Fife, the universe, and everything

The longest photo session I ever did took nearly nine hours. I think I should make a note of just how much effort went into it – not for my sake, but to recognise the infinite patience of my photographer/wife.

Sunny pool

Things to do on a summer holiday…

I had figured out a route that would let me get some sunrise shots in an outdoor swimming pool with weird rock formations around it, a small picturesque fishing village, the ancient university town of St Andrews, and a scenic coastal railway station. I could bring changes of costume for each location, and get all this done by breakfast (or so I thought…)

First, I had to set the alarm for 2am. we spent an hour getting ready (me putting on makeup, she getting a thermos for hot drinks and snack bars for the next few hours).

Then I had to drive through the city centre dodging drunken students at 3am, when it turned out that my usual route out was blocked off by a labyrinth of bollards (the city’s transport chiefs love to mess around with car drivers) and further on at a bridge, by a police van with strobes (I assumed someone was having A Very Bad Night, either on the bridge or not long off it, but apparently nobody was hurt). We finally escaped town about an hour later than intended thanks to some hasty re-navigation. It then turned out that our destination -the Kingdom Of Fife– had turned into a massive 20mph zone.

blogimagery92-time-and-tide

So by the time we got to Cellardyke tidal pool, it was over 30 minutes after sunrise and about five minutes off the maximum high tide. The pool was completely submerged. Well, shit.

Going downhill in Crail...

You get used to cobbles. Eventually.

Cottages

Dainty, isn’t it? (The village, I mean…)

A bit of colour

Some people live in great-looking little houses.

Instead, we went up the road to the tiny fishing village of Crail, where I found a quiet corner to change dresses and into my heels.

Crail

Early morning at a quiet little harbour…

Harbouring a secret desire?

Uh, just realised there’s a boat with ‘KY’ right next to my backside; you shouldn’t read anything into this.

On the up-side, there was nobody about, apart from a Japanese tourist taking photos, and a guy in the harbour sorting out his boat. No problem! The sun was over the horizon and the light was good.

St Andrews Cathedral

It was like that when I got there…

In at the deep Pend?

Fancy visiting The Pends? It Depends.

After that, to save me constantly changing in and out of my heels, her ladyship drove us further up the coast to St Andrews. For the sake of helping to differentiate each scene, I wore different coloured tops and belts over the dress. I did try changing the dress in the car, but ended up giving a trio of male students heading home a bit of a show. Being St Andrews students, they were too polite to catcall, point, or stare for longer than thirty seconds (I think they managed about twenty).

If I move away, the pillar falls over.

If I move away, the pillar falls over.

This is where princes and princesses learn stuff and shiz...

This is where princes and princesses learn stuff and shiz.

...in which I pretend to be clever...

…in which I pretend to be clever…

We got there before 6am, taking in photos of the cathedral and the Pends, the university (where any security guards would’ve gotten a weird show from all the cameras around St Salvator’s Quad), and the golf course… where two SUVs containing a group of gigantic US golfers with bad dress sense jumped out to take photos of themselves right at the spot we were hoping to go. Dammit.

So I photobombed them.

St Andrews Golf Club

For swingers?

My only regret is not seeing the looks on their faces when they saw what I was doing right behind them. Sadly, most of the view was taken up with stands for The Open. If I gave even a mouse-sized shit about golf, I’d’ve realised this beforehand… but at least the early morning skies were spectacular. Incidentally, until 2014 the Golf Club was men only. If it still was, I could really have fucked things up for them.

Golf is a good walk spoiled.

Golf is a good walk spoiled.

We then drove back to Cellardyke, where the tide had lowered enough to reveal the pool. I’d been unable in my researches to find out how deep it was, and I had a choice of a decrepit paddling pool, or the larger pool where I couldn’t see the bottom.

blogimagery93-the-water-is-lovely

The water was lovely.

I went for the paddling pool, going barefoot on smashed up 1930s concrete and seaweed. It was filled with a load of sea flora and small fauna (I hoped it wasn’t being filled with sewage or anything – it was manky enough as it was!).

