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Chapter 3
I called Marilyn the next morning, before I left the motel. She told me that there was a car park on Portland Terrace, not far from the office, and to park there if I got to Southampton before the office closed. She would contact Gloria to get another key cut for the house and the office for me. I took my time going east, my car wasn’t as swift as Marilyn’s.
I used the GPS on my phone to guide me to the car park, then locked up to walk the short distance to the office. When I walked in, I was mobbed by the girls, who all wanted to know why I was back so early. I told them about the police and the fact that my old home wasn’t available to me anymore. I mentioned that I had my easel and some pictures in the car, and both Monica and Sally volunteered to help me bring them up to the work room.
I carried one picture and the easel, while they carried a picture each. Both thought that they were nice. I explained that they were designed to be sold at a market, to the tourists, which was why they looked like picture postcards. The ladies in summer dresses appealed to them, as it did to many of the purchasers.
In the office, we put the easel up and I put one of the pictures on it, leaning the other two against the wall. Now I had them here, I didn’t want to hang them in the house, as they were a throwback to a past version of me. I was still trying to work out what the present version of me was going to be.
Gloria gave me the keys and told me about the code for the alarm system in the office. I told them that I would see them when they got home and went back to the car to find my way to the house. There, I unloaded everything and took it all up to my room. I knew that I would start working hard in the morning, but tonight I felt as if I had arrived home again. Just a few nights here and it felt right. I changed into my running gear and went out for a run in the park, catching up with the girls as they were walking home and walking with them.
That evening we went to the ‘Angel’ and I finally caught on to the system. Because they were all watching their weight, they only ordered child serves, which dropped the meal price. It was allowed because they were very regular regulars, and I was added to the list when the management was told that I was now working with them and would be there when they were. Mind you, when the meals did come out, I think that there must be a little more than what a child would have.
I started creating the autumn catalogue, with Gloria telling me that the six of us would be the sole models for the drawings, and that I had to create a feminine version of me as one of the models. I thought that it was a funny way to go about things but didn’t want to upset my employers. I had to rework some of the ones I had done last week, but that was no problem. Every picture had the head with a curl hanging past the ear. It became a link to the whole range.
It took another three weeks before the autumn catalogue was ready to be approved, and I needed to start on the winter one. By that time, I had been paid, as we were paid fortnightly, and had stayed late some afternoons to work on a couple of canvases I had bought. There was the one of Monica that she asked for, but it was a full-length picture of her from the party dress section of the catalogue, without the curl. She offered me money for it, but I gave it to her.
The other picture was one that would never leave the work room. It was my version of a feminine me, also from the catalogue, as close to my own features as I could make it. It was the me that I had wondered about; the me with curly hair and a smile. The girls would often tell me that I could be just like her, but it never went any further than that. My hair, though, once straight, and lank, now had body and bounce, which I was told made me look like a pop star. Which one, they never told me.
The catalogue was printed and sent to the shops. The next time we went to West Quay shops, Josie gave me a big hug and a smacker on the cheek, much to the enjoyment of the others. She asked me why I wasn’t in a dress, so I told her that the catalogue was artistic licence. She told us that she had loved it, and the new range, and didn’t mind moving the shop around for the launch. Gloria offered our services to help, as the moves were done on a Sunday. With my next pay, I had a little bonus for the catalogue, which we were told had been well received by everyone.
I started on the winter catalogue, being instructed that the models would all have the curl again. I thought hard about keeping the momentum going for the colder weather. The winter range had a big selection of winter coats. I came up with, ‘There was a girl with a curl, she shivered when winter did open. When she was in, she wore Hook with a grin. When she went out, she wore Hokem’.
As there was a good break between this campaign and the spring one, Robert loaned me a car to drive, with a boot full of the catalogues, a company credit card, and a list of all the shops. It was to be my introduction to the franchisees. The shops were mainly in the southern part of the country, having started out in all the harbour towns. A lot of them were along the coast, with the others stretched out between Liverpool and Boston, the newest ones being in inland towns. In Plymouth, I went to see my parents so that they could take in the newer version of me. I gave Mum a catalogue and pointed out the feminised version of me. Dad just called me a poofter and went out to cut flowers. When I heard him start up the weed trimmer, I wondered if he was a little stressed.
