Allison M.

A crossdresser's thoughts on life, fashion, fabulousness, and (oh yeah) dressing up


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Some fashion (and some thoughts) for Pride Month 2019

Rainbow shirt and Apt. 9 maxi-skirt

The other day, with a thunderstorm ruining my plans to venture out en femme, I decided instead to head down to my building’s basement.  It’s obviously not the most glamorous locale in my building, let alone the world, but the pale color of the concrete walls that help keep our apartments upright are a nice background for a fashion shoot.

And just what am I wearing here?  Well, let’s start off with the skirt.  Back at Christmastime, I received a nice gift card from Kohl’s department stores.  With the $40 on that card burning a big hole in my wallet by the time spring rolled around, I figured it would be a nice way to help build the summertime portion of my feminine wardrobe.  Luckily, I found a perfect addition in this navy blue Apt. 9 maxi-skirt.

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Dreams of me doing… what?

I’m goin’ back in time
And it’s a sweet dream
— Lyrics from “Best Of My Love” by The Eagles

I was perusing through my mail one day earlier this spring, and lumped with the bills and junk mail was a brochure promoting non-credit continuing studies courses at the University of Wisconsin—Madison.  Admittedly, I have never really considered taking a course to learn something like, say, art or language or (*sigh*) business leadership.  I’ve always thought (foolishly, I admit) that such classes were for those who have the time, money to do so, not to mention the desire to make a great big pivot in their lives.

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The not-so-ordinary mother figures (a Mother’s Day addendum)

I had a feeling when I wrote my previous post about Mother’s Day on Saturday night, I would fail to include a few important (to me) things about the subject matter.  Indeed, I had only made passing mention of three not-so-traditional forms of mothers in this world.  One of those was the single-parent setup, of which I was part of during my very young years:  My mother was a divorcee, and she looked after and provided for both my sister and I on her own for several years.  Even after she remarried, had another child, and took another job, she still cared for us and made sure we were doing alright even with our latchkey kid setup (she worked nights for a while, and Dad was on the road quite a bit).  Things weren’t always hunky dory, but we turned out okay for the most part.

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Allison is witness to a RAID!

As I noted in my previous blog post, I’m skipping participating in the Crazylegs Classic today, mentally recuperating from a very grueling work week.  However…

At least I did take the time to do a little something for me.  Friday night, I got out of the house, hit the town, and considered a significant event that occurred way back in the past.  June 28, 1969, to be exact.

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Image source: Stage Q on Facebook

This year is the 50th anniversary of the famous Stonewall riots in New York City.  As they occurred during an era of social upheaval in the United States (the late 1960s), they are widely considered to be the catalyst of the gay liberation movement and the modern-day fight for LGBT rights and freedoms.

With the golden jubilee of Stonewall upon us, the Madison-based LGBT theater group Stage Q commissioned an original play that reenacts that important night in history.  The result was RAID! Attack on Stonewall, which ends a 7-performances-over-2-weekends run at the Bartell Theatre this afternoon. Continue reading


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Random personal stuff (Easter Sunday 2019 edition)

So, did the Easter Bunny leave you lots of eggs to hunt for?  Did same bunny deliver lots of chocolate for you to devour?  Well, Peter Cottontail skipped my house this year, forcing me to buy all that sugary stuff on my own.  To be honest, though, I do need to keep watching what I eat, so it’s just as well that E.B. passed me by.  Perhaps next year, though.

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A little long and short

This Easter weekend will find me traveling out of town for my family’s holiday to-do.  Naturally, that rules out any chance for me to dress up as Allison and meet up with the CD/TG support I’m a part of.  But at least I had the chance to do so the past two weekends, including a Saturday meeting we had two weeks ago.

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Another one down: Charlotte Russe

If you’ve read some of my blog posts over the past year or so, you’ve sensed a lament of retail fashion and department store outlets succumbing to the pressures of nimble competition and owners who want to make a profit on their investment.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s selling clothes or toys, whether they catered to a younger or older crowd, or even if they were prominent in online sales.  If a store closes up shop, it leaves an empty space in your nearby mall/plaza/whatever, creates queasiness in city and mall managers, and definitely leaves a big pit in an avid shopper’s heart.

