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BIRDIE Winnie Winkle is my hero, a single mother who became the premiere fashion designer of our time. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame; I wanted to be her disciple. So, after high school, I took off for the big city. Some of my friends were sharing a loft there; they worked some gigs in the theatre district, helping out here and there, and one place let them use their loft as a sort of studio apartment. But their space was cramped, and I had no money for rent, and no job. Randy did get me a gig helping out with period costuming for a new play set in 15th Century England. I had done some costumes for RenFaire back home so I was confident about this. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and I got to meet interesting new people. But the greatest thing was when Winnie herself came to see the production, and asked about who had done the period outfits. So we met! She complimented me, and I gushed over her, and my living arrangements were made known to her, and she did this amazing thing. She told me I could stay, rent free, in her apartment, in her son Perry's room. He had been MIA in the military for a long time. If he was ever found, of course I would give up the room. But until then, all I had to do was help out as needed here and there. And she would give me pointers! And answer questions! Amazing! This was better than I could ever have hoped. I had some work, and many new acquaintances, and now the best possible place to live. But then a dark cloud appeared on the horizon. A new fashion talent appeared in town, Etienne LeBlanc, and he was doing everything possible to steal Winnie's thunder...and her clients. All the papers were falling over themselves to cover his shows. Now he was going to pull out all the stops, for a major new line. Everybody who was anybody was invited, media, industry people, business leaders and celebrities. He was throwing a gala at his big showcase place, with live entertainment, food and drink, and special events. He was sending out engraved invitations. Winnie's best friend Birdie burst into her apartment without knocking, she was so angry. I had to quickly tug my door shut because I was only in my briefs. "Oh that LeBlanc! The nerve! Where did he come from? Why haven't we heard of him before?" "Oh they say he was a big hit in Montreal, Birdie. Took the place by storm." "Well I smell a rat! There's something fishy! I need to get my animals straight, but you know what I mean; I don't trust him!" "Yes there is something funny about him, something I cannot quite put my finger on. But so far he has broken no laws, so there is not much we can do. You and I have faced stiff competition before, after all, and we always came out on top." "That's my Winnie, always a trouper! Have a hug." Birdie was a plumply curvaceous woman who loved to hug everyone. "But as for this engraved invitation, pffft! How dare he invite me, when he should know how close we are? I am just going to dump it in your wastebasket. There! Where it belongs." "Oh Birdie, you don't have to do that. This is going to be the big event of the season. Don't you want to see and be seen?" "Not within ten miles of that rat or fish or whatever. Nope! I'll take in a show or something." So then the conversation turned to the theatre, and Winnie shared some coffeecake with Birdie which seemed to calm her down. After I heard the door close I put on my sweats and went to ask Winnie if I could do anything to help her at this difficult time. She just smiled. Here I was, basically her charity case, and I was offering to help. "No, Kevin, I am a big girl and can take care of myself. But thanks." She tidied up the kitchen and went out. I looked down in the wastebasket and saw Birdie's invitation, white card stock with gold engraving and her name on it. It was then that I got my crazy idea. I was not a big guy but I had been a gymnast and I was in great shape. I would bet my waist size was close to the same as Birdie's. In heels our height would be reasonably similar. Our coloring was not that different. I did have some good pecs and abs, but some clever clothing and padding could take care of that discrepancy. I reached into the wastebasket and retrieved the invitation. I had an idea I needed to run by my pals back at the loft. They were not as excited about it as I was. "Is this sort of thing against the law? What if you get Birdie into trouble?" Because my proposal was that, with their help, I would impersonate Winnie's friend, go to the gala with "my" invitation, and deliberately ruin it. "If it looks like Birdie is going to get in trouble, I will just step forward and admit everything. People will see that it could not be her fault." Birdie, always friendly, was a big supporter of the young guys, tossing pieces of work their way whenever she could. They were all really fond of her. "Have you ever done this kind of thing before, Kevin?" asked Randy. "No but I did help some guys get dolled up for a Shakespearean drama at the RenFaire; you know, in that era all the female parts were played by men. I got some good comments on