Paddling pool

This pool was ancient, decrepit, manky, and full of sea critters. The smile is fake.

Poolside seat

Trying very hard not to fall backwards into the sea…

Lido

You can swim in it too (if you dare)…

By this time it was about 7.30am, and instead of having the place to ourselves (nice and quiet and private), I was being watched by joggers and dog-walkers and people from the nearby caravan site fetching supplies.

This pool has spent about 80 years getting smashed to bollocks by the North Sea.

This pool has spent about 80 years getting smashed to bollocks by the North Sea.

One of them was an old man walking his dog. He sat on a bench and took in the Twist swimsuit show (which began with my beloved photographer saying, “Well, we’re here now. Come on, strip, motherfucker!”).

I bet that gull had a great view.

I bet that gull had a great view.

I struck every classic swimsuit pose I could think of, as best as I could. If only the old guy knew he wasn’t looking at who he thought he was looking at. Still, he had a big, wide, happy smile on his face. And when I say smile, I mean leer. He was clearly having the best start to his day he’d had in years.

Been seen to lean by a keen teen in jeans means I'm unclean?

Been seen to lean by a keen teen in jeans means I’m unclean?

It was getting busier, and more people were stopping to watch: TIME TO GTFO.

I made damn well sure to find a spot hidden by the sea wall where I could get changed out of my swimsuit… into a shiny little black dress. Regular readers will have realised by now that I’m not averse to standing out from the crowd. I can only assume that the caravan park crowd thought I was doing a walk of shame or something.

You'll notice I'm kneeling in a paddling pool; there's no way I was jumping into the one behind me.

You’ll notice I’m kneeling in a paddling pool; there’s no way I was jumping into the one behind me.

We went for one last shoot at Aberdour railway station, this time watched only by Scotrail’s security cameras and a middle-aged couple waiting.

Stationary at the station

I’m amazed I could squeeze into this dress…

LBD, platform, heels...

I’m trying to ignore the middle-aged couple staring at me…

I should point out that we still hadn’t had breakfast. Her ladyship was in dire need of coffee. I drove us back to Edinburgh, utterly exhausted.

I'm blue dab-a-dee Aberdour, dab-a-dee Aberdour...

I’m blue dab-a-dee Aberdour, dab-a-dee Aberdour…

My lack of peripheral vision from the wig only caused one near-RTA (thankfully the other driver was happy to let me know with generous application of their horn).

Platform

You just stick your thumb and and hitch a ride – that’s how trains work, isn’t it?

By the time we got back home, it was getting on for 10.30am. That’s eight and a half hours, people! THIS is why I love my wife to bits: there’s nobody else I’d go on adventures with! 🙂

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Be of good cheer!

Want an excuse to cross-dress in public? Make a deal, bet, or dare with someone!

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I lost a bet, all right?

I did this with my writing group as part of National Novel-Writing Month one November. A fellow writer bet that she could write 50,000 words before I did, and I bet that I could write 50,000 words before any of the first-timers in our group. We both lost. Her forfeit was to wear one of my garish Hawai’ian shirts to the end-of-month party; mine was to attend wearing her old cheerleader skirt from her university days. She even gave me her pom-poms.

The thing she didn’t like was the fact that I could fit into the skirt and she hadn’t worn it in years. The thing I didn’t like was the fact that it was the end of November and the worst winter we’d had in decades – not ideal conditions to be prancing about town dressed as a cheerleader. Our venue had to shut early, so we scouted around for another. We ended up in a sports bar. It was the night of some big football match. This was definitely not an ideal place to be dressed as a cheerleader. Especially at a table full of fellow nerds sipping soft drinks and typing stories into their laptops.

Yes, I got stared at. Yes, I freaked out a couple of guys who were staring at me a little bit too long before I said in my chirpy, bloke-ish voice, “Can I help you?” And yes, I was bloody freezing. But dammit, it was fun.

I'd never make it in a team.

