The first time it occurred to me that I could participate in a peak moment of my life without wearing high heels was at the 2015 Golden Globes, when Transparent had been nominated for Best Television Series. As a child who grew up sitting on the floor watching awards shows on TV, the idea of winning an award was like climbing a mountain. On top of that, my then husband had decided not to join me at the last minute—for reasons I explore in my memoir, “She Wants It: Desire, Power, and Toppling the Patriarchy” —so for the first time I was also attend-ing an awards show alone, with no man by my side.
A few months before the Globes, my stylist, Andrea Longacre-White, told me that Kenzo wanted to send me something to wear. So I went on their Web site and looked at their fashion shows, and, lo and behold, I saw a man’s suit that made my heart soar. It was light and dark blue, and looked as though there was a story written into the fabric—a story about dreaming and clouds and blue skies ahead.
“I could present my ‘sexy clown’ gender identity instead of dressing up like somebody going to prom.”
In many ways, the suit was almost like my date. I had been to fancy events before, and I had always found myself in some really awful nondescript long black gown. But this time I could present my “sexy clown” gender identity instead of dressing up like somebody going to prom. I took the suit to a tailor in Beverly Hills and had a couple of alterations, and I brought it home lovingly in a plastic bag and just stared at it hanging in the closet in the days leading up to the event.
My Stella McCartney creepers made the outfit complete. They were almost like Moon Boots—it felt like I was walking on foam bricks that were holding me to the ground. They made me feel a little like an astronaut. Even though I didn’t identify as nonbinary yet, I think those gender-neutral shoes helped me recognize a feeling: I didn’t want people to get a quick read on me as a “lady” or a “man.”
“I didn’t want people to get a quick read on me as a ‘lady’ or a ‘man.'”
The night of the show, I put on the suit and felt like I had already won something. My outfit was bright, happy, and ebullient, and whether or not I won, I was proud to be there. That was the night I realized that dressing up didn’t have to mean hating myself. And now, when I look back on that moment, I feel like it was a huge turning point—not just for the trans community and Transparent and for me as a director but for me as a person.
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