my work, too." They grumbled and muttered but finally agreed to help me out, which was a good thing, because I knew very little about such things as hair and makeup. Then another one of them, Alex, stepped up and scanned me closely all over, head to toe. "First order of business," he declared, "is to take care of your skin." "What's wrong with my skin?" I responded, feeling suddenly defensive. Grinning, Alex said, "Well, you look like a guy." "What's that supposed to mean? I don't have any obvious defects, no scars or moles or anything." They chuckled. "What is your daily routine for your skin, then?" Alex asked. "I shower every day. I keep it clean." I was not enjoying this line of questioning, this critique. "Why do you suppose women spend so much time in the bathroom each morning?" they asked. I didn't know, I just thought it took that long to get their makeup on. "In addition to cleansing, they are exfoliating, toning and moisturizing! And they take extra time to gently pat their skin dry, no rough toweling allowed. Extra time must be spent on trouble spots, such as ankles and elbows." "Speaking of which," observed Alex, "you had better start on your trouble areas immediately!" He grabbed my arm and held it up for them all to see. "Look at that elbow! And the wrist is rough and leathery too!" They were teasing me, of course, but I could see their point. Many of the people at the gala would know Birdie personally. They would think it odd if she showed up with rough elbows. Now that I stopped to think about it, Birdie's skin was probably smoother and softer than that of most people. I sighed, "All right, so what do I do first?" Eventually I got a couple different kinds of buffing pads, a loofah, some products for toning the skin, astringents, and more than one kind of moisturizer. It turned out there were specialties for all kinds of different areas and applications. "Serum"; it sounded so medical, like I was some kind of patient. I started right off putting that not only on my elbows, wrist, ankles and knees, but also a special serum under my eyes. It stung, and I complained. "You must suffer for your art!" they laughed. "Also, you should immediately start shaving as closely as possible. Hot lather; start with a downward stroke, working thoroughly. Then rinse off, lather up again, and use upward stroked this time. Be careful not to get any nicks or cuts. You will also need to take care to remove all hair from your chest, arms and underarms. You can use an overall hair remover the day of the event, but you should start on those most visible areas immediately." "But what about right now?" I asked. "Are there some things I can start on right away?" "Sure, how about posture, movement and gestures. We have some experience around the stage and can give you some pointers." So they did, showing me how to sit down with my knees pressed together (especially important for getting in and out of cars, and also for sitting in a booth.) Walking in heels was not much of a problem for me, with my gymnastic experience; keep the weight forward on my feet, do not press down on the heel. They taught me to take smaller quicker steps that I was used to, and to keep my legs closer together as I walked, not spaced wide apart. "Keep your elbows in to your sides, as well, and let your hands and forearms float up at an angle as you walk, as if they were weightless." I thought I resembled a lizard or a gecko as I strutted around like this; I said so but the guys just chuckled. The guys scrounged some other stuff, a bra, some padding, a panty girdle. "I do not need to look smaller in the hips," I groused, and they agreed. "This is just to hold some scraps of foam rubber we have here among the props. That will give you a little more dimension." It did seem to help some, but I thought I could see lumpy outlines from the padding. "So just wear loose clothing" they said. But Birdie never wears loose clothing. I was grateful for their help and did not want to complain. They got a stage wig in her color and style, and then went to work on my face. More serum, this time for my lips, plump them up. I worried that while the wig might look good on stage, up close it was not very convincing. But they did a good job with the makeup and gave me tips on hiding and reshaping my brows, lining and reshaping my lips (Birdie had a cute pout). Using highlighter and shading to make my brow ridge less prominent, and make my nose almost disappear. A little highlighter up on the cheeks at an angle from the blusher made the cheekbones look more prominent. I had to get them to back down on the eyes; they worked for stage productions, but I needed to pass in real life. I could see that this was going to need some work. I thanked them, but said I should probably get back out of character since I was not ready to take this show on the road yet. They agreed. I put their gear in a tote bag and went home. On the way I stopped at a drug store, and got some artificial nails, good quality ones, and a scarf and some lycra enhanced pantyhose, flowery deodorant. How weird to be sneaking stealthily into my own place, but I did not want Winnie to