I’d never make it in a team.

A couple of years later I asked to borrow the cheerleader stuff again for an early-morning autumn photoshoot. I got a few pictures in a sports field (with only sunrise dogwalkers to wonder what the hell was going on), but –meh– they just seemed too ordinary. I don’t like being ordinary!

Reasons to be cheerful?

Reasons to be cheerful?

Instead, I went the pop-culture route. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a cheerleader, wasn’t she? And, handily enough, there was a sizeable Victorian-era graveyard nearby, overgrown and covered in autumn leaves. Perfect!

Creepy steps

I live in a city with a multitude of creepy, overgrown graveyards.

It’s a weird feeling going around a graveyard in a cheerleader outfit. I don’t have any religious sensibilities, and I don’t really get the concept of ‘desecration’; in any case, I was just walking around looking for striking scenery to pose in. The graves themselves held no interest to me other than as background ornamentation.

Buffy in undergrowth

Mucking about in the undergrowth…

Even so, I did wonder what I’d say to anyone who happened to be walking past. I wanted photos that looked incongruous when taken at face value, yet fit in with Buffy-style tropes.

Vampire Slayer

October is a time of grave concern…

On the other hand, who’s going to wander around a graveyard at silly-o’clock in the morning? There was nobody else there. It was as quiet as the grave…

Buffy: gravestones

Cheerleader Buffy doing a 3-point-landing in a graveyard. I don’t know how much more epic I can be for you people.

 

 

Hooked on a feline

On another old photoshoot, I had the idea of finding everyday locations that might be a bit science fictiony when seen from a certain angle, and try to get some sort of action heroine shots. This is trickier than it sounds, because it turns out these sorts of places employ security guards…

catsuit

This is more uncomfortable than it looks…

Nothing says ‘action heroine who’s got her shit sorted out’ like a catsuit. This sort of thing also tends to attract a lot of attention, so I reckoned it’d be best to get the photos done very early on another summer morning. I’d given thought to the science & engineering campus for the university as a location, but plumped instead for the back of a cinema complex, where there were lots of grilles and vents and a very long staircase that brought to mind (my mind, anyway) classic villains’ lairs from old James Bond movies. We weren’t supposed to park there, but who was going to notice at 5am?

Right after this photo was taken, we were asked to leave...

Right after this photo was taken, we were asked to leave…

We barely got started – maybe half a dozen photos to get lighting and poses figured out – before a side door opened and a chubby, spotty, greasy little teenager in an ill-fitting suit waddled out with a walkie talkie. His face was flushed, like he’d just interrupted a late-night chip supper to deal with us.

“Ye cannae be here!” he squeaked in a breaking voice, “It’s no’ allowed!”

In my heels, I felt like I was twice his height. I figured he must’ve been the cinema manager’s otherwise unemployable son or something. At any rate, I could see why he was picked for the Z-shift on the duty rota.

“We’re just taking a few photos,” my girlfriend explained.

“Ye’ve got tae go! It’s private propurrty!”

Discretion being the better part of valour, I just rolled my eyes, grabbed my coat and headed to the incredibly long staircase down to the car. Halfway down, I had that hairs-raising-on-the-back-of-my-neck feeling; I was being watched. Sure enough, I turned around and saw the wee man staring at my backside.

“I’m not who you think I am!” I told him.

I was quite gratified to see his jaw open and shut like a gasping fish as he stammered silently for a moment before waddling back to the safety of his CCTV control room.

Okay, strike one location. I had another idea: there was a water treatment facility by the shore, and from some angles it kinda looked like a nuclear reactor. It was also next to some industrial wasteland, so there would be a ton of scrap metal to strike adventurous poses on. I had visions of photoshopping in attack helicopters and explosions (still haven’t gotten around to that yet).

Despite appearances, this isn't a nuclear reactor; it's a water treatment facility...

