I can. I still can't sleep, I seem to be all worked up and there's no chance of getting any more rest. The night is very long and I'm feeling nervous and scared. Friday I get up at about five thirty and fire up my computer. I print out the page that has pictures of the clothes I want and put it in the pocket of my jeans. I don't believe I'm going to do it but I'll go along with it. I decide to go tonight instead of tomorrow, before I can talk myself out of it completely. I have a list of the branches that stock bridal outfits. I'll start with the biggest one. It's only opened recently and I've not bought anything from there before. I rehearse my story on my journey to work. It's beginning to sound sensible to me and I know just what to say. I plan to say as little tonight as I can get away with. The more you try to embellish things the bigger the danger of making some mistake. It helps to have things planned out though. I'm distracted all day at work. I can't quite stop thoughts about what I'm planning to do from crowding into my head all the time. I keep asking myself if I can do it. I don't know the answer. I feel like I maybe can but I don't know. I guess I'll only find out when I get there. Another long train journey later. I wander out of the station and along the main road. The shops here are expensive and brightly lit, with very little on show inside the windows, this is a classy part of town. I walk into the shop and notice that what I want is upstairs. I stride up the steps, trying to be relaxed, and into the section with all the white dresses. I don't quite believe I'm doing it but I check them all out. I sigh over the pretty, laced, dress again but know that I'd have real trouble tying it. I manage to negotiate the plastic wrappings and examine the garments I want. It's easier than yesterday. I'm not in a cramped space and there's nobody watching me. I notice the edge of the hem of the skirt is nearly black with dirt. Presumably, careless people have been trying it on. I check the one skirt in the style I want. It's not my size, I wonder if they have any more. I don't think I'm going to be lucky again. Doubts rage inside me about why I'm here. Just as I feel like I might implode with embarrassment a woman comes and asks me if I need help. I reply that I do and tell her my story. I hand over the printout of what I want and ask for my size. She immediately sends someone down to the basement to check the if they have any more and promises to help me if she can. She says that they have extra stock in the store right now and I might be lucky. I know that I don't ever have much luck so I don't let myself believe it. I hang around trying not to be nervous and while alone for a second take a chance to check out the white shoes and wraps on display. I want to grab a leaflet but it's the only one left and it might look strange if I did. They only have the skirt in my size but will order the top for me. She takes me downstairs to pay and on the way discovers that it's been marked with a red stain. She apologises and can't understand it, it's brand new and has never been on display. I can see one of the other women looking at me with a strange expression. I guess she thinks there's something going on but she doesn't say anything. I try to ignore her. I ask if I can order both items and give her my details. She says that it should be no problem. I need to wait for a call tomorrow to see if they can get them for me. As I travel home, I feel a strange mixture of emotions. I can't let myself believe that this is going to work yet. It might though; there's a chance that it might. I tell myself that whatever happens now I've done well tonight. Damn, if I'd picked one of the other dresses instead then I might already have it tonight. Lack of sleep catches up with me and I go to bed, hoping that everything will work out right. Saturday I wake only slightly early and I feel much better than I did yesterday, having slept soundly. Almost as soon as I'm up I switch on my phone and stick it in my pocket. There are no calls during the morning and I know I have to go out. I expect the phone to ring the second I'm out of the door but it doesn't. I clutch it tightly as I walk down the street. I feel a mixture of hope and fear. I don't know what I'm going to say when they ring. I shouldn't need to say much though. My mind is still inventing disaster scenarios. In one of them, the shop sends the clothes to me by post and my neighbour gets them by mistake. I'm half expecting them to be unable to find what I want. Surely, that won't happen. I'm a typical size for a woman. If I can't get this dress then there'll be many other disappointed brides this spring. I rush back home and sit around waiting. I distract myself by watching a film. I try to avoid thinking about the phone at all. Soon after three o'clock in the afternoon, the call arrives. I hastily grab the phone and answer it. I don't recognise the voice. The woman seems slightly bemused to be talking to a man but is friendly enough. She tells me that they've put the order through and it should arrive within five days. I thank her and hang up. I do a little dance down the stairs. It's going to work. I'm going to get a wedding dress! All I have to do now is go collect it. I can get the rest of my outfit now, a good excuse to go shopping. I've waited to get the other things because I know they'll be easy and I don't want to spend the money until I know I have the dress sorted out. Sunday I head down to Leicester Square again. I plan to visit various shops there and then go on to Oxford Street. The first thing I buy is an ivory silk wrap. It's not the one that I wanted; they didn't have any in their wedding department. It will go perfectly with the dress though. On my way down Long Acre I call in to buy the denim skirt that I saw the other day. It's very short and looks great. I don't know my size in this shop but I'm good at estimating that. I decide to buy a size twelve and I'm near certain it will fit. I see another skirt I like but I decide to wait until I've tried this one. Next, I buy a small ivory beaded bag with a silver chain. I also get a silver torque necklace from the same shop. It's not necessarily for my wedding outfit but I can't resist