notice me and start asking questions. Once in my room, I got out my gear for work, a folding table, measuring tape, scissors, double sided tape, fabric and so on. I already had an image in mind for the outfit I would wear as Birdie, an A line dress, above the knee, with a high waist, to be cinched by a goldtone chain. Scoop neck. Sleeveless, but my manly biceps would be disguised by a cute little bolero jacket. The material was a light camel. The work did not have to be perfect; this was not for professional critique but just for a one-time event! I bent my head over a basin and carefully shaved all the hair off my head. I checked the mirror, saw a couple trouble spots, and perfected by baldness. I was now ready to play the role of a cancer victim, when I went wig hunting. I stripped, applied flowery deodorant, tucked away my boy parts inside a snugly pulled pair of panties, and tugged on the panty girdle. I was not happy with the foam padding, but did the best I could with it. Then the bra with its own padding; the guys used forms filled with birdseed, which is a theatre tradition going back to Shakespeare. Well, I was going to improve on that as well; one thing at a time. I put on the hose, it was nice and snug and did help give a little shine and shape to my legs. Then the nails, give them time to dry thoroughly. My dress was a perfect fit, which was a relief, since I had never made a dress for myself before. Then the face. Lip serum, give it a minute to make my narrow lips plumper. Disguise the brows and nose. Concealer under the eyes. Foundation all over (it is amazing how much just this single step can make a transformation, before we even do anything to the eyes, lips or cheeks!); pat it gently. Light sparkly shadow under the brows, a medium tone above the lids, darker and warmer below. Smudge darker wings out beyond the eyes, but subtle, not overdone. Eyeliner. Crimp and curl the lashes (ow); simple mascara. Light blusher, enhanced with highlighter inward and toward the eye, to make the cheeks look fuller. Pink pencil inside my lower lids. Birdie always looked friendly and cheerful; this would help. Contour above the jaw, very low key. Line the lips in a cupid bow pouting shape, and fill them in, topping with dots of gloss. I formed the scarf into a cap, like the wave caps some guys wear. I looked in the mirror. "Looking good, Birdie! But whatever have you done to your hair?" I giggled. The sound of my own voice shocked me; I was really getting into this! Birdie always wore earrings, but my ears were not pierced. Next step, the mall. Piercing Pagoda. Would the guy wonder why some 30-something woman had not pierced her ears yet? Apparently not; he was really busy, and that was helpful. I got studs and a starter set, which was good enough for me. Then to one of the department stores; there were several and so I just went to the nearest one. Sure enough, they had a wig station, next to the jewelry. My new earrings should help me come across as a genuine girl. I just walked up to the counter and took off my scarf; that explained everything. Smiling sympathetically, the lady measured my head a couple ways, and then asked what I was looking for. "I used to have blonde curls, worn short" I lied. She brought several for me to look at, and one was absolutely perfect. Ouch! I was making a huge dent in my savings. I hoped it would be worth it. I asked about eyelashes and they pointed out the door; right there was a nail place which did lashes. Thanking them, I went on to my next upgrade. Can you make my lashes fuller please? No, not that glam, I just need something for everyday, office, professional. Oh yes those are perfect! Not too overstated but really full and fluffy. Oh, you say they are mink? (more expense). But after they applied them for me, I could see that the result was perfection, and not at all artificial looking. Now for the hardest part. I asked directions to a store which did fittings for mastectomy patients. I needed a better bust. I sat in their waiting area and did just that, waited, until everyone else was gone. Then I took a deep breath and marched up to the lady in charge. Her dark hair was in an updo, and she wore pearls; I felt rather intimidated. But I came right out and said "I am transitioning, and need a good breast form. Can you help me?" No way could I have successfully pretended to be a cancer victim, without scars and so on. I let my breath out in a whoosh when she smiled and said no problem, thanks for being up front (so to speak!) about that. Then it was easy, getting measured and fitted and choosing just the right appliances. "Is there anything else you would like while you are here?" she asked. I did not know what she meant. Then she looked meaningfully at my hips. Was that foam padding so obvious? I felt my cheeks burn. But she just chuckled. "You are not the only one to come in with such needs, so fear not. We are prepared." Once again I got fitted, and this padded panty girdle was ideal, no telltale outlines, just a smooth profile on hips and butt, and a smooth flat V in front. Tears came into my eyes. Why was that? I was not really transitioning. Maybe it was just the stress. But she gave me a little hug. "You have made good choices here- including being honest with me! I predict you will do well." Shoe store for some matching shoes; department store again for a spritzer of her favorite scent. Charles of the Ritz. A matching bag. Now to test drive this ensemble. I hailed a cab, and got off at a deli near my place. Birdie loved to nosh here. I walked in and waggled my fingers at the counter guy. "Hey, Bernie!" "Hey Birdie! Lookin' good!" "Just got a tune up at my service station, which happens to be the mall" I joked as I sat down (knees together). "Regular?"