Despite appearances, this isn’t a nuclear reactor; it’s a water treatment facility…

We tried not to breathe in the stench from the sewer water, and got a number of shots in…. before a marked security car crawled past. The driver scowled at us. Or maybe it was leering. It was hard to tell. Unlike a cinema Z-shift team, this guy looked like he strangled kittens for fun. We were glad when he drove on, out of sight.

Action heroines always seem to end up mucking around industrial waste grounds...

Action heroines always seem to end up mucking around industrial waste grounds…

Anyway, we were on a public road, and we weren’t breaking any laws, so we stayed to take a few more pictures across the road in front of the waste ground (I decided it was too muddy and potholed to actually prance around in there). That’s when a second security car crawled past. The driver looked like Spike the bulldog from the Tom & Jerry cartoons and got into the security business because he was attracted by the prospect of beating the crap out of people. He stared at me with – well, kiss-kiss-bang-bang eyes I guess…

As soon as he drove round the corner we decided this location was bust too. Time to move on again.

There was an old observatory on a hill with great views over the city centre, right next to the cinema we’d started at. So we went back, and I had to totter up the slopes and steps to the top, regretting my choice of footwear with every step.

More from the amazing adventures of Spinal Twist...

More from the amazing adventures of ‘Spinal Twist’…

The observatory itself was hidden behind a wall, but there were plenty of other points of interest on top of the hill (I used the location for other photoshoots later in the year). Best of all, there were no CCTV cameras and no guards to stop us; as far as I know it’s a public park.

Nothing like a stroll in the park to get you going...

Nothing like a stroll in the park to get you going…

Sorting out my hair, because that's what people will be looking at first... right?

Sorting out my hair, because that’s what people will be looking at first… right?

...when the revolution comes...

…when the revolution comes…

We got the photos I was after, but I wanted just a few more at a more rural-looking location, like the sort of quaint villages you’d see in the 1960s Avengers TV show. Edinburgh has that too, with a church next to a loch.

I live in a city with quaint villages right in the middle of it...

I live in a city with quaint villages right in the middle of it…

All I need is a Jaguar E-type and my image is set...

All I need is a Jaguar E-type and my image is set…

After the village pictures, we ventured down to the loch, past a bevy of swans which all stopped and stared. Just for that moment, it felt like something from one of the more surreal episodes of a sixties adventure show (“I shall conquer England with my army of robot swans! Muahahaha!”).

That swan honked at me. The sexist pervert.

That swan honked at me. The sexist pervert.

I expected the swans. I didn’t expect to interrupt a guy in a tent at the side of the loch, fishing. He certainly didn’t expect to see us, that’s for sure. I bade him good morning, and his mouth fell open, dropping his pipe onto his lap. Poor sod. He just wanted a quiet bit of fishing before breakfast time, and, well, Twist happens.

Four-inch heels are completely impractical for being a cartoon secret agent...

Four-inch heels are completely impractical for being a cartoon secret agent…

I was told to stand like this. I have no idea why.

I was told to stand like this. I have no idea why.

*For newer readers, I’ve written previously on the subject of catsuits, objectificationsexualisation, and feelings of empowerment before – in short, I liked prancing around like this because I thought it might look cool, rather than to look sexy.

The Swimsuit Edition

Regular readers of this blog will know that I’m deeply shallow and vain and a show-off. In anyone else, this is considered a virtue and called ‘confidence’. Read this as you will, but it takes confidence to prance about cross-dressed in a swimsuit…

*waves*

I wanted to do some beach photos for the calendars I made for my friends. I wanted them to look sporty, or glamourous, or a bit retro. Only two things stood in my way: a lack of swimsuits, and no idea where to go.

Procuring swimsuits was easy enough; cheap supermarket ones would do. There was no way I could pull off a bikini (by which I mean wear one confidently), so I found a terrifically ugly one-piece polka-dot affair, one with a magenta stripe, and cheapest of all, a simple black number. Surely, even without the benefit of Spanx, one of them would work out? (In the end, I found a use for all three.)

