ETVC, or The Educational TV Channel, (which is now TGSF, or Transgender San Francisco) was created in 1982. Based in San Francisco, it was established to provide support services for transgender people and educational materials to the transgender community and to the general public. In addition, ETVC provides safe settings for transgender people to meet, hold discussions and attend educational seminars on issues of importance to their community.
I had discovered this group on the Transgender Forum back in 1995, but hadn't worked up the courage to attend a meeting until their End of the Month Social on February 26, 1998.
I had had my nails done the previous afternoon. The tips that I had put on the previous December 31 were getting too long, and one of them, as well as the natural nails on my thumbs, had broken off anyway. So I had tips put on and replaced as necessary, so that my nails were a uniform length. I left the nail salon with clear polish on my nails, and later at home replaced it with the plum colored polish that I planned to wear to the meeting. That night I also prepared my ensemble--the same green dress that I had worn New Year's Eve, (I assumed that the girls at the meeting wouldn't have seen me in it yet!) but with white and faux pearl accessories.
That night I also shaved my legs and other body hair.
On the day of the meeting an unexpected and unwelcome set of visitors arrived at my home, and had to hastily remove my nail polish. I wound up going to the meeting with unpolished nails. I shaved, put on my long-line bra, girdle, and pantyhose, and left for my scheduled appointment wearing green men's pants and a woman's top, covered by the one long woman's overcoat that I had previously purchased. The skies were grey and threatening, and the temperature was cool. I carried my dress, shoes, and other accessories, together with my purse and an umbrella, in a tote bag. I caught the bus to the salon, and stopped for a diet soda before entering.
The salon was empty, except for the owner. She greeted me, and proceeded to wash my hair. Then she wrapped a towel around my wet hair, and I proceeded to the facial table for the first step in my transformation. Then she set my hair to try to achieve the style in a picture that I had brought with me. Only one other client arrived during this process, a man wanting a haircut, who was asked to wait for ten minutes until I was completely rolled up. By then, being draped in a shampoo cape and in makeup, I looked just like another female client. The styling chair was turned so that I was facing the rear of the salon, and a portable dryer was rolled up behind it. I was then placed under it, and given a women's magazine, I believe the February 1998 Bazaar, to read. One article was written by a freelance writer who enjoys writing in bed on her laptop, as I am doing now. She described the joys of satin negligees, her now usual "work" attire.
The owner
was kind enough to take pictures of me both while set and after
the comb-out. I ended up with a teased but still curly style,
with fringe bangs.
I used the salon's large restroom to change. To my dismay, I had left my improvised breast forms, two doubly bagged zip-lock sandwich bags of birdseed, at home! I wouldn't have time to go home to get them, and I still don't want to wander around my neighborhood during the day en femme, so I improvised by using the top that I had worn, strategically bunched up, instead.
Also, the lipstick that I had brought for later touchups was not the right color, and, as had happened on my previous outing, the waist elastic on panty hose that I had brought with me didn't hold them up. So, I again made a brief shopping trip en femme to a nearby chain drug store to purchase the needed items. I also purchased the supplies for making a replacement set of breast forms, but never had the opportunity to make them.
My trip to San Francisco was by BART, the local mass transit system. The restrooms at the station both have a single commode, although the men's has a urinal as well, and are lockable from the inside. I entered the ladies' room, and changed into my new pair of pantyhose. I then boarded the train, but got off a few stops ahead of where the connecting bus would be to buy two other items that I had forgotten, a folding hair brush and comb and a purse size can of hair spray. I then rode the surface streetcar down Market Street to the street where I would connect to a bus to take me near the meeting place.
Naturally it started raining! Fortunately, I had my umbrella, and used it while waiting what seemed a long time before the bus arrived. It was full, and I initially had to stand, but found a seat later when someone else got off. I had deliberately ridden this bus line the previous Sunday to familiarize myself with it and find the bar and restaurant where the meeting was to be held. Nevertheless, riding at night without my glasses on (vanity, thy name is woman!) I managed to miss the stop, and had to backtrack on foot, in the rain, passing homeless encampments along the way. Nevertheless, I made it to the establishment before the scheduled meeting time of 8pm.
I have this bad habit
of arriving at social events on time. As this was my first
meeting, I didn't really know what to expect. I opened the metal
doors, and found myself in a crowded, public bar with loud music
playing. Fortunately, for this year at least, bars in California
are supposed to be smoke-free, and this one was. I wandered to
the rear and into the side patio, now thankfully covered by a
tent roof, looking for a meeting room of some sort but there was
none. Instead, I saw a tall lady ordering drinks at the bar, and
followed her into the patio room. She invited me to sit next to
her at the small table that had been marked "Reserved,"
and I did so. There were only a few other attendees present.
Gradually, others walked in and sat down, and I introduced myself
to many of them. Later arrivals included Cindy Martin 
and Jamie Faye Fenton (pictured here on the right).
Cindy recognized me from the "Fairy Godmother" picture
that I had submitted to the TG Forum in 1995. Also present was
Diana, who had been crowned "Miss ETVC" at the
cotillion the previous month, still wearing her tiara. The
President and the photographer also joined the group.
The attire of the guests ranged from some in male clothes all the way to the complete "Drag Queen" look. The tall, slender Miss ETVC was resplendent in a white knit dress. Most wore conservative dresses or skirt and jackets over blouse combinations, so my green dress fit in. I discovered that a few of the ladies actually live near me in the East Bay, although others traveled greater distances to attend.
The waitress was very busy that evening but managed to take the orders from everyone. I settled for the popcorn shrimp and drank two raspberry iced teas. Others ordered the Caesar Salad, which I will probably have at the next meeting.
Discussions around the table were largely the ones one would have at any social gathering. There was some sharing of personal progress during transition, and the reactions of employers and others. Photos of previous events, including the Cotillion, were passed around; fortunately someone brought a small flashlight, as the room was dimly lit and the only other source of light was the candles in glass containers on the tables. I was seated between a person who actually lives fairly close to me, and one who drove a considerable distance to attend.
I left at about 11:20, and caught a ride to the BART station from one of the attendees. Fortunately the rain had stopped. I rode to the station nearest my home, and walked home from there.