I spent most of a month travelling, and it was a great experience. A lot of my visits were positive, and others offered ideas, which I noted for Marilyn. She, of course, saw everyone a couple of times during the year. During that time, I found out that every shop bought from our stock, then was responsible for selling off unsold stock in sales. Then I was back at work, seeing the likely spring products for the first time.
On my travels, I had taken pictures of the places I had visited, often pointed to the scenic views by the shop owners. I had intended to use the pictures as the basis of some landscapes. What happened, was that the spring catalogue was forty pictures of the places where our shops were located, with the girls with curls dressed in the spring outfits, very much like my Plymouth pictures. Each picture had the six of us and was captioned with the location and the address of the shop. The words for that one was, ‘The girl with the curl went tripping, in Hokem and Hook she was skipping.’ By this time, the shops had been evenly divided into Hook and Hokem sides, so I thought it would be an idea to reverse the names.
Robert approved, wholeheartedly, and I was told that the summer range would be in two separate catalogues, one each for the Hook and Hokem ranges, as there had been a lot of interest in the Hokem lines, even with a price difference. I was also instructed that this catalogue should include a photo of each of the actual models, as there had been questions about the six that showed up every time. That was a shock to me. When I had been asked about the six models during my trip, I had just said that they were girls who worked in Head Office. Most picked Marilyn, but nobody had seen the rest in person, except Josie.
I think that it may have been Josie who had suggested it to Rita, when she was in the store. Either way, it put me on the spot. By this time, I had been living with the girls for nearly a year, and we had become good friends. I had been to the gay club, more than once, and had even worn my purple jeans, along with a dark purple top that the girls had bought me for Christmas, which drew no comments, other than how good they made me look. I had come to think that the new version of me was settled.
In the new year, the old Ford was getting very hard to start, so I sold it to a wrecker and put a deposit on a second-hand Ford Galaxy people mover. It allowed the five of us to go anywhere we wanted and had the extra space if I was going to move my easel and canvases around. I had the vague notion that I may go on an artistic road trip one day.
When the summer catalogue was to be started, the file of the offered products arrived, and Gloria organised the photos. I was all for taking them in the office, but the consensus was that we do it properly. Sally and Monica went first, with me being told that the pictures were only head and shoulders, taken at a local studio. They came back with great hair and fully made up. The next day it was Judith and Marilyn. The third day it was to be me and Gloria. I had worn a good shirt and washed my hair, thinking that this was enough. They could always photoshop me to look more like the catalogue pictures.
We went to the salon first. The girl asked us what I needed, and Gloria showed her the latest catalogue, pointing out a picture from the Hokem range, with my look-alike in a cocktail dress and jewels.
“This is what we’re after, the same sort of make-over that you gave the other four. The full works, without the single curl.”
They sat me in a chair and covered me from the shoulders down, the proceeded to do their best to transform me. I know that I had done that painting of a feminine me, but that wasn’t possible in real life, was it?
We were there two hours and when I saw Gloria, I thought it was two hours well spent. When I saw myself, I was truly amazed. They had, indeed, recreated my picture in the catalogue. I had been waxed on the face, had my eyebrows shaped, been given earring studs in new holes, and made up. It was my hair that almost made me cry. I was no longer a straight-haired guy – from the neck up I was all girl, with a full head of curls.
We went straight from there to the studio, where I was given a girls top to replace my shirt, and we were photographed from many angles. I didn’t mind that part, I found it quite restful. It was when we were going to go back to the office which caused me to ask Gloria the question that was on my mind.
“Gloria, this is a very strange situation for me. I’ve done this to fulfil my duty to the company, and I know that the pictures will go in the next catalogue. Right now, though, I look female from the neck up. Are we going back to the salon to have all this removed?”
“Tristan. What you have done is difficult to change back. The holes in your ears will take months to heal up, you now have plumped lips, your eyebrows are definitely a woman’s, and they gave you a perm, so your hair will be curly for the duration. It will be easier if we transform the rest of you to suit. The salon is expecting you back, and Josie had donated a complete outfit for you. She told us that you’ve been on the fence long enough, it’s time you found out life’s like on this side. The way you are with us, you’re more than halfway there.”
