David harbors a secret inner self. You’re going to love Diana! Enjoy more Mollie Blake here!
It was just two weeks before Christmas when David pulled up outside a small remote cottage in the heart of the New Forest, England. He, or rather Diana, sometimes rented this place to escape. Here, there was no one to hide from. His suitcase was full of flouncy dresses and skirts, sparkly festive tops, sexy lingerie and make-up, with space left for some colourful running gear.
The fresh air of
the forest made running here a lot more endurable than jogging on the treadmill
in the gym, and the eye-catching patterned Lycra and pink bandana made it a lot
more fun.
On the second
morning, clad in tight-fitting black and white animal print Lycra with a length
of tinsel tied around his waist, a shocking pink bandana and gloves to match, and
run-proof(!) mascara with fuchsia lipstick, David set off down the track. Along
the ten mile trail he was accompanied by nothing more than chilly air and
crunching leaves and twigs beneath his feet.
“Hey! Sorry to
interrupt your run but could you do me a huge favour?”
The voice appeared to come from a massive brown dog, and it stopped David in his tracks. Fuck! That’s a big dog.
As ‘Andrea’ examines her feelings events take a sharp turn for the worse. Join my Patreon for just one dollar a month and enjoy the ongoing story of Clothes Maketh The Man.
Preparations for Christmas visitors are creating an air of expectation and excitement around Huckleberry Close this morning, and I couldn’t help noticing that next door people seemed to be stopping by at Marjory’s house looking at the rather imposing Christmas decorations in front of her house. A truly excited sense of seasonal cheer has developed in our little community.
The children have had their last day of school, and inspite of the unseasonably warm weather they are playing in the street and throwing snowballs at one another and laughing. Indeed the festivities this morning spilled over in a rather unusual incident worth recalling. It all started with http://fionadobson.com/match-making-kundli/ rolling into my kitchen at 9 am, a little bleary eyed, looking for coffee and advice.
“Fiona,” she said a little groggily. “I think I may be experiencing hallucinations.”
I did my best to calm her down, as she sat looking worried.
“I swear that Santa Claus in Marjory’s garden just flashed me,” she groaned as she shakily took the coffee I offered her.
Advice from a crossdressing Account Executive for the
company Christmas Party.
I am always pleased to help out my members and keep them on
the right track. With this in mind the following list of thoughts has been
compiled from the experiences and suggestions of some of my valued members.
It is no longer acceptable to sit on the photocopier during the Christmas Party photocopying your bum and handing out prints saying it’s another memo from the accounts department.
When sitting on the photocopier (see #1) do not make the mistake of scanning your bottom and posting it to the company Instagram Account.
Taking a co-worker to the Christmas Party does not count as a first date.
Don’t sleep with the head of Human Resources on the first date (see #3).
Line ups at the STD Clinic are generally shorter during the holiday period.
When asked what you were thinking (See #4), replying “Everyone else has,” is not considered a good reason.
It’s no fun being on antibiotics through the Christmas period.
If you have Christmas Party suggestions please make a point
of sharing them below.
Many years ago… well, three years ago, I started writing the Fiona Dobson newsletters and blog. In the early ones I would embed a Youtube video now and then, that often touched in to the themes of the newsletters. That’s how the Fiona Dobson Playlist came in to being.
I add to it from time to time, even though I rarely include them in the mailings these days. Even so, it’s a fun addition and one I’m not likely to drop anytime soon. So, if you need a little lift, have some fun with this. I hope you enjoy it.
The Christmas season has sneaked up on us. As I write this I am mixing eggnog ingredients in the kitchen, Sylvester is sorting bottles of whiskey, rum and Brandy, the doorbell is ringing and Auntie Kittie has just arrived. I swear she picks up the smell of alcohol from eight houses away and then appears at my front door.
We are
celebrating quite happily here, the Canucks
having just beaten the Senators 5-2 a couple of days ago. Sylvester
is very jovial, and we’ve decided to come up with a special recipe for eggnog.
We are testing some of the ingredients tonight. Sebastian will be along
shortly.
In a few
days I will be posting my recipe and I’ll offer a prize to the best picture
from one of my Patrons drinking Fiona’s Eggnog. The only catch is, yes, you
must crossdressed at the time. So, look out for that competition in about a
week.
Can you
believe I posted this video three years ago. Yes, it’s been three years. I’ve
been sharing myself with you for that long! I put the dresses in the video as
it all seemed to fit so well. By the way, if you’re looking for winter clothing
ideas you can find some on my Pinterest
HERE.
For those
who are unaware, Bryan is a regular face around Vancouver. He told me once he
wrote a song for me – When You’re Gone – because he thought I was
dashing off from Vancouver to Montreal so often. Really, what a silly boy! I
suppose one can hardly blame him. It’s awfully busy out there on the road
touring all the time and I expect he does get a little lonely.
If this
message is a bit disjointed it’s because I’ve just had to explain to Auntie
Kittie that the recipe we’re working on calls for Rum, Whiskey, Brandy or
Bourbon. The issue seems to be the word ‘or’. She’s looking a little peekie.
Well,
perhaps we should turn up Bryan and ask Mistress Meg, Katia, Marjory and Amanda
to come over and join us. Things are disintegrating swiftly. Ali is outside
admiring his Smart car. In an effort to keep with the seasonal spirit he’s been
looking for some reindeer antlers to attach to the front of the vehicle. I
mentioned this to Sylvester, who has lent him a rack of moose antlers from a
bull moose he shot in the Yukon a couple of years ago. The only problem is that
the antlers may be bigger than the car. Not to worry. It certainly looks
impressive. Very festive.
