Threads of Truth

A Transgender Coming of Age Romance

From the Harmony Aspirant Universe

Chapter 1: Reluctant Threads

By Ariel Montine Strickland

Can Matthew's love of vintage dresses and a temporary job for Grandmother Rose
give them the courage to take the plunge and live as their true self, Kiki?

Copyright 2025 by Ariel Montine Strickland.
All Rights Reserved.

Mathew stood at the threshold, clutching the brass key Rose had pressed into their palm the night before, feeling the weight of reluctant responsibility settle on their shoulders like an ill-fitting coat. The morning light filtered through the dusty windows of "Grandmother Rose's Vintage Dress Shop", casting long shadows across the carefully arranged displays of bygone elegance.

"Just until Laura gets back from her honeymoon," Rose had said, her weathered hands gentle but insistent. "The shop needs someone who understands the stories these dresses tell. You've been doing vintage dress restoration for years. The Denver Living History Club's events have stellar reviews due to your presentation of the dress and the original woman who wore it. All that I'm asking in addition is that you maintain a woman's gender expression all the time instead of just when you are wearing vintage dresses. Can you do that?"

"I think so. I think it would teach me a lot to fully live a woman's life for a while, just like I am for a weekend at the Living History events where I get to really try on her life. I want to do this, so I'll be a girl for you for as long as you need me. I have everything that I'll need at home, so I'll start then. Is that okay, Grandmother Rose?"

Mathew looked with anticipation to Grandmother Rose. She seemed like she was Grandmother to everyone in Denver, but she had taken over that role in their life by the personal interest she took in their life. Grandmother Rose had filled a need in their life left when both their grandmothers had passed. Grandmother Rose always had Mathew's best interest at heart, and they fully trusted her.

"Of course, Mathew. I'll help you with your professional presentation as a shopgirl when you arrive tomorrow. Like your peers say, I've got you. See you tomorrow."

Mathew pushed open the door, the familiar chime announcing their arrival to an audience of silent mannequins draped in decades of dreams. The Baker neighborhood hummed with its usual morning energy outside—coffee shops opening, dog walkers navigating the tree-lined streets, the distant rumble of traffic heading toward downtown Denver. But inside Rose's sanctuary, time moved differently, measured not in minutes but in the careful preservation of memories sewn into silk and satin.

The shop smelled of lavender sachets and old wood polish, with an underlying hint of the vintage perfumes that seemed to cling to the garments like whispered secrets. Mathew had been coming here as a customer since childhood, drawn by Rose's patient explanations of construction techniques and historical context, but working here felt different. More permanent. More like stepping into a role they weren't sure they were ready to fill.

Rose emerged from the back room, her silver hair pinned in its customary elegant chignon, wearing a perfectly tailored 1950s day dress in navy blue with tiny white polka dots. At seventy-three, she moved with the grace of someone who had spent decades understanding how clothing should flow with the body, how fabric should fall to create the most flattering silhouette.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice carrying the warmth that had made her a beloved figure in the neighborhood for nearly fifty years. "I've laid out some pieces that need attention today. Nothing too challenging for your first official day."

Mathew nodded, hanging their jacket on the vintage coat rack near the door. They wore their usual uniform of dark jeans and an oversized sweater, clothing chosen more for concealment than expression. The contrast between their deliberately shapeless attire and the carefully curated femininity surrounding them felt stark in the morning light.

"I still don't know why you think I'm the right person for this," Mathew said, running their fingers along the edge of a nearby display case filled with vintage jewelry. "I know you've been teaching me about restoration, but actually running the shop..."

Rose's eyes crinkled with something that looked suspiciously like knowing amusement. "Oh, I think you understand these dresses better than you realize. Come, let me show you what we're working with today."

She led Mathew to the restoration area in the back, where natural light from a large window illuminated a workspace that looked like a surgeon's operating theater designed by someone with exquisite taste. Magnifying lamps, specialized tools, and spools of thread in every conceivable color were arranged with military precision. On the central table lay a 1940s cocktail dress in emerald green silk, its beaded bodice catching the light like scattered stars.

"This beauty came in yesterday," Rose explained, her fingers hovering over the fabric with reverent care. "The beadwork is original, but some of the silk lining has deteriorated. The owner's grandmother wore it to celebrate V-E Day in 1945. Can you imagine the joy that dress has witnessed?"

