This is just a recounting of where my path has taken me and where I've ended up as the years have gone by. The story is told in the context of Halloween...

Halloween, as it's celebrated today, is a curious holiday. Getting past the traditional "harvest festival" roots, it's one of the few times each year when the rules crumble and society's prohibitions fall aside to allow us to be ourselves or someone else entirely...whoever that may be. It's no wonder it has been adopted by the TG community as "our" holiday. In my case, the process of assembling my costumes over the years have taken an interesting course and they reflect my changing attitudes about myself and how I want to be seen by others.

I came out early in 1998 with an exciting and liberating trip to a Glamour Shots photo studio. Bolstered by that experience, I decided to relive it for the Halloween festivities at work. I work at a large company with reasonable non-discrimination policies so I was fairly comfortable with what I was doing. But, even though I could always fall back on the Halloween excuse, I decided to check with my boss to make sure it wouldn't be a problem. She didn't have any objections after I reassured her that my costume would be tasteful.

I chose to be a flight attendant. It made perfect sense to me at the time given that I was still suffering from "gender euphoria" and in hindsight, it doesn't surprise me that I chose such a flagrantly feminine costume. I became completely engrossed in the preparation and found a navy pinstripe pantsuit, dug out a tiny rolling suitcase to use as a prop, and even cut and painted a set of gold wings to attach to a pin. I was not confident enough in my own hair and makeup skills so I found a full-service salon willing to do my hair and makeup for me. The salon wasn't just a means to deal with my lack of experience, it was also an excuse to indulge in the whole salon experience and continue experiencing the euphoria. Calling the salons was a nerve-wracking process but in all honesty, none of the salons I called were bothered by my request. It was for a Halloween costume, after all.

I won't go into all of the details about the makeover and hair styling. Let me just say that it was a wonderful 2 hours of pampering from a woman who used to do beauty pageant makeup and there were more than a few stares from some of the other patrons in the store because I hadn't changed into my outfit yet. Although the rain of pinned curls (my hair is quite long) was stylish and elegant, unfortunately the makeup job was too garish, the color shifts in the eye shadow were too stark, and the lipstick was too glittery. It probably would have worked fine on stage and I was absolutely enthralled with it at the time, but my sense of self has mellowed with time and I prefer much more subtlety these days.

I showed up at work and everyone I ran into was stunned speechless. Even though I won a prize for "funniest" costume, it was a bit disheartening because I certainly didn't mean it to be funny. I had tried extremely hard to pass and the costume was a perfectly professional business-style look and not something with sexual overtones. Deep down it was a disguised coming-out exercise with my coworkers and I dearly wanted to make a good impression. One of the secretaries recounted what happened when she first saw me...she recognized me immediately and called out my name, and she said that my face dropped a mile in disappointment. Obviously my feelings revealed my true wish to no longer be seen as my old self. Fortunately, I learned later that there were other people who saw me at a distance and simply dismissed me as a woman dressed up as a flight attendant. They added that they regretted not having a clue and missing the opportunity to see me close up.

So all in all, it wasn't a bad debut and not knowing any better I made the rather blunt and clear statement about myself that first year...a desire to be tasteful and classically feminine.

Halloween 1999 would be a significant year in that any uncertainties my coworkers might have had about my gender identity would be pretty much resolved. To date I'd only dressed up twice: once as a male character and once as a flight attendant. 1999 would cast the tie-breaking vote in their eyes (unless I came in something completely androgynous).

I was actually considering something other than a female character because I was eager to do something heavy on special effects. However, during 1999 my gender identity matured significantly. I had benefited from lots of counseling, and what used to be fretful closeted attempts at dressing and preferring hyper-feminine clothes had eased into a self-acceptance of a deeper feminine self that wasn't tied as much to an extreme presentation. In the past I kept myself at arms' length from the dressing, at least mentally, because the woman I saw in the mirror was someone else. I think that was part of the power of the extremely feminine and almost trashy style I'd adopted early on. This arrangement allowed me draw some kind of connection with the female image yet also let me dismiss the dressing as belonging to someone else.

Going out once a week for social and support group meetings helped change this mindset immensely and I reached a new level of self-acceptance and self-identity. I was starting to integrate my whole self...the inner self, and the outer self...into a complete person. Given this improved state of mind, I was quite comfortable doing another female character. I was also comfortable not going as far to try to be extremely feminine and passable. This was actually the year that it would be a fun costume in the true Halloween sense, and keeping with my style for the intense and the gory, I chose to be Steven King's Carrie.