Choosing a location was a different problem. I wanted something on the east coast partly because of proximity, but also to get a sunrise shot – even if, at the latitude on which I live (further north than Moscow), a summer sunrise occurs at 4.30am.

It took a few weekends consulting Google Maps and driving around to some bleak, desolate, rocky coves that would only interest geological field trips, but I homed in on Tyne Sands near the town of Dunbar. Then I had to make sure the skies would be clear… and I decided to check the tides for good measure. These weren’t just swimsuit photos; I was going to science the shit out of this.

sunshine and sea

For the sake of glamour, let’s pretend this was taken somewhere warm and tropical…

All I do is beach, beach, beach…

Just a few weeks after standing at a local roundabout dressed as a bunny girl, I found myself taking off my clothes on a freezing cold deserted beach in the pre-dawn light at about 4.20am. I should get my head examined.

The first plunge into the water was agony; you won’t see any photos of that. But after a few minutes, I got used to it. And then the sun broke, a deep red. Even here, there was something incredibly life-affirming about staring at the sun as it crept over the same waves that were lapping around my knees.

Still, I wasn’t here to have fun. I tried to remember to suck in my gut, and pose properly, but I couldn’t exactly splash back to the sand and check the photos my girlfriend was taking, and then splash back for some more. A lot of it was down to just hoping for the best (in retrospect, I wish I’d gone a little bit further into the waves).

So much for the sporty shots. I changed into the polka-dot affair, and had to tuck my bra-straps into my bra in order to wear the halterneck properly. If the crew of the two distant fishing boats happened to be up and awake and looking at the beach through binoculars, then maybe they’d’ve freaked out. But I’m pretty sure they weren’t.

If modelling involves putting on a look of studied indifference, then ...I'm still practising...

If modelling involves putting on a look of studied indifference, then …I’m still practising…

The purpose of the next set was to go for the retro/glam look. I’d already sketched out poses and ideas for all of these, so it was just a case of finding a suitable stretch of beach. Happily, the sun was at just the right angle and direction to provide a good, golden light. I brought props: a beach towel; an empty wine bottle and glass; a can of Red Bull to make do for the wine; and a book (Backwards In High Heels if you must know) – all to cultivate the impression that I’m a classy fucker, me.

(That’s Red Bull in that glass…)

If you get up early enough, you can have a summer beach all to yourself...

If you get up early enough, you can have a summer beach all to yourself…

I love this dress; it’s great for making quick changes…

I had one more swimsuit and one more set of photos in mind. I wanted to do a set of astrology-themed pictures, and decided that sitting in a rockpool with a toy crab would work for ‘Cancer’ (in the end, the toy crab turned out to be too small and washed out in the sunlight, so I pulled a funny face and Photoshopped one in, instead).

The rocks were on the other side of the river, so we had to pile into the car, drive around, park next to camper vans full of slumbering surfers, and head through a patch of forest to the river mouth. The tide was far enough out to pose on the rocks and seaweed for a bit (for some reason, it didn’t feel like I was in Scotland any more; it also felt like I was on a mini-holiday).

On the way back home, we stopped at the small town of Haddington and got a few green, leafy shots by the river and the church (it was still early enough that nobody was about).

Obviously, I’m not going to share absolutely all the photos that were taken – but if you ever want to feel glammed up and have a beach to yourself, then first thing after sunrise on a summer morning is the time to do it.

On the rocks with a Twist?

On yr rocks, checkin out yr rockpoolz...

On yr rocks, checkin out yr rockpoolz…

And yes, the sand got EVERYWHERE. :/

 

Tomb Raiding at Edinburgh Comic Con

You’re never too old to scare yourself. And if you ever want a safe place to go out cross-dressed, I thoroughly recommend comic/science fiction conventions. These are two things I found out for myself last month.

