Her feet trudged through the slushy remains of flurries that had turned into a cold rain. The falling rain turned her hair to frizz under the confines of her standard David Bowie hoodie and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. A few strands of blue hair could be spotted matted to her forehead which she felt had a distinctly displeasing brow ridge that she sometimes – when she felt able to stand it – would scrutinize in the mirror.

Her feet made progress toward her shared flat, a lab notebook clutched in one hand, wrapped in a discarded copy of The Gryphon which she had found on a bench at the exit to the chemistry hall. Her key turned in the lock of a stout steel security door wedged between what had recently been an apothecary and was now vacant, windows papered over, and a takeaway curry shop. She clomped up the stairs, throwing the hoodie back off her wet, dripping hair, finding another key for the flat’s door.

Stepping inside, a low voice called out, “Is that you Na-“

“Don’t. Don’t call me that, anymore.”

“What should I call you, then? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to force you to pick something, but it’s awkward to address you as ‘N’ like you’re some kind of quasi-anonymous supervillain.”

“Maybe I am, though. You don’t know.” She stepped into the flat and started to unbundle herself from the cold and wet.