I rented the video and took careful notes of the details of the prom and her outfit. I searched far and wide for the spaghetti strap satin slipdress that Carrie sewed herself but I was unable to find anything that matched. So in true Carrie style, I spent time at the fabric store flipping through pattern books (and got lots of curious stares), bought a pattern and lots of cream colored satin, pulled out the sewing machine and read the user's manual, and sewed my first dress. It wasn't the best job, but no one would notice the little mistakes, especially since it was going to be drenched in blood red paint. I also made a little wrist corsage to complete the outfit. My confidence level was high that year. With a greater sense of an innate feminine self, I didn't feel the need to do a glamorous makeup job on the outside. I simply put on a really light foundation and some subtle lipstick. Carrie's hair was straight, so I let my long hair hang straight too. I slipped on the dress, poured a cup of fake blood all over my head and arms, and went to work.

The costume was a hit and had that confounding mix of femininity and gore that would keep everyone guessing again as to whether I was after the shock value or whether I was trying to dress as a woman. Actually, the answer is pretty simple...it's both. I admit it, I'm a bit bent. One lady commented on my great figure but at the same time she found herself cringing at all the blood. This was the right costume for me...it expressed a newly found feminine confidence and it was fun.

By Halloween 2000 I'd been at this TG business for a couple years and my makeup and dressing skills had improved dramatically. There was little doubt in my mind that I'd do another female character...if there was any question about my gender identity in my coworkers' minds, it would be completely gone after this year. I had a number of costume ideas in mind, ranging from an extremely feminine and disturbing Goth look to a demon-creature of some kind with lots of glowing special effects, but I decided to return to the classics and do the lead female character from Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds.

I hit nearly every thrift shop in town and finally found a 60's style peacock-colored ladies suit. The craft stores had inexpensive and very realistic birds made with real feathers, and my favorite costume shop provided me with ample blood. I wired the birds to the suit, glued a bunch of loose feathers here and there for that chaotic, battered look, reluctantly slashed the suit with a razor blade, and covered it with blood. In the morning I did my makeup, went to a salon and had my hair pinned up in a slightly poofy and elegant do, slipped on the suit, and added a bunch of blood to my face, neck and legs. It was truly an awesome costume...sophisticated and disturbing...that same perplexing combination.

By now my reputation was well known and lots of people came by to see the costume. I won prizes and had lots of fun talking to my coworkers and watching their faces as they surveyed the outfit, noticed my legs, and cringed at the bloody birds shredding my neck. I think what was most significant about this year was that I had a real sense of self-determination and control. I wasn't afraid of anything, I knew I could accomplish what I wanted, I knew I could achieve an elegant and technically impressive costume, and I wasn't afraid of asking anyone for help. It was fun of course, but what simply looks like fun to everyone else is actually a combination of fun and self expression and the liberating realization that the self that I'm presenting is sneaking past everyone's usual defenses because of the holiday.

Some people say that it's good to be strong and not dependent on the opinions of others to define our self worth; that's the attitude that many of us have to take in order to survive the abuse heaped upon us. I've tried to avoid defining my worth in terms of what other people think since it pretty much means I lose control of my dignity. But being the social animals that we are, it's somewhat unavoidable to need some kind of acknowledgment in society. If I took the independence argument to the extreme and dressed entirely in the closet, I don't know if it makes sense to say that I'm feminine, since a great deal of what defines gender is the different social interactions that arise from being pegged as being male or female. Can I claim a feminine gender if no one is around to treat me as female? Although my closeted dressing experiences in the past may have initially met some kind of feminine image that I had established in my own mind, I find little meaning in expressing my femininity in private anymore. (Of course, I respect anyone's need to do things in private for whatever reasons they may have.)

That day I made sure I stopped by the costume shop to chat with the ladies who had helped me. The shop is tiny and was crowded with customers making last minute costume purchases and many people took notice of my costume. One of the ladies who worked there related this conversation she had with a customer after I left the shop:

Customer: "That woman you were talking to had a great costume."
Clerk: "Believe it or not, that was a man."
Customer: "Really?!!
Clerk: "Uh huh"
Customer: "Where did the wig come from?!?!"
Clerk: "That's his own hair."
Customer: "No way...no way..."

Needless to say, I was left with a nice warm glowing feeling when I heard that story.

2001 was a dud year and I didn't do anything at work because things were too busy. This was the year that practicality finally sunk in. Because I didn't have a whole lot of time, I ended up assembling a fairly conventional outfit from bits and pieces collected at the Halloween shops and the mall. I'd found some spiderweb lace separates which, by any measure, qualified as fairly risque. Not wanting to be quite that exposed, I decided some kind of cover would be needed. I had seen some really nice lace numbers in the clothing catalogs that year and decided that a gothic lace duster would be appropriate.