I had it in my head to enter the cosplay contest at Edinburgh Comic Con 2016, but I wasn’t entirely sure which character to dress up as. So I asked my friends. Three costumes involved the catsuit: Emma Peel from The Avengers TV show (but I reckoned hardly anyone would be able to distinguish her); Selene from Underworld (but I needed a much shinier catsuit to do her justice); and Black Widow from The Avengers films (but if videos and photos of the 2015 con were anything to go by, I’d be up against dozens of Black Widows). That left Tomb Raider‘s Lara Croft (the 1990s version).

I’ve already gone out as Lara for a friend’s birthday, as well as an early-morning photoshoot (which was largely uneventful, so nothing to write about; photos can be found randomly throughout the blog gallery), but going to a comic con would be my first time just on my own, talking to a bunch of strangers (although I did meet quite a few people I knew anyway).

blogimagery90-cosplayers

A couple of Rogue Ones?

On arrival, I headed to the ‘green room’ where cosplayers could get changed. The first guy I spoke to was Andrew, getting changed from Bane to a shadow stormtrooper. He was my guide and guru to my first con. He also didn’t realise I was a guy as well, at first. When I caught up with him throughout the afternoon, he’d introduce me to various friends to speak to, so I could confirm for them that he wasn’t lying; Lara Croft was a dude. This was actually great fun!

blogimagery79-Multipass

I was glad to see I wasn’t the only 1990s icon at the con…

blogimagery80-backtoback

Why yes, I *am* a slut for cameras…

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Covered from all angles (I think Leeloo was glad to escape and check out the rest of the con after this!)

Some of the reactions were priceless – one of my favourites was a guy who, after taking my photo, said “Thanks” and I said “You’re welcome!” …and then his eyes bugged out a bit.
“You’re a man?!”
“Well, yeah, sure.”
“Uh…”
(And then he left in a hurry. I’ve encountered this response before.)

That said, pretty much everyone else was cool with it…

Stark contrast?

I gotta be honest; I don’t recognise this character… my nerdy knowledge has limits!

An Intrepid selfie…

This was an incredibly safe, family-friendly environment. There were parents and kids all in costume (kudos to the very young girl dressed as the dancing sapling Groot from Guardians Of The Galaxy). The rules for interacting with cosplayers (essentially: look don’t touch; no photos without permission; don’t be a dick) were displayed on large pop-up stands, but I think everyone just took them as read. Everyone took pictures of themselves with everyone else. It doesn’t matter what size, shape, age, or gender anyone is – it’s all about the costumes.

blogimagery85-shopping

It was kinda weird seeing so many different genre characters mingling together… shopping. It’s the ultimate mix of the fantastical and the mundane.

Anyway, time was marching on and the cosplayers had to queue up for the contest. As I predicted, I saw a multitude of Black Widows (and Suicide Squads, and X-Men), but apparently a glut of Deadpools the previous day had deterred anyone from dressing up in red and black.

It was a long, nerve-wracking wait. I’d never competed in anything like this before (and had no expectation of winning; I was merely hoping to be remembered), and those nad-mashing leather shorts were really, truly uncomfortable (but Lara Croft does not cry; therefore neither would I).

After The Flash and Wolverine did their turns on stage, I was up. As the write-up of the con in Starburst magazine put it:

…a Lara Croft greeted with equal parts enthusiasm and unease after revealing herself to be an alarmingly convincing cross-dressed man…

I seemed to create an impression anyway. Someone in the midst of the audience said:

A good number of folks were surprised when he spoke I do have to say. I saw the reaction of two teenage boys when [Lara] spoke and it was priceless.

blogimagery86-feedback1 blogimagery87-feedback2

I’m told there was a massive intake of breath from some quarters. On stage, I was just aware of a short pause and then applause. The facial tectonics of the emcee were a sight to behold as well, as he rapidly reappraised who he was dealing with.

blogimagery88-cosplay1

This is my “Surpriiiiise!” smirk. Des, the emcee, recovered well (“Stay professional… stay professional…”)

blogimagery89-competition

“Don’t just stand there, let’s get to it; strike a pose, there’s nothing to it…”

“So what made you dress up as Lara Croft?” Hm. Yeah. What indeed? In retrospect I wish I could’ve come up with a wittier answer than the one I did (I could’ve mentioned the fact that like Lara Croft I have a habit of digging around for old things – apart from a clip-on ponytail, everything I wore came from charity shops, and was perhaps the cheapest costume at the con).

