photographs by me an Django van Ardenne
When your body and your skin become a guise, the surface to satisfy and seemingly hide all else,
why not pretend, for a moment or a while, to be just that which you appear to be?
The costume slips over my skin, it fits so well. I think I’m quite the sight!
For the idea(l) of femininity is what I choose to wear,
Its complexity is one I understand, one I can romanticise without a worry or a doubt.
The fantasy feels almost real, the borders start to blur.
Until comfort is all I’ve ever known, submerged too deep for safe return.
It would be a lie if I told you
I do not particularly see
The appeal, Nor the mystery
Of being a woman
And for that to be the end of it.