Unfortunately, what’s been a leading reason for these stores/chains shuttering is bankruptcy.  It’s been happening with Shopko, which declared Chapter 11 in late January and has announced more than several store closures since then, including their last 3 locations here in the Madison area.  For Shopko, not only is their misfortune the result of withering competition, it also involves keeping lining further the pockets of their vulture private equity owners.  At the beginning of this month, it was revealed that Shopko had to borrow over $179 million from financial lenders to pay dividends and “consulting fees” to the investment firm that owns it.  Some of that money — $13.5 million worth — could have gone to the State of Wisconsin in the form of taxes and other fees Shopko still owes the state.  Yeah, that’s a lot of money, and who knows what Shopko’s fate could be right now if it went to where it should have gone (i.e. the taxman, employees, debtors) instead of the fat-cat owners who want only one thing: A quick return on their investment. Continue reading


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A poem: “Saturday and Sunday”

It’s rather apropos that this poem is being presented on the weekend that the United States and Canada “spring ahead” and set their clocks forward one hour.  The good thing about daylight saving time is that it’s a heralding of warmer and brighter months.  The bad news is that you lose an hour of sleep… and as a result, you’re one hour closer to (*ugh!*) Monday and the start of another long, grueling work week (which I’ve known a lot of recently).

I’ve always thought that Saturday morning is the best part of any weekend.  It’s a time to sleep in, of course, but also a time where you think to yourself two things:  Thank goodness that work week is over and Oh, boy!  I’ve got the next two days to do what I want!  Gee, and to think that once upon a time, all Saturday morning was known for was watching cartoons on TV.

As suggested in the first paragraph, my least favorite part of the weekend is Sunday.  No, it doesn’t have to do with religious connotations.  Rather, it’s the realization that, oh my gosh, this weekend is already half over, and Monday is tomorrow.  Yeah, knowing that a new work week is ahead can dampen one’s enthusiasm for their desired Sunday activities.

“Saturday and Sunday”

Saturday morning
Sleep right in
Only to be awakened
By the bright light of dawn
And with that you arise
Take a deep, happy breath in
And realize the week is done
And it’s a day to relax
To be yourself
And have some fun

Saturday afternoon
All dressed up
Or dressed down, if you want to
You get to do the things you like to do
And all the things you couldn’t do
During that work week now through
So shop or play
Or at home you can stay
Either way, it’s your day
To be yourself
And have some fun

Saturday night
Dressed to the nines
Or not, if you don’t want to
This is your evening
To enjoy yourself as you’ve been meaning
Well, really, desiring
So however you want
It’s your night to rock
Dine in first class
Dance to a beat that’s hot
See a show that’s sterling
Or… maybe just stay home
On your couch a curling
And watch a movie again
Which is fine
Because it’s your way
To be yourself
And have some fun

Sunday morning
Sleep right in
Only to be awakened
By the oh-too-early light of dawn
And with that you arise
Take a deep breath in
And realize something that’s not fun:
Your weekend is half done
You better go ahead
And do those things that need to be done
Take that time to still have some fun
Better hurry, though
For Monday’s about to come
Which starts another five days
That are not all to yourself
Yeah, that’s so not fun

It seems to me
I really must say
As if there are too few Saturdays
And too many Sundays


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#TBT follow-up: From Plan B to…

12-30-2018 1205-30pmOne month ago, I wrote in this post about Plan B, the LGBT-oriented nightclub on Williamson Street that you see in the above photo, and how wound up in a very unflattering light.  To sum up:  Back in December, some drag performers had a cow when club staff forbid them from changing in their usual dressing room.  The queens called out the club on social media, with some of them severing ties with Plan B.  Several other performers and patrons said “I can top that story” and called out club ownership for how they ran the club, one owner in particular for his treatment of staff and customers, and one security staffer for an incident with a black patron.

When the dust settled, Plan B was sold, with founding owner Rico Sabatini returning to take ownership of the club.  It also led to some reflecting of what Plan B became under the previous ownership — that is, a club that was and still is widely popular but lost its original focus of being a safe and inviting haven for the LGBT+ community.

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A character’s definition

Just for a moment, forget the fact that this blog is being written by a male-to-female crossdresser.  Go on, briefly wipe from your memory any indications that I’m an everyday male; cover up those references on your computer screen if you must.

Okay, now that you’ve done that, go back and look at my photos, either the above header or my Flickr feed.  Now, then, ask yourself this:  Am I female?  Well, since I am wearing clothing and hair and makeup that’s associated with being feminine, your usual answer when you saw me would be “yes.”  But would your answer change if I restored to your mind the fact that I was born male?  Or that I live my everyday life as a male?  Or that, being a crossdresser, I consider myself part of the broad transgender community?  And having reminded you of that, would your respect of me as a person change in any way?

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