I’d also given thought to a short performance of how Lara picks something off the floor (shuffling around left and right until she’s finally in the right position, and then inexplicably drowning), but it’s hard to know if others will find it as funny as I do. So I limited myself to a final pose for the cameras before bounding off stage.

By the end, the well-deserving winner was a home-made Chappie. I understand a video of the contest might be available at some point – I’ll post it here if I can. I’ve already had a suggestion for a costume for next year’s comic con which some of my friends are keen on. And you know what? I’m tempted. It’ll take a lot of dieting and buying stuff I’d wear precisely once, but I’m tempted… sort of… kind of… maybe….

Photos shamelessly stolen from Andrew Judge, Mustbe2sday, Nick J Cook, Dave Jolie, Chi H Lau, Scott Mathie, and possibly others at Edinburgh Comic Con… sorry if I missed anyone!

Wild Wild Twist

By last spring, I’d decided I’d had a long enough break from cross-dressing and doing photo shoots. I wanted to do more. Each one is like a mini-adventure, and I’d generated enough ideas to do another calendar for my friends*.

They repair stiletto heels here too.

They repair stiletto heels here too.

The target for this one was a tiny little alleyway in Edinburgh known as ‘The Wild West‘. I figured I had enough clothes to get a sort-of, kind-of Calamity Jane look, and brought out my old outback hat from my time in Australia. A visit to the toyshop got me a cheap die-cast revolver (which was child-sized… hm…)

About to get west and wild...

About to get west and wild…

I like to do photoshoots early in the morning, especially in the summer months when the light is good (luckily, I live far enough north that the nights are quite short in the summertime). It also means nobody else is around to give me funny looks when I’m striking bizarre poses for photoshoppy purposes later on.

The ‘Wild West’ part of Edinburgh is in one of the just-posh-enough parts of the city, in a residential area at the back of a local library. It’s quiet enough at the best of times. Going there at about 6am would guarantee nobody would be watching.

(...this is actually a library fire exit!)

(…this is actually a library fire exit!)

It was built in the 1990s by a furniture salesman to create ….well, some sort of ambience, I guess. The years haven’t been kind to the place, and after a couple of decades, it’s run-down, faded, rotting and falling to bits. But with some clever camera angles, you need not see the nearby tenements, or telephone cables, or burglar and fire alarms…

I’d already scouted it out beforehand, and had some ideas about the sorts of shots and angles I wanted. It was possibly the most trouble-free (and audience-free) shoot we’ve ever done.

(You'd probably keep your door locked shut too...)

(You’d probably keep your door locked shut too…)

If anyone else wants to take photos or selfies (using a camera timer), I heartily recommend heading out early on a sunny morning, even just around your hometown. You’ll have the streets to yourself, you’ll have the golden glow of the sun, and you can get something approaching a glamorous set of outdoors photos (cross-dressed or not!).

Well, shoot!

Well, shoot!

*(It’s probably the last calendar I’ll do – I’ve no idea what other photo shoots I could do, and I’m  not keen on repeating things… so I’m archiving the most -but not all- of the shoots I’ve done over the years, here on the blog.)

Happy Bunny

For a long, looong time I wasn’t sure about sharing these photos, but I reached the point where I figured ‘what the hell’…

I must be nuts to dress up like this. Speaking of nuts - don't ask.

I must be nuts to dress up like this.
Speaking of nuts – don’t ask.

When scouting for locations for photoshoots for a calendar I was making for friends in 2012, I cast my search far and wide. One of these early springtime searches took us to the coastal town of Dunbar, which has a couple of roundabouts on the approach.

When we drove past, I noticed one of them was chock-full of daffodils, and surrounded by trees. The cogs started going round.

