And when in Paris....

I thought I'd stock up on some DIM brand hosiery, as they seem to be all the rage in France, and we can't get them easily in the UK. Monoprix had this policy of staying open until 9.30 in the week which suited me well. So one evening I bought 4 pairs of holdups and opaque cappuccino (well I was drinking so much of the stuff that week) tights, and went to the till to pay. Sometimes when you buy girly things you wonder what the assistant is thinking, so I mentioned to the African girl that they were for me, as she looked a bit puzzled. She seemed quite intrigued when I showed her my avatar photo, and she called her friend over to show, after I said it was ok. Then we had a bit of a chat about their hairstyles which were tightly braided; I think they were ok about talking to a guy about their hair and that, anyway they asked me to come back again soon.

You never really know how particular African groups relate or accept cross-dressing; I remember a few years ago I was in a nightclub across the other side of the world, when 3 rather extrovert Creole trannys came in and started making a lot of noise and fuss. Near the end of the evening they needed a lift to another club, where I happened to be going to next (I was semi-working, but that's another story), and I offered them a lift there. On the way, they were behaving more like drag queens, although I now vaguely recall the one in the passenger seat propositioning me. I think the club was quite near anyway, so I didn't get much info from them about the t-scene, although they said there were a lot more trannys in the south of the island, where they'd come from.
When we got to the next club they bought me a drink and went their own way, and I vaguely remember spending the rest of the time there with a lovely French girl called Fanny.

When in Rome...

Well, Paris actually. Can't go there and not shop, really, can you?! Despite the train strike which crippled the city a few weeks ago when I was there, (4 1/2 hours from Gare du Nord to Roissy airport on the number 350 bus, via every little bus stop in north east Paris) it meant that there was a lot of walking time from A to B, and B to A. On the way from my hotel to the train station every day I used to pass this cute little clothes boutique, and one evening I got there 15 minutes before they closed. Well the deux vieille dames who ran the shop were a hoot. Almost straight out of the John Cleese sales training video. I don't think I fazed them as a guy buying for my wife, but didn't have it in me at this time to say that the clothes were for me. Anyway, the way they interacted over the suggestions for clothes for me to buy, and getting the right size, was so funny. They must have been friends for a long time as it was like they could read each others minds. Well 15 minutes later I'd bought a short black leather jacket, brown mac, long brown skirt, and 2 tops. A good spell of shopping, on the back of a good day's work.