it and it's inexpensive. Then I walk across the road and buy a waist slip for under the wedding skirt. I don't have any in white; I don't wear them that often. The shop hardly has any in small sizes so I get the only one I can. It's ivory, pretty with a tiny lace trim and just about long enough to do the job. I decide not to go looking for shoes today until I've done some checking up on the Internet. I think the catalogue I use might have some nice ones but I forgot to look before coming out. I think I'm finished now but I catch a glimpse of a very pretty top in another shop. It's white with a bright flower print. Again it's not very expensive and I rush in and grab one. It's one of the perils of shopping. I'm always seeing new things and wanting to get them. I counteract this by not going shopping too often, or by going to just get one thing I already know about. I'm not entirely shopping mad and I don't overspend. I tell myself that I have it under control. It might even be true. I check a couple of other places for books and new computer games, finding nothing new. I decide I've done enough today and set off for home. When I get in, I try everything on. The denim skirt couldn't be a better fit. It's exactly right. I pull on a black jumper with it and some boots and check myself out. I like it. I drape the wrap over my shoulders. It looks pretty, although it's not meant to go with these clothes. While I'm changing into the new top and jeans I try on the slip, no problems with size there either. Not that I expected any. Everything I've bought is great. I just need some shoes and I'll have a complete outfit. I'm starting to believe now that I'm going to get the dress. Tuesday I'm distracted at work again today. I keep turning my phone on and checking for the 'message waiting' signal. I finally check it just before leaving the office. Nobody has called and I decide to go looking at shoes tonight. I make it across town to Oxford Street. I call into a branch of the shop where I got the skirt on Sunday and buy a short black buckled one. I saw it on Sunday and it's quite cheap. I can never own enough short skirts and I do wear them often. Then I go looking at the shoes. As I saw in the catalogue, they have some nice silver sandals, with pretty stars on the straps. Silver is fashionable now if you believe the magazines. I pick them up and check them out. They seem quite well made and aren't that expensive. I'd like to get them but I can't find a single free sales assistant. There's about four of them at the cash desk but they all seem to be engrossed in deep conversations with customers. The shops are about to close and I need to get to a couple of other places. I decide to leave it for now and order them from the catalogue. I can get them by Saturday anyway. I wonder if these shops know how much they lose because of things like this. I think they might welcome me a bit more warmly if they knew how much I spend on clothes. In another shop, I see an amazing print top. It jumps out at me off the rail. I immediately see myself wearing it under my black skirt suit and grab it. I have to stop buying things soon or I'll be eating bread and water for the rest of the month. I go home without the shoes but with a new skirt. I try that on with a black top and it looks good. The buckles on it are for show but I like the way it looks and feels. Wednesday I'm sitting at work messing with my phone when I discover it's somehow lost the settings for voicemail. They might have rung me yesterday and I wouldn't have got the message. I panic for a second. I tell myself that I know they didn't ring yesterday. I'd have seen a missed call indicator if they had. I calm myself down with the thought. It takes me about ten minutes to reset the phone and check that the voicemail is now working. Then I switch it off again. I have this fear of taking that call in the office. It's my old paranoia again, that everyone somehow knows what I'm doing. In the afternoon, I turn the phone on and it immediately beeps at me. I have a message. I scrabble for the earphone and press the button. Again, I hear a slightly confused woman. She tells me that my clothes are here and waiting to collect. I need to call her back and arrange it. It's a warm and pleasant day so I go for a quick walk to a quiet spot. I ring back and arrange to call in tomorrow night. I try to be very matter of fact in tone. I've found this is the best way to approach these things. If you sound as though you know what you're doing and it's all perfectly normal then people tend to believe you and respond appropriately. After the call, I head straight back to the office. All I have to do now is go in tomorrow and collect it. I know I can do it now but it could still be stressful. I tell myself what I did all those years back. The embarrassment will be over in five or ten minutes. I'll have the dress forever then. Thursday I'm nowhere near as worried as I was last Friday. I manage to stay focussed on my work and only occasionally think about what I'm going to do. I leave work ten minutes or so early and head straight off for the Waterloo and City Line for the first leg of my journey. The train isn't as crowded as it was last week and I get a seat. I try to read the evening paper but I find it hard to concentrate on it. I've brought a large plastic bag with me, folded up small. This is just in case they give me something too obvious. I don't want a huge bag with 'Wedding Dress' on it in big gold letters. I have to travel half way across London with it and I might meet people I know. It's beginning to get dark as I walk out of the station. I know the right exit this time and avoid a dangerous crossing in front of impatient traffic. I'm repeating my mantra to myself that I just have this one thing to do and then it's over. As I enter the shop, I click the button on my watch to start the timer. I just want to find out how long this lasts in reality. For some reason it's important to know this, don't ask me why. Immediately I get a shock. The place is full of women drinking champagne. It looks to me like they're just kicking off a bridal evening. Oh God! There wasn't anything on the Website about this. I remember reading there's one in Oxford tonight but nothing