I stood there for a moment. This could have been the pivot point in those stories I had read. I had thought, at the time, that this sort of transformation was impossible. Today I had seen myself in a mirror, and also seen the pictures that had been taken. I had two choices, try to carry on as I had been, but looking totally silly; or go all the way and see where it leads.
“You win, Gloria, let’s do it.”
“I think it’s you who will be the winner. We had a talk about this yesterday, and we think that you should be called Trixie.”
So, we were back in the salon, where they worked below the neck, and it wasn’t much fun. The thing that surprised me most was that the running and eating properly had given me a waist that was almost the same size as the girls. No wonder those Hook jeans fitted better. By the time I was having a mani-ped, Gloria was back with a couple of bags. There was more than a dress there, and I learned just what those writers had described when it came to shapewear and underwear. By the time the dress and shoes went on, I had the idea that this had been carefully planned.
I was allowed some time, walking around the salon, before we left to return to the office, me now carrying a bag with my old clothes in, as well as another bag with products that had been used on me, with instruction sheets. We needed to walk along Above Bar Street, and I fully expected laughter and derision. What I was confronted with, though, was lustful looks from guys in the street as we strolled along. We stopped at the café we usually had lunch at, and I was called ‘miss’ and ‘luv’.
“This is a test, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Trixie, and you’re passing in more ways than one. In your time living with us you have absorbed the way we talk, the way we walk, and a lot of other things. The way you automatically swept your dress as you sat down for one. Admit it, this is what you were really thinking that first day you poured your soul out to us in the park. You’ve wanted to be a woman for years, it’s just that you were too scared to try it.”
“I suppose that’s why I painted that picture of me as a woman.”
“That was the big clue. There’s something you should know. Robert is planning something totally new for Hook and Hokem. He wants us to model, in the autumn outfits, at a fashion show. There will be just the six of us, bringing the next catalogue to life. I think that he wants future ones to be part drawings and part photos. So, prepare yourself for a newer version of you, one that may keep you this side of the fence.”
“I’m not sure, Gloria, but I’ll give it a try. I never thought that you could transform a guy into a girl, but, today, it happened to me. I’ll do my best not to make a fool of myself. It must be lunch time, here come the others.”
When they came in, there were squeals, hugs, and cheek kisses. With me adding my own input. We sat and had our lunch, with me now feeling that I wasn’t insulting my gender by eating a salad. When we finished, we walked back to the office, with me carrying the bag of my old clothes into my room. I got a mirror and set it up beside my painting to compare my present look with what I had painted. There were triplets in the room, me, my reflection, and the painting. It was uncanny.
That afternoon, I started on the summer catalogues. I did the usual scanning and printing of all the products and did quick pencil drawings on every one of them over the next two weeks. I would find the picture that fitted the aspect later and add it. The first day, I worked in the dress I had been given. On weekends I went shopping with the girls and I ended up with a whole new wardrobe, all from Josie, who gave me discount on the discount, for being a big customer. I had a range of skirts and tops and had been to the Edge and Box fully dressed, where the only comment I got was from one of the usual guys, who said, “About time!”
As five girls, we started to go to other venues, and it was then that I was subjected to groping when dancing. I wasn’t sure if I was angry when a particularly handsome guy was dancing with me. I was embracing the life of a girl, encouraged by the others. I didn’t get to snogging, it wasn’t my thing, but Sally sometimes came home the next day. A few times, Monica and I went to pop shows together, and we were like a couple of sisters.
The photos were in the two catalogues, on the bottom of double pages where every outfit had the one girl featured, with the names. That made ten pages in each catalogue, plus another ten without the picture at the bottom. It wasn’t long after that when we started getting fan mail addressed to the office. That was an outcome that nobody had expected. Every time one came for me, Gloria would make a big thing of it, and I had to read it out loud. Some got quite explicit, and we often were sitting with tears running down our faces from laughing.
I had thought that when I had a holiday, I would go off for a painting trip, but, when it came around, I spent two weeks in the back room, painting pictures from sketches that I had drawn over the past few months. I had seen likely pictures when we had all been out clubbing, with pictures of bodies gyrating, in vivid colours. They resembled cubism in appearance but were realistic representations. At the end of that time, I had nearly thirty paintings that I didn’t have a market for.