I already had a vague idea for an Easter-themed set of photos. Maybe, just maybe, I could do some tongue-firmly-in-cheek Easter Bunny shots?

I already had a bunch of clothes that could be repurposed as a bunny girl costume. I just needed the ears (from a dirt-cheap party shop), and maybe a chocolate egg as a prop (the supermarkets had nothing else). I ended up getting a small, handheld wicker basket from a charity shop to put eggs into, as well. It’s all about the details.

...because the eggs are what everyone's going to look at, obviously.

…because the eggs are what everyone’s going to look at, obviously.

All I needed was a location. And to lose a load of flab. (I got kind of paranoid about the latter, virtually starving myself and getting the most merciless body-shaping underwear I could acquire on a budget.) There are a ton of photos showing rolls of flab spilling over the body-shaping stuff which will never see the light of day, because I am vain.

The only other thing to do was hope like hell the weather would be good early in the morning at weekends, for as long as the daffodils lasted.

I can’t remember if it was the following weekend, or the weekend after, but after checking a nearby place to park on Google Earth and resigning myself to the fact that the morning sun wouldn’t be in the best position lighting-wise, we ended up at this roundabout again at 7am on the first Saturday morning of April.

...because bunnies are renowned for... uh, laying eggs...

…because bunnies are renowned for… uh, laying eggs…

This should be enough to tell you that 1) I get some really daft ideas and follow them through from time to time, and 2) I have the most understanding fiancée in the world.

It was damp and cloudy and not too warm. The daffodils were cold and wet with dew. I put down a rug and took off my coat and stood in the middle of a roundabout dressed as a bunny girl and asked aloud, “What the fuck am I doing? Seriously, who does this?!

It took a while to get into the right mood for it. A few initial shots to see what the lighting and framing was like, but also to get the right posture and expression (“the tits are real, but the smile is fake” and all that…)

Spreading happiness, good cheer, chocolate, and myxomatosis...

Spreading happiness, good cheer, chocolate, and myxomatosis…

In the middle of one of these poses, an early-morning bus rolled past. As you might imagine, all the passengers suddenly pressed their faces against the windows to check out the bunny girl in the fishnets standing next to the road. I waved at them. I like to think I enlivened their journey into town, anyway.

Okay. No problem. Time was marching on, and the roads were going to get busier. Hopefully we wouldn’t take much longer.

A few more photos later, a car passed by and honked the horn. I think the driver liked my tail. He actually drove around a second time with his window wound down, and shouted “You look lovely!!!”

I can make it twitch, too.

I can make it twitch, too.

I didn’t dare shout back, in case he lost control of his car. His journey was certainly brightened up.

More photos. I have this thing about checking the ones which have been taken to see if any need to be retaken. I mean, there’s no point in taking all those photos, only to find a bunch of things wrong with them when you get back home, right?

My audition for the Playboy mansion did not go well.

My audition for the Playboy mansion did not go well.

And that’s when I noticed, in the distance, a police car heading straight for us.

I immediately dropped down and hid among the daffodils, my mind racing, thinking of potential upcoming newspaper articles about the weirdo tranny bunnygirl at a Dunbar roundabout, with my mugshot right next to them. The police car kept coming. How would I explain this? I wasn’t breaking any laws, surely? Would I get fired from my job? What the hell would my friends and family say if it hit the papers?

Her ladyship decided this was hilarious, and a photo should be taken for posterity:

Bunny in the headlights

Bunny in the headlights

And then, at the last possible turning, the patrol car headed off in a different direction. I breathed a massive sigh of relief. I damn near laid a few rabbit pellets right there.

I decided that three vehicles passing by was too busy for my tastes. We finished off and headed home. This was the first time I’d gone out cross-dressed just to take photos, rather than to meet with friends. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, but I really enjoyed it; it was like a quick mini-adventure. I got hooked.

This Easter Egg was gone in sixty seconds...

This Easter Egg was gone in sixty seconds…

As for the location we were actually scouting in the first place? I’ll talk about that another time… 😉