Mathew leaned closer, studying the intricate pattern of the beadwork, the way the silk had been cut on the bias to create that perfect drape. Without thinking, they reached out to touch the fabric, then stopped, hand suspended in mid-air.

"Go ahead," Rose encouraged gently. "You can't understand a dress without feeling how it wants to move."

The silk was cool and smooth under Mathew's fingertips, and they could almost sense the ghost of its original owner—a young woman dancing in celebration, the dress swirling around her legs as she spun in her lover's arms. The image was so vivid it made Mathew's chest tighten with an emotion they couldn't quite name.

"The construction is incredible," Mathew murmured, examining the hand-finished seams. "Look at these French seams, and the way they've reinforced the stress points without compromising the line of the dress."

Rose smiled, settling into her chair at the workspace. "That's exactly what I mean. You see what these dresses are trying to tell you. Now, the question is—how do we help this one tell its story again?"

For the next hour, Rose guided Mathew through the assessment process, teaching them to document every detail before beginning any restoration work. They photographed the dress from multiple angles, noted areas of damage, and researched comparable pieces in Rose's extensive library of fashion history books.

"The key," Rose explained, threading a needle with silk thread that perfectly matched the dress's original color, "is to honor the original maker's intention while ensuring the garment can continue to be worn and loved. We're not just fixing clothes—we're preserving the dreams and memories they carry."

As they worked, Rose began sharing stories about the dress's era—the rationing that made silk precious, the way women saved for months to afford a single special dress, the skill of seamstresses who could create magic with limited resources. Her voice painted pictures of a time when clothing was treasured, when each garment represented not just fashion but hope and celebration and the determination to find beauty even in difficult times.

"You know," Rose said, glancing up from her delicate stitching, "I've been thinking that Kiki might be a better name for someone working in this shop. Mathew feels so formal for someone with such gentle hands and an intuitive understanding of what these dresses need."

The needle slipped in Mathew's fingers, pricking their thumb. They sucked in a sharp breath, more from surprise than pain. "Kiki?"

"It suits you," Rose said simply, as if she'd been thinking about this for much longer than the few hours since they'd arrived. "Strong but feminine. Classic but with a modern edge. Like the perfect vintage dress that looks just as stunning today as it did seventy years ago."

Mathew—Kiki—stared at the emerald dress, their heart beating faster than seemed reasonable. The name felt like trying on a piece of clothing that fit perfectly, something they'd never dared to reach for but had always secretly wanted.

"I don't know," they said quietly. "I mean, I'm just helping out temporarily."

Rose's smile was patient and knowing. "Sometimes the most important changes start as temporary arrangements. Why don't you try it on for size? Just for today."

The shop bell chimed, interrupting the moment, and Rose rose gracefully to greet the customer. Kiki remained at the restoration table, staring at the emerald dress and feeling something shift inside them, like tumblers falling into place in a lock they hadn't even realized existed.

Through the doorway, they could hear Rose's warm greeting and the customer's response—a woman looking for something special for her daughter's wedding. Rose's voice carried the particular tone she used when helping someone find not just a dress, but a piece of themselves they'd been searching for.

Kiki picked up the needle again, this time holding it steady as they began the careful work of reinforcing a delicate seam. The name Rose had offered seemed to settle around them like the perfect vintage coat—unexpected but undeniably right. For the first time in longer than they could remember, the reflection in the shop's antique mirrors didn't feel like a stranger wearing their face.

It was time to really embrace being Grandmother Rose's shop girl, not only with the carefully made-up face and sophisticated updo that she'd done from mother's vanity with her full approval early this morning, but also to wear clothing that matched. Umm, she would surprise Grandmother Rose by going through the door leading not into the shop but to the changing area. With the proper vintage foundations, and a dress from the shopgirl's rack, one of the many that Laura always modeled, she could quit hiding herself.

Kiki's hands touched the material on each dress after she walked into the dressing room, confident that she could do this and standing in front of the shopgirl's rack. Laura was generous to Matthew when they had visited this shop as a customer looking for a dress they could wear during a Living History Club weekend event. She had cleared space for Matthew to store the vintage undergarments that they owned in this employee dressing room. With the proper undergarments worn, Matthew and Laura discovered that they were exactly the same size, and from that moment Matthew, like Laura, made the sacrifices to stay that size.

