Transvestia

of his, so that only her things remained visible. Make- up was put on the vanity, shoes beneath the bed and ac- cessories laid carefully in the bureau. Then began the joy of putting on Her things. "skin out, to the 'skin of her teeth". Nails, hair, face, and finally popping a dress over my head, checking the contents of my hand- bag, I went downstairs to the desk laid the key down, patted my hair and said to the manager "Well, how do I look?" He looked up, paused, then down at the key, then up at me and said: "E-rr-r- Ma'am, I 'er'er mean S..r, I mean Ma'am, you'll do. So out I walked, free a s a bird, a lady bird, that is, to begin to see the sights of the town. A good meal at a nice nearby restaurant put me in fine fettle for a lovely stroll over to Fifth Ave. and up to Radio City, enjoying the ultrafashionable store windows as I went. The rest of the afternoon was spent in sightseeing in the huge Rockefeller complex. No one especially noticed the mousey, oldish lady as she wandered about, and in so doing, gave her a vote of confidence.

The next day, bright and early with a good break- fast under my girdle and a handbag and camera on my arm, I headed for the Fair. A 15 minute ride on the subway to the main entrance showed the vast panorama of the great World's Fair of 1964. Every imaginable color, shape and design greeted my eyes. It took at least an hour to be- come oriented and to begin to follow the guide book. First to the House of Good Taste Pavillion where every home making aid one could think of was presented as well as literally hundreds of new ideas calculated to en- hance home living. Taking care to follow the general leaning of other women, it wasn't at all difficult to pass by the marvels of science and very complicated exhibits in which mere men were interested and spend every pos- sible minute in the better living exhibits. All together, most enjoyable. Next, to the Bell Telephone Pavillion where the marvels of communication were explained, so that even a gal could understand them. Thence to the Miss Clairol show, where the "Magic Mirrors" allowed me to see my reflection with every imaginable hair color. I had just about decided that I'd look 15 years younger as a blonde, but at the last minute check out. . So, to a snack bar for something to eat and a rest on one of the many benches scattered about. Chatting with other women doing the same thing brought out the identical