RANSVESTIA

proach out. I never was very good at climbing in and out of windows in a girdle anyway. Looking for a more sensible plan I researched back issues of Transvestia for ideas and came up with several good ones but somehow none of these seemed to fit my particular situation. I needed a cover story a new and different cover story. It would have to be one of my own creation. Finally, after much soul-searching I decided on the brutally frank, direct approach.

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One afternoon two weeks later I found myself entering the dress shop of my choice. I was attired in an ordinary male-type business suit. This store was my target. But I was there to do more than just case the joint. Already a great deal of thought and preparation had been un- dertaken. I had selected this shop for several reasons. First, it stocks clothing I can afford. Most items are priced starting at twenty-five dollars and range upward to one hundred fifty. Occasionally there are sales in which the really expensive suits and dresses go at less than six- ty dollars or even lower if they have been damaged. Secondly, they carry my size and have a large selection of formal and informal dresses, evening wear, and casual clothes as well as smaller selections of the standard accessories such as purses, shoes, scarves, and jewelry. They also carry a limited stock of winter coats and rain coats. Well- known labels can be found in most of the clothing sold there. All of the merchandise is of good to excellent quality. Thirdly, I was familiar with the sales staff and the owner of the shop, having purchased dresses there previously. The owner, an attractive woman in her fifties, per- sonally runs the shop. She had always appeared to me to be a con- genial and tolerant woman who possessed sufficient maturity to at least listen to the proposal I was about to make without going into hysterics. Both members of her sales staff are middle-aged women whom I knew, from previous shopping trips "for my wife," to be helpful, friendly types though rather talkative by nature. In any event my history of past associations with this particular shop reassured me and I felt confident I had come to the right place.

Approaching one of the sales ladies I requested an audience with the boss lady herself. The sales lady disappeared through a doorway and was gone an uncomfortably long time. When she returned she looked at me uneasily and said, "What did you say your name was?" I repeated it using my real name. She was scrutinizing me rather closely now and I was beginning to wilt under her gaze. Was I making a big mistake I wondered? "Are you a salesman?" she queried. Now it was clear why I was getting the treatment. "Oh no," I assured her. "Just a customer and I would like to chat with Miss Bell (not her real name) for

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