It wasn't until Matthew had joined their mother at breakfast this morning in the pink satin babydoll nightgown they had slept in covered by the beautiful matching robe that Matthew's mother, June, knew for sure that they had not chickened out like had had happened many times before.

"Who are you today, sweetheart?" asked June. June knew that her sometimes son Matthew, sometimes daughter Kiki totally immersed herself in the person they would be portraying outside their home and went by their name until the event ended.

"Just your vivacious Kiki, Mother. I really don't know what name will be on my shopgirl badge, yet. Thank you for supporting me, always as I sometimes blindly feel my way to be myself. I really appreciate you taking time out for Grandmother Rose to interview you on my behalf. Even with me being a favorite customer, I feel like your conversation made me be the person selected for this great chance to do what I love. "

"Always Kiki, always. Remember that Grandmother Rose selected you for you, so whatever name is on your badge just be my mischievous and lovely Kiki in your heart no matter what unexpected challenges come your way today. Please go put on your vintage undergarments and outfit and meet me at my vanity so i can witness my Kiki getting herself ready for the day."

What a joy that I can be the person who I'm being increasing convinced is my true self, and i even get to be called by my own name thought Kiki as she selected the just restored sophisticated black silk evening suit worn by Mary Florence Lathrop, Colorado's first female attorney, at the 1910 Bar Association Gala. The ensemble reflected the growing influence of menswear on women's fashion while maintaining feminine details appropriate for formal evening occasions.

The jacket featured a high-necked design with a small stand collar trimmed in white silk, creating a dignified yet elegant appearance. The jacket's construction followed the newly popular straight-front silhouette of the era, with subtle darts creating a tailored fit without excessive corseting. Long sleeves were fitted closely to the arm with white silk trim at the cuffs matching the collar. The skirt was cut in the fashionable narrow line of 1910, falling to the ankles with a modest flare that allowed for graceful movement. Delicate white silk embroidery in scrolling patterns adorned the jacket front, while small pearl buttons provided closure. This ensemble perfectly balanced the authority required for her profession with the elegance expected at society functions.

Kiki went to the vanity in the room and touched up her hair and makeup after adding her name badge with her name Kiki on a silver medallion suspended on a silver chain around her neck. Admiring her reflection in the mirror, she summoned her confidence and proudly as Mary herself, walked into the showroom floor. Grandmother greeted Kiki with a sideways hug as she presented her to Mary Washington, a great customer.

"Mary, please meet my newest shopgirl, Ms. Kiki. Kiki, please meet my dear friend Mrs. Mary Washington." The two introduced greeted each other with a side hug and air kisses.

Mary said, "I am so glad to meet you, Kiki. Whose dress are you modeling, today? Who are you portraying?"

"I am wearing the ensemble that another Mary, that is Miss Mary Florence Lathrop, wore to the 1910 Bar Association Gala, so for today I'm also Mary." replied Kiki.

Grandmother Rose asked, "So Miss Mary Florence Lathrop, for today, please tell me about yourself?"

"I achieved numerous "firsts" as Denver's first female attorney and the first woman to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court. As a successful lawyer who received many awards including an honorary doctorate from the University of Denver, I would have required professional attire suitable for court appearances and formal legal proceedings. My prominence in Denver's legal community and the preservation of historical markers in my honor suggest that some of my professional wardrobe has survived in legal or family archives." replied Mary as portrayed by Kiki.

"Well, fellow Mary, what can you tell me about how your lovely outfit came to grace us in this wonderful shop?" asked Miss Washington.

"This outfit made its way here by way of an estate sale and was restored by Laura before her wedding and honeymoon." replied Kiki who broke her method acting to answer the question.

Grandmother Rose, "Miss Lathrop, you may take your leave of us and mingle with my other guests present here today."

"I am very joyful to have made your acquaintance here today, ladies. May you find the courage to pursue your own path, whatever that may be. Good day to you both," said Miss Mary as she dropped an elegant curtsey leaving them to go help another of the shop's guests.

Outside, Denver continued its morning rhythm, but inside the shop, surrounded by decades of carefully preserved dreams, Kiki began to understand that some stories could only be told through the patient work of restoration—both of vintage dresses and of the people brave enough to wear them.