The younger generation...

We went to Shits and Giggles last night at club 740. Taleen and I arrived to nearly empty club that reminded me of the old days of arriving at 7969 before the 11:00 rush of trannies of all stripes, but mostly working girls. I drank my Red Bull and lime and looked forward to dancing as we bathed in the throbbing beat emanating from the muscular sound system;I guessed it had to be around 115dBA, which is about 1000 times above the safe threshold for hearing(God, I'm turning into such a geek).
Taleen and I both looked good,and Taleen had this incredibly cute pair of boots on; we looked like girls out for a night on the town, which is exactly what we were. A male friend from old days (he'd been my private guest at the SH a few times) sat down with us and we caught up a little. My friend ran a club for Trannies for a while; the world's most thankless job. Two of his friends showed up, girls in the Trans-pupae stage; they may turn into drag queens, crossdressers or transsexuals, as yet undetermined. They both were wearing less than perfect wiggage and the classic trans-adolescent short dresses that provide easy access for admirers and require immense skill when sitting to show less than 1/4 of a butt cheek.Their shoes were, of course, four-inch heel torture devices. The larger of the two girls had a great spirit about her that reminded me very much of my giggly, happy wide-eyed tranny-messness when I was in the same stage. She also had that Rubensesque, cuddly R.Crumb girl sexiness to her that I had in spades(see photo)back in tha day. Just from the way she carried herself, I could see the future woman through the hot mess; she'll go all the way with this whole thing, bless her heart.
Embracing oneself in the Earthquake of transgender is difficult, but there's really not much to hold onto besides that; it makes us stronger, I hope. I felt like her older sister who wanted to take her aside and tell her that her dress was probably designed as a top to be worn with jeans or leggings, but good job finding something that cute in a size sixteen. I once wore a tube top as a skirt, so I throw no stones; the photographic evidence of my fashion naivete' is stunning and overwhelming.
I wish her love, peace, happiness and employment. Oh, and I wanted to tell her friend not to wear a cheap, skinny red sequined waist cincher/belt with a black and white print dress;it was a Christmas nightmare on Carnaby Street.
Meow.