Gloria told me not to worry, and on my first day back working on the autumn catalogue, I was visited by Henry Morrison, the guy from the big gallery not far from the house. When Gloria introduced us, she told him that Trixie had been producing our new catalogues and had developed the advertising thread that we now had.
He looked at the pictures I had produced, while I worked on my proper job. He commented on the painting of me as remarkably life-like, and the three paintings I had brought from Plymouth as ‘deliciously naive’. I did explain that I had been selling them in a market in Plymouth to tourists, which was why they only had initials on the bottom corner, where my current output were all signed ‘Trixie’.
He was enraptured by the current pictures, loving how I had captured the movement, but included the details of the outfits, which he thought was from my professional experience. He wanted all of them for his gallery, with his framer choosing the right frames. That evening, after work, I brought the Ford around to the front door, and a couple of the girls helped me carry the pictures down to it. On the Saturday, I went to the gallery rear entrance, and they were unloaded.
I said a thoughtful goodbye to them as I drove back to the house. The showing would be in three weeks, and the five of us would be helping out. I had been living full-time as Trixie for close to two months, and had no problems with it, other than the time it took getting ready to leave the house. The curls had stayed in, just needing a brushing to fluff up, and my skin was improving with the moisturising regime I now followed. I thought, sometimes, about going home to visit my parents on a weekend but had the idea that it may force my father to cut flowers with a chainsaw.
That autumn held a number of firsts for me. It was my first showing, and it went very well. The five of us were in cocktail dresses and bejewelled with bling from the market. The crowd was appreciative, and I was surprised to see Robert and Rita there, with Rita telling me that I was too talented to be working at a day job. I think they bought a couple of pictures, including my self-portrait. I was surprised that my Plymouth pictures sold, if at a lower price than the others, but still ten times what I had been selling them for in the market.
During the drinking and talking, I found myself with Robert and Henry, with Henry wondering what I would do for another showing. Robert offered him the forty originals of the scenic pages from the previous catalogue, which were now in a storeroom. They were, of course, the property of the company, and I was amazed when Robert vowed to split any profit with me.
The showing was a success, with me receiving a substantial cheque some weeks later. Everything had sold, and Henry wanted me to start on some more pictures. He asked me to repeat the Plymouth ones with Southampton views, but bigger. I wasn’t sure I could do it, so told him that it may take a while to produce a show’s worth. He said that it would be for the next summer, so I had plenty of time.
Another thing that happened during our time at the showing, was that a local press photographer was present, and he took pictures of the five of us, as well as individual pictures. He took one of me, beside my self-portrait, which appeared in the review of my works, describing me as a ‘remarkable young lady, a talented artist, and creator of the new range of Hook and Hokem catalogues.’
That one was cut out, framed, and hung in the office for everyone to look at. I put a copy in an envelope, sending it to my mother. She answered with a short letter to tell me that she was going to come to Southampton at Christmas and wanted to know where she could stay. That was going to be interesting, especially when she called me Trixie and her darling daughter. I didn’t expect Dad to be with her. The closest hotel to the house was the Premier Inn. It would be just a short stroll if there wasn’t a railway line in the way, but there was a footbridge. In fact, if she had a room on our side of the hotel, I would be able to send her morse code messages with my bedroom light.
Another momentous event was the fashion show. It was hard work for all of us, slightly harder for me as I needed to walk graciously in heels. I did have good, and heartless, teachers. It was held in the Quay West shops, outside Josie’s shop, where we were to change. It was a Saturday, and we gave two shows, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. All the clothes were from the catalogue, and we mainly wore the ones we had modelled in it. The press was there, as was the local TV station for one session, and we could see ourselves as others saw us, that evening on the news.
That event had far-reaching ramifications. We had a visit from a modelling agency the week after, wanting to sign us all up. Marilyn wasn’t interested, having her family to care for. Gloria and Judith were keenish. Sally and Monica were ready to sign that day and dragged me into the conversation. In the end, the three of us were signed on the proviso that it would not cut into our day jobs.
Marianne Gregory © 2024
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