Why Do We Dress

[Genevieve]

I read online that there are three reasons we might want to dress en femme. It got me thinking what motivates me and keeps me dressing.

The three reasons are:
1. Gender Dysphoria
For some, dressing as a woman is not about choice but about survival. It’s the search for a self that feels authentic when everything inside says the body doesn’t quite fit. Wearing feminine clothing can bring a moment of peace—a sanctuary from the anxiety and pain of disconnection. It can be the first breath of freedom in a life that’s felt too small, too wrong. Professional support and compassion are vital companions on that journey.
2. Gender Euphoria
For others, it’s about joy—the kind that floods in when the weight of expectation lifts. Wearing something soft, flowing, and delicate can quiet the noise of the masculine world and let the soul exhale. It’s not about rejection of the male self, but about finding balance, serenity, and a spark of lightness that feels profoundly right, even if only for a while. The return to masculine form doesn’t wound; it’s simply another side of one’s wholeness.
3. Sexual Kink
Sometimes, it’s pure sensuality—the thrill of silk brushing against skin, the arch of a stiletto, the shade of lipstick that catches the light just right. It’s not wrong or dirty, though society often says so. It’s simply one more way of connecting with one’s body, curiosity, and desire—a personal celebration of what feels beautiful and alive. You feel inclined to indulge in a behavior that is satisfying and exciting.


For me, it began with the third reason and still lives there. During the long, quiet months of Covid, my wife was out working—an essential worker—and I was home, working alone in my office. I would dress daily, then stay dressed. just to see how it felt. Soon, it wasn’t just about clothing; it became a space where I could breathe. I was more creative, more focused, more myself.

On Zoom calls, I’d wear a crisp shirt, a tie, and a jacket for the camera—but below the frame, there was a pencil skirt, stockings, and stilettos. Those moments were mine alone—a secret harmony between who I appeared to be and who I felt like inside. Makeup became less about presentation and more about connection, a quiet act of becoming. The natural look worked well for my on camera presentations, enhancing my look and giving me a confidence boost.

Now, even when I can’t dress as often as I’d like, I keep a pair of stilettos tucked beneath my desk. Sliding them on brings back that spark—that undeniable reminder that creativity, comfort, and identity often bloom in the most unexpected places.

I guess I live somewhere between reasons two and three—between peace and passion, between who the world sees and who I sometimes need and want to be.

[Wesley]

Well, ten years late coming to this party. . .or at least this topic.

First of all, I freely admit, my affliction with crossdressing is in the last catagory, Sexual Kink. Heaven knows I never intended it to become a life long affliction, but it did, and I really had no clue when it was happening. Today, it makes me feel normal!

How it happened:

I am currently 67, born in '59 and from what I have been able to coax out of my memory, sexual maturity (as evidenced by the persistant stiffy, and that Master B thing.) which started just about the time I was graduating Elementry school (6th grade) and the summer before 7th grade. ('70-'71).

A couple of things strangly came togather to conspire to set the stage. First of my older female cousin was having a birthday about that time, and we would vacation in a little town in SW New Mexico called Glenwood. My grandfather had a nice spread there, and there were a couple of boys my age who were the sons of a man who worked for my grandfather.

So apparently the summer of '70 my parents had given my older female cousin the Bikini bathing suit, and apparently she didn't care for it, so she left it in the guest bedroom of my grandfathers place. Coming up to spend the summer with him, I didn't think much about it, UNTIL one day one of the boys was down and we were goofing around and being stupid. . He put on part of the Bikini and dared me to put on the other. I did. . (Now I should admit the boy and I were doing the occasional mutal Masterbation thing, and we did this time too. . )

The difference was later that night after he had gone home, I realized it was quite sexually pleasurable and put the whole Bikini on, and masturbated. . with predictable results. I ended up smuggling it home, and would JO with the suit on after everyone went to bed.

We moved to another local suburb about two weeks into the 7th grade year. Bulling became a problem at school, but my sexual behavior continued. I did have a serious first girlfriend in 8th grade, and remember being over when her mother brought her laundry into her room. . I saw the panties and bra. . .and the temptation was born.

As it worked out, she and her sister had a hidden key to the house. After a date to see a movie one time (the movie was Dillenger), my mother took her home and she got out ran around back and came back with a key, then returned it. Humm. . .dangerous knowledge.

And in a couple of weeks they were gone out of state for a vacation, and I, (as a 14 year old teenager) stopped by one evening, and borrowed the key, went inside and heaven forbid, I "borrowed" a couple of pair of her panties and a couple of 36B Bras. . all fit and were much more sexy than the bikini. Put the key back and apparently the matter was never discovered.

I remember finding some foam rubber and cutting two shapes that were roughly the size to fit the cups. A crossdresser was born. And that behavior has stuck with me for 55 years now.

Of course a few months later my mother found the items and left them out on the table when I came home. . not knowing what to expect. . I expected the worse, But she just asked and then demanded I get rid of them. (she actually did) But they had been an easy find, as I had kept them in the top of a tinker toy can, in my closet, with a lid. She claimed to have accidentlly knocked it over and the things spilled out.

I didn't believer her, but the damage was more or less done. . I was able to secure another bra and panties from another source, but kept them in an abandonded washing maching in the back yard of my next door neighbor. . (who apparently rarely lived there and NEVER went in the back yard.)

The reinforcemnt cycle continued for a few more years and the behavior became my normal. At this point in life, (and since roughly my adulthood) I have had NO DESIRE TO CHANGE. I took up underdressing and the first time at night school was indescrible. . fear of being discoverd but getting away with it. . that probably set the course for my lifelong underdressing. . I still do today, more than 55 years later.

Fortunatly, none of my wives (there were 4 in total) ever complained. I explained the matter to them about the time we became intimate. They even all participated.

Would I change it today? Likely not, even if I could.