about here. Girls in bridesmaid's dresses are fluttering around and a man in a morning suit is pouring drinks for everyone. My calm evaporates and a major internal panic starts running. I try to decide what to do. Just giving up isn't an option but I admit to myself that I'm scared. There must be thirty people queuing up to hand in their invitations. I wander upstairs and look around, searching for the woman I saw last week. I can't see her anywhere. I'm so annoyed. This all looked so easy five minutes ago. Now I don't know what to do. By the time I go back down the throng is moving in the other direction. I can see that everyone moving upstairs after registering at the desk. I'm so relieved it's hard to describe. It looks like I'll soon be able to get near the cash desk and ask about my order. I join the thinning crowd at the desk and see the woman I talked to last week. She recognises me and tells someone to fetch my clothes. It seems to take a very long time. I stand there feeling conspicuous and listening to young women discussing the merits of various dresses. I hear one of them is swooning over the laced dress I looked at last week. I can start to see the amusing side of things now. I wanted to know what it's like to shop for wedding clothes. Now here I am gate crashing an event I'd really enjoy. I'd never have had the nerve to come here if I'd known about it and I never expected find myself in the middle of something like this. Soon she brings out my clothes and we check them over together. I look at the sizes and make sure there are no problems or marks on them. They look beautiful; I think I've never seen anything quite so pretty. She hands me over to another woman to sort out the payment. The other girl asks me when the wedding is. I tell her it's soon now and I'm helping my sister. She carefully folds the plastic wrappers and puts them in an ordinary bag. It's nearly over. I've nearly succeeded. On my way out of the shop, the kind woman says good bye to me. I thank her warmly for all her help. I regret having had to lie to her. She was so helpful to me. At the door I click my watch and stop the timer. The whole experience took twelve minutes and thirteen seconds of real time. It felt like a couple of hours at least when I was in there. My heart is beating quickly. It's been a very nervous twelve minutes indeed. I head home, carefully folding the top of the large paper bag so nobody can see inside. It would be obvious what I've bought. I get home at about eight o'clock and immediately need to try everything on. I take the bag out of the wardrobe with the things from Sunday and spread them out on the bed. I take out a good pair of shoes from the wardrobe and choose some jewellery. Then I carefully unzip the plastic covers on my new clothes. The only strapless bra I can find is black. Damn, I don't understand it. My white one is around somewhere. I keep all my underwear together and it can't have gone far. I suppose it doesn't matter for tonight. I'm just making sure everything is all right. The bodice is an almost exact fit. It's just slightly tight but I think it's meant to be. I think the size I've bought was right. I can see how pretty it looks in the mirror. I feel good in it. The skirt goes on over the slip and I fasten it. It's very full and feels incredible to wear. It's just a fraction too big at the waist but not enough to need pinning. I probably could have got away with a twelve but it would have been a risk. As I put on my shoes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see something I thought I never would. I see myself dressed for a wedding. I see myself as a bride. I put on some jewellery and arrange my hair nicely; it falls onto my bare shoulders and tickles them. The wrap folds easily round me and I pick up the bag. I can't explain how I feel now. I don't think I could tell anybody what it means to see and feel this. I know that most people wouldn't care about it and many people would even hate me for it. After a while I take the clothes off and pack them away carefully for the moment. I'll soon be wearing them again. I plan to get some photographs of myself. Then I'll have something in the future to remind me of how I looked in my white wedding outfit. Saturday In the afternoon while I'm writing, a cute woman knocks on the door and hands over a parcel. I thank her and sign for it. Then I run upstairs and hastily open it up. I take out the new white underwear and remove the fussy packaging. I check the bra and it's an excellent fit. I haven't found the old one so I bought this new set. It helps to wear something under the bodice, gives me a better figure. Then I check the shoes out. I open the tissue paper they're packed in with the same feeling I've always had at these times, "I can't believe these are mine". They are, they belong to me, and I smile at the thought. I now have a complete outfit. They are pretty and I can wear them with most of my black clothes too. I have a lot of black. Again, I look at my new white clothes hanging in their protective wrappers. It's only just over a week since I knew I had to try to do this. Now I've done it and it's been successful. Looking back on last week, the worst part of it all was my own fear. Nothing that happened was anything like the nightmares and potential disasters I kept making up for myself. The worst of the embarrassment was in my head all the time. I've pushed my limits again; It's a very empowering feeling. I feel I've fought back against the invisible prison walls that make up society in some small way. I stop my self before it carries me away. I don't believe all that 'new age stuff'. What I do know is that if you believe you can't do something then you're already beaten. The next wedding I attend I won't feel as bad. I know a bit more now; I've had some experiences that most don't. I'll have some idea how she felt and the fun and stress of getting her outfit together. I'll know what it's like to put it all on and feel special. I can do it myself now, any time I feel the need. I don't know if things will ever be better for those like me. I doubt I'll still be around when they are. All I can do is live this life and try to reach some balance with the way things are and the way I am. The End