I wandered into the fabric store and spent a fair amount of time carefully going through all of the pattern books. It probably struck some of the women as odd, me being a geeky guy in the fabric store, but I was on a mission and I didn't let it bother me. It turns out that there are quite a few Renaissance and vintage styles in the pattern books these days and I had no trouble finding a bell-sleeve duster pattern that worked perfectly. I bought about 5 yards of Spanish lace and spent the next couple nights getting to know the sewing machine again.

On Halloween night I joined my friends at a coffee shop just outside the Southcenter shopping mall. We chatted, caught up with each other, and prior to heading off to the big party at a local museum we decided to take the traditional stroll through the shopping mall. I also needed to return some stuff that I had bought earlier at Nordstrom's and we all thought it would be fun to try to do a little window shopping in costume.

We caused quite a stir in the mall but I was also struck by how many people didn't notice us at all. I suppose people have their agendas and don't always pay attention to their surroundings, but I was surprised by how often I, the forest fairy princess, the little-girl-in-petticoats, and one fairly normal looking girl in a casual black dress could walk right by whole crowds of people without causing anyone to skip a beat in their conversations. Once in a while some guy would clue in and give a cat-call and then everyone else would suddenly look, but if there's a lesson to be learned here, it's that people really are self-absorbed and if you simply look bland and blend into the background, no one will notice you or care.

Things at the office were rather subdued during 2002. Nobody was hanging Halloween decorations or talking about coming in costume but I decided I would do something (after talking it over with another woman in my group who agreed to do a costume too). The big question for this year was what territory remained to be covered? I decided to do something simple and not laden with blood, gore, or special effects. This would, of course, take away one of the most obvious elements that make it hard for others to separate the Halloween and gender aspects of my costumes, but I went ahead anyways. I did the SpiderGothGirl outfit again, but this time with a black fitted floor-length velvet duster with a marabou collar and single button at the bust. The duster covered everything when I stood still, but when I walked the duster would part and reveal a lot of leg. This outfit is extremely suggestive, but at the same time very classy.

I stunned my manager when I popped into his office to ask a question and he complained momentarily that I had once again fooled him into thinking that a woman was standing there asking him a question. The women in the office all said I looked great and the men struggled to find ways to compliment me without sounding too complimentary. I also found that many people simply did not recognize me at all. I had to get right in their faces and wave and say hello until they started paying attention to me and then when the realization hit, that's when they'd get all bug-eyed. One of the managers I talked to that day commented that my mannerisms were uncannily appropriate to my appearance, which this year was far less costume and far more just me being me. I took that as a compliment, as well as an affirmation of the emotional transformation that takes place when I let my walls down.

The most significant event that day was the fact that I had a presentation to give to several senior executives. My managers knew what I was wearing and did not say anything to me about changing my clothes. In fact, they were eager to see how the executives would react, so I went into the meeting as SpiderGothGirl. The presentation was a success, the team was complimentary, and I left with a good feeling about how people treated me. These people appreciate my work, and were willing to overlook the appearance of the "messenger". There was only one negative incident the entire day from one man who muttered something under his breath about "taking diversity to the extreme", but overall, I was very pleased with how things turned out.

I did spend a few weeks preparing a completely different costume for an evening party as well. I finally decided to really delve into some heavy special effects and build a costume around a blue ballgown that I had picked up at a thrift store. I was going to be a sea goddess (Alcyone, "she who brings death to life and life to death", seemed to be the most appropriate). With an image of Venus-on-the-half-shell in mind, I set out to create a costume with an elaborate clamshell and luminescence. Coincidentally, I stumbled upon a horoscope after I had started assembling my costume and it also recommended that I go as royalty.

The clamshell needed to be foldable so that I could get through doors. I spent a fair amount of time designing and building a surprisingly lightweight assembly consisting of pivoted, curved piano wire ribs mounted in a tiny base the size of a coffee coaster. A fabric shell of 4 layers fit over the ribs: white silk on the outside, then black ripstop, then more white silk, and a sheer pearl layer. The inner pearl layer was lit with undulating red/green/blue LEDs for a rippling and glowing effect and the black layer kept the outside of the shell mysteriously dark. I completely botched the first batch of fabric because I made the mistake of cutting straight-edged pie slices for the clamshell. It wasn't until later that it dawned on me that, like the sections of a basketball, the clamshell sections needed to have bulging sides. I had to pull out a piece of butcher paper, a straightedge, a calculator, and worked more trigonometry than I ever had on the job to figure out the exact shape of the slices that would fit the concave ribs.