Be sure to keep a look out for the Christmas Eggnog competition. It’s open to all my Patrons, and the prize will be Premium Program membership.
It’s going to be a very long weekend. Before I get into the ‘why’ let me first wish you the happiest of Thanksgiving weekends, if you are in the US, and if not, you know my thoughts are with you anyway.
I would also ask you to share this as widely as you dare, as I am trying to build followers. I appreciate your help. Let me adjust my skirt and tell you what this is all about. Being a crossdressing advertising executive does give me something of a unique perspective on things.
Now, the weekend. It all started when I overheard Joe, at the advertising agency, saying very intensely into his phone, “when it comes to feminine hygiene products, I’m your man!”
I am often asked by my members how they can hope to find a
woman who will dress them. Many times, I tell them, they’ve probably already
done so. They just don’t really know how
to identify them, or how to talk to them.
I was remarking to Bernard, my photographer, recently that
there seems to be a curious link between crossdressing, divorce and death. We
were returning from a photoshoot for a client with a well known fashion
business, having photographed the new Spring Collection in anticipation of next
years marketing.
“I’ve never been divorced,” said Bernard. “Marriage is one
institution I have not had the pleasure of enjoying.”
I glanced at him as we moved slowly through the city
traffic. I tried to see if he was being sarcastic.
“Well, the term ‘enjoyed’ is not the first that springs to mind,”
I said.
“Is your wife back from her trip yet? Where was it, again?”
“Kalamazoo. Or Katmandu. One of those places.” I replied a
little testily. “There really are a remarkable number of my members who seem to
return to their love of crossdressing following divorce. I wonder why that is,” I said.
“Well,” said Bernard, “I suppose following divorce in middle age one is forced to re-evaluate things. You know, be a little introspective.”
I was talking to my good friend Sylvester this morning and
he asked me what I thought the most important thing was for my members.
“Well, of course it’s the stories,” I replied.
“No, I mean what are they looking for?” he said, holding one of my hand made coffee cups in his giant paw. I have a good friend who makes them.
“Sylvester,” I said. “This is remarkable. You’re thinking
‘conceptually’. That’s incredible. It’s as though the fridge had made the leap
to being self aware!”
“Huh?” He replied.
Before thinking that perhaps I should check up on Skynet I
pushed forward.
“I think what they really want is a safe and non-judgemental
space. Somewhere they can come and find something of themselves.”
“Ahhhh….” He said. It’s very puzzling when Sylvester takes such a cerebral interest in things. He really does have a good heart, but deep thoughts about existentialism are, to say the very least, alien to him. Even Hannibal, my dachshund, has a greater grasp of some complex thought processes than Sylvester.
I could not help noticing, whilst driving home from the advertising agency the other day, the names on the back of vehicles. The model names of vehicles are of interest to me, from both the branding perspective and what it tells me about the drivers.
Have you been reading ‘Clothes Maketh The Man‘? Enjoy the ongoing serial now in its third year.
A therapist member of mine recently pointed out to me that
several of their erectile dysfunction clients did indeed drive muscle cars, in
more than one instance a Hummer. Frankly I feel anyone driving a Hummer should
be on their knees begging forgiveness from their children as the pump heat into
an increasingly fragile environment. On the other hand, given the erectile dysfunction
issues associate with Hummer ownership theirs a good chance that having
children is one complication these thoughtless tools will not have to concern
themselves with.
Sylvester, on the other hand has shunned the muscles cars
and even removed the photo on his office wall of him posing with his Dodge
Penetrator 3000. I am pleased to see him mellowing. I do remember the day he
pulled up outside my house, on his phone calling me to tell me he was there.
“I’m just pulling into your garage,” he said. “No wait, I’m
reversing. Pulling in again… backing up,
and going in again now. Perhaps I should go in the laneway round the back. I
can get the back way, but it’s a bit tight.”
You know, I may have said this before, but Sylvester can be
quite coarse at times.
Personally I like to drive a Buick Vagina. It’s the limited Silhouette
edition. So much more my style. Both feminine and powerful, with the twin turbo
V6 with the cuddle seats option.
Vehicle names and designs do tell us a lot about their
drivers. I noticed a Kia Soul in the traffic as I was driving home, and I can
only speculate that some Korean designer sat down and thought hard about what a
car designed for Spongebob Squarepants might look like, and then took up the
challenge to build it. Ironically the driver of this particular vehicle did
look like a cartoon character.
Sebastian, my vegetarian personal trainer, drives a Kia Hymen when not riding his electric bicycle. His sister, Rainbow, drives a Nissan Slide with a synchromatic gearbox. Amanda drives a Prius, which is entirely predictable, while of course Ali, my gardener, drives the Smart Car with a rifle rack on the rear window, adapted to carry his gardening tools. He’s proud to declare he always shows up with his hoes.
One of my Vancouver members, Lenni, is originally from
Alaska, and proudly tells of her mother having driven a Ford LTD wagon. This vehicle,
with a 7.5 litre engine has the dubious distinction of being capable of hitting
a moose, killing it, and then being able to transport it back to the trailor
park for butchering. I can’t help thinking life in Alaska holds wonders I am
pleased not to have either witnessed or shared.
Instead I think I’ll go and get Sylvester to change the
fluids in my Buick Vagina.