- "You betcha" (saves me from having to guess what she likes!) The regular turned out to be a cheese Danish, which works for me. As I was just dabbing some crumbs off my pouty lips, a big guy came and sat down beside me, uninvited! "Yo, gorgeous! Change your mind about the big gala at LeBlanc's? We could meet up afterward at the bistro downstairs there." "You know what, Charlie? I DID change my mind. I will be there as a faithful friend, taking notes. And afterwards...who knows?" and I gave him a wink and a quick peck on the lips as I scooted out of there. As I left, I heard Bernie kidding Charlie "So buddy, you finally got to first base! What was it, your aftershave?" Charlie just chuckled and shook his head. Whee! I had fooled two guys at once. Now for the final test. I went over to the loft where my buddies stayed. After walking up several flights of stairs, I barged in without knocking, slamming the door. "What is this I hear? What stunt are you boys planning to pull, at the risk of my good name? Couldn't be bothered to talk to me first? WELL??" They cowered away from me. "We're so sorry, Birdie! Kevin swore if there were any problems he would come clean and take responsibility for everything!" At that I chuckled, took off my wig, and just said "And so I will. But I do not anticipate any problems at all!" And I left, just like dropping the mic. On my way home I picked up a couple hot dogs from a street vendor. This would be my only meal until tomorrow night, since I had put too much work into this look to change it now, and I dared no go out when I might run into the real Birdie. Tomorrow night at the big event there were be canapes and hors d'oeuvres and lot of goodies, but I was not going there to eat. Once again I had to sneak into my room. "Kevin, is that you? Would you like a bite to eat?" came a familiar voice. "Thanks, Winnie" I said through my door, "but I'm not feeling so hot; maybe later I can grab something, okay?" Fortunately she accepted my excuse. I fell flat on my back on the bed. This imposter business was hard work! I got out of my outfit, hose, girdle, bra with forms...and wig. I had no wig stand, so I turned off my table lamp and hung the wig over the shade. I would leave the makeup in place if I could manage it, and just touch it up tomorrow. I know they say to remove the stuff every night but this would just be once and I would never ever do it again. The earrings felt funny but I left them in too, and I left the nails on, and the eyelashes. I hoped this would not mess anything up, but I figured I was more likely to mess them up if I tried to reapply them. I could not sleep that night. I lay on my back (careful not to mess up my makeup) and stared at the ceiling. If this goes wrong, goodbye to my deal with Winnie, the room, the gigs, I am out on the streets. I nervously got up and grabbed a hot dog. As I sat down on the bed to eat it, and inner voice chided me "No, not that way! Put your knees together first, and then swivel down onto your seat!" Sigh. I swiveled up off the bed and checked my look in the mirror. Not bad, just a dab of mustard on my cute pouty upper lip. I neatened that up and started pacing. What if I run into some of her friends, and I don't know their names? What if I forget to walk right, or hold my arms right? What if I get caught and prosecuted for the vandalism I am about to cause? Could I plead temporary insanity? Time for the other hot dog, but no mustard this time. I sat down at my desk (properly) and put my head in my hands. If I had asked Birdie, she would have refused permission, which is why I had not asked her. So, I have wronged her. My buddies had warned against this, and I had ignored them. What I am contemplating is in fact a breach of the law, I will be a criminal. Sigh. As the sun came up, I finally fell asleep. There was a knock on the door, and I was still in my makeup. "Kev, do you feel like having some breakfast?" "Sorry Winnie, I am just not quite myself yet," I replied, stifling a giggle. I never used to giggle, what is up with that? As I lay in bed I heard Birdie come in; the two of them chatted about the upcoming event. "Know what I discovered?" Birdie exclaimed. "That Etienne LeBlanc became a hit in Montreal shortly after a certain designer named Steve White fled the city avoiding arrest for defrauding customers and stealing designs! Same name, different language! I bet he got his start in Quebec by using those stolen designs! Wait 'til this hits the papers!" "Good work, Sherlock, but if tonight is a big hit he will be strong enough to just brush off the accusations," Winnie sighed. But I was going to add that to my arsenal for that evening. I heard them both go out the door. Quietly, I got myself together, piece by piece. First I put the panties back on; they were the only ones I had since I had forgotten to consider them on my shopping spree. I tucked them up tight, and struggled into the confining panty girdle. The results were worth it; my whole lower profile had changed. Then the lycra hose; nice! From the waist down, I was a woman. Then the bra, not used to putting these things on, it is hard not to get all tangled up. Finally the breast forms and adhesive; somehow it felt good to have them balanced there, very natural seeming already. Check for unwanted hair, face, chest, and arms. Fortunately I am not really a hairy guy; only a light touchup was needed. Then the skin care, giving special attention to the elbows and wrists. To tell the truth, my elbows are not yet as smooth as Birdie's, but the rest of my disguise was good enough to fool everybody yesterday so I am not too worried. Dress, chain belt, bolero. Check the makeup; a little smudgy around the eyes, so I neaten that up. Lastly the wig, and a spritz of scent. A couple fresh dabs of gloss on my lips. A quick swipe of the mascara wand, even though I do not really need it; just nerves, I guess. If I hang around here too long Winnie is going to poke her face in the door to check on me in case I am really ill. I had better take off now. I grab my bag, with a little cash, spritzer, tissue, mascara, gloss. And a cigarette lighter. Why that? You will see. We were not too far from the bus stop, and from there it was a quick hop to the downtown library. Birdie would never go there in the middle of a work day, I figured. I hid out in the stacks, keeping a low profile. I found a book about Julian Eltinge who was a crossdressing entertainer a century ago, very demure and discreet, and amazing looking. It was in a section for transgender studies, which I thought was a mistake on the part of the library; the two topics are not equivalent. Come late afternoon I went to the little coffee shop they had there, and enjoyed a juice. I was nervous and did not want to risk dehydration. I used a straw, so as not to mess up my lips. I went to the ladies room and checked my look; I was sure something would seem wrong but it all looked fine. I was just getting all wound up. Cabs cost money and I was nearly broke by now, so I just walked over to LeBlanc's. Besides saving money, this would help kill more time, since I was still too early. I did not want to do anything to make myself stand out. Finally as I arrived there did seem to be a good number of people entering the facility. A man was at the door taking the invitations; he accepted mine without a second glance. "Oh Hi, Birdie! I thought you weren't coming!" Oops, one of her friends, now what? I just looked over and laughed and said, "Oh well I figured maybe Winnie could stand to have an ally or two here, doncha know?" I had not said her name, and hoped the omission was not too obvious, but the person had already been carried away by the throng, so I was saved. The elevator was crowded; there was hardly any room to breathe. Suddenly, I felt somebody pinch my foam padded butt! "Yipe!" I yelped, like a chihuahua. He pinched me again! I could not turn around to see who my persecutor was. But then a voice whispered in my ear: "Birdie, darlin'! I am so delighted to be able to lay eyes on you again!" "Charlie, you old hound! I can't stop your eyes, but as for the rest of your body parts, kindly keep them to yourself!" He chuckled and some others on the elevator laughed out loud. Those two must be a familiar item around here, bantering back and forth. When we got off on the floor for LeBlanc's salon, there was a foyer with rest rooms and a coat rack. This opened out into the main hall. Against my own wishes, I found myself impressed with the decorations. Several mannikins were posed around the walls with very trendy fashions. To my right was an alcove with trays of food; that was probably where his kitchen was (yeah, his very own kitchen, right?). Straight ahead was another alcove with a huge window, in front of which was a large silver cage full of white doves. He was probably going to release those over the city as part of his grand finale. Fortunately Charlie latched on to another group of attendees. I smiled and worked my way around the edges, avoiding getting drawn into conversation with anyone. Sure enough, that first alcove was where the kitchen had its access to the hall. I nonchalantly sidled over there and saw a huge multi tiered cake with lavish icing, sitting on a wheeled cart ready to be pushed out into the throng. Okay, why wait? I will just give them a little help with the pushing. I released the brake levers on the wheels and gave the cart a hearty push right into the middle of the crowd. Crash! Cake and gooey icing went flying everywhere, falling on dozens of shocked fashionistas, ruining their hair and outfits. With everyone distracted by that commotion, I walked around the edge of the hall toward the doves. "Oh, poor little birdies, all locked up! You look unhappy. My name is Birdie too! I am here to help you fly free, as we birds were meant to do. Be free, little birds!" I turned the cage around and released the birds into the crowd. The crowd was still in an uproar over the cake incident, which alarmed the birds! They flew all over the place, getting in people's hair. They also were so scared that they relieved themselves all over the guests. I ran into the kitchen. "Quick! Your help is needed gathering up those birds before they do more harm!" The chef and his crew ran out. As soon as they were gone, I hopped up on a counter and retrieved my cigarette lighter from my bag. There were many heat sensors in that ceiling, to prevent fires; I held the lighter up to one and it did its job, activating sprinklers all over the place. I ran back into the hall, where people were screaming and running into each other. "What a mess! What a disaster!" I loudly opined, and soon others were saying the same thing. As I edged my way toward the exit, where others were already leaving, I turned my face away from the ones nearest mean and said in my own voice, as loudly as I could, "Etienne LeBlanc is really that crook, Steve White! He split town before the cops could get him. He's Steve White!" That just enraged the crowd further. I could hear people exclaiming, "He broke our contract! He stole my designs! He cheated me!" I ducked into the ladies room, to check that my wig was on straight. Other women were in there touching up their makeup and grousing to each other. My wig looked fine; what a relief! I just dabbed my ruined mascara and turned to go. A taller, severe looking woman stopped me at the door. "Birdie, I know you are a loyal friend of Winnie, but I would be shocked if you were responsible for this fiasco!" she said. I had no clue what her name was, but I answered anyway. "That would be shocking indeed, since it would be so out of character for me! As long as we have known each other, have I ever given you cause to believe that I could lower myself to pull a stunt like that?" She sighed and said no, she was sorry she came off that way. She was just bummed out because she was one of LeBlanc's business backers and stood to lose a lot of money. Nothing I could do about that. She chose to bet on the wrong horse. I marched out of there with my nose in the air and didn't look back. I was flat broke by now, so no cab or bus for me. I walked all the way back to Winnie's place, in those three inch heels. Torture! When I got to her suite, I could hear two familiar voices inside. My luck had finally run out; I could not evade them. Oh well, I had to come out with the truth sooner or later; might as well do it now. I walked in and slowly, nervously, shuffled over to where Winnie and Birdie were sitting in the living area, watching the local news. There was the angry crowd streaming out of LeBlanc's! And there was Charlie standing up in front of the camera. He must report the trade news for the local station. "Police have been called...mystery prankster...LeBlanc revealed to really be Steve White, disgraced designer...warrants are already out for his arrest." "Ahem," I said, from behind their couch. They turned around, and then both gasped and jumped up. "I am the prankster," I confessed. "If any trouble comes of this, if you are in any way implicated, Birdie, I will immediately step up and explain everything, and take my punishment. I saw Birdie throw out her invitation and just could not resist the chance to give Steve what he deserves. So, whatever you want to do with me, that's fine. I did something wrong, but I am not ashamed." Birdie started walking around me, looking me up and down. "Kiddo, you look magnificent. People will think I found the fountain of youth! Except for your elbows, they are atrocious." I had to chuckle. "I only had a few days to work on them, but if you give me more time I will bring them up to your standards." She laughed and ruffled my hair, which looked so much like her own. "You are a rascal, kid, but I admire your guts." Now Winnie was giving me the once over. "Where did you get the money for that outfit, Kevin?" "I made it myself." "With my materials and equipment?" Now, that stung. I may be a vandal but I would not take Winnie's stuff. "Come to my room and see" I said, and led them there. There on my work table were the scraps of cloth, and the tools of the trade, all my own. "I keep some cloth here to work on when I get ideas," I explained. I showed them some dresses hanging in the closet. "Kevin, you are indeed a rascal. You are also one hell of a great designer. Would you mind if I include this in my spring showing?" Whoa, what an honor! "Ah, yeah, su-sure" I stammered. "What would you think of joining my full time staff? Consider this your punishment; we work long hours!" But she was smiling. This time the words would not come. I bent my head onto her shoulder and bawled my eyes out. It had been a long stressful day; I never cry like that. "There, there," she said as she patted my curly blonde head. "Aww!" cooed Birdie, sounding just like a dove.