Additional blue LEDs were under the ballgown skirt to make me glow like a street racer, and fabric sea plants and anemones were attached all over. A hairstylist friend of mine did a gorgeous fantasy hairdo. Although the whole thing looks pretty unexciting in a flash photograph, it really did look awesome in the dark. However, with the clamshell being 5' wide, moving around was very impractical and dancing was utterly impossible.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of time to perfect or test the costume and the attachment between the clamshell and the belt broke when I arrived at the party. (Reminder: epoxy is normally pretty good stuff, but it doesn't stick very well to vinyl and in 20 degree weather it does not tolerate bending at all.) I was very disappointed and about to abandon the whole thing but I had a hot glue gun in the car and with a burst of determination, I hauled all the parts into the party. A girl helped me find an outlet and we repaired the contraption well enough to last the night.

Halloween 2003's costume design efforts started out on a completely different track than what you see here.

I was planning on doing a certain favorite movie character and a sidekick but ran into a number of technical difficulties. Suffice it to say that reverse engineering a dress pattern from an existing dress in order to have the freedom to create a completely new layout consisting of complicated curving panels is not easy. The sidekick had to be extremely lightweight to look like it was floating on air and keeping it rigid enough to support lights and a battery was much more difficult than I thought. After much thought and a few false starts, I gave up on that costume and with little time left before Halloween, I had to come up with something new.

I recycled a formal gown I found at a thrift store (beautiful gown by the way...I love the pleats down the left thigh), fashioned an elaborate headpiece with wraparound florets, sewed on some golden Grecian trim, added some additional draping pieces of fabric, drew an iconic sun on my forehead, and became a sun goddess of some sort. A guy from work was at the EMP Bump party and said it was a great combination of "European couture meets middle America"...clearly this guy has a fashion eye that rivals those of the Queer Guys' Fab Five.

I'm getting better at this costume design stuff because there were no survivability issues at all this year. Although the headpiece was complicated and heavy (and included a gold netting fall that reached down to my butt), it stayed put the whole night (the headpiece was firmly glued to a hair comb which was stabbed into a row of very tight ponytails...there was no way that headpiece was going anywhere it shouldn't have gone). The drapes were attached to wrist straps with velcro and the few times that I snagged a railing or someone's arm simply resulted in the drape harmlessly tearing away from my wrist. The headpiece was made of these fern-like silk plant pieces that came with a thick layer of gold glitter already applied (a year later I'm still finding gold glitter all through my car). However, driving was very difficult because the seat had to be lowered to "sleeping" position.

The location of the photo is at the same curving staircase at the EMP Liquid Lounge where the spider-gothgirl photo was taken.

Everyone gets to see a bonus costume in 2004!

The way the calendar worked out, with the Emerald City meeting on Thursday, the Bump on Friday, plenty of other parties on Saturday, and Halloween on Sunday, it would have been possible to attend at least 4 straight days of parties (if I had the energy). As it was, just doing two parties and one new costume was more than enough.

I revisited the flight attendant schtick for the Emerald City party. I was able to pop this costume together in minutes, literally, even though none of the original clothes from my first flight attendant outfit were still around. The hardest part was scrounging up a plastic tray and all the coffee accoutrements. The coffee break room and cafeteria at work provided most of what I needed. The plastic tray came from my neighborhood Value Village thrift store...I think they know me too well because when I went through the line, the lady just waved me through and didn't even make me pay! One of the Emerald City ladies at the party worked for an airline and she said I nailed the costume right on. Ahhh...never underestimate the power of a gaudy scarf.

The real party, once again, was the Bump and this year I spent a week planning and sewing the costume I had wanted to do the previous year: Sally from Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas". However, I was still running into difficulties making a good Zero (the ghostly floating dog with the glowing Rudolph nose). But then I realized that Zero belonged to Jack and not to Sally, so I quickly came up with a prop more appropriate to Sally. A quick trip to the Value Village enabled me to find a little stoneware jug with a cork, and with some dry ice from the grocery store, I created Sally's jug of "Fog Juice" that she used in the movie to try to foil Jack's Christmas sleigh ride.

I paused at my favorite costume shop to show my creation to the owner and she got a big kick out of it. A little girl in the shop asked me if I was going to leave all the makeup on and sleep in my costume until Halloween actually arrived...that was totally adorable. I guess that's the very childlike wonder I'm refusing to let go.

Even though I planned things out a lot better this year, sewing this dress was still extremely difficult. But, for those who know the movie, they recognized me as Sally, so I guess I succeeded.

And you may have noticed that over the last couple years, I really haven't talked about anything related to gender at all. Has the journey settled into a comfortable state? I think so. It's nice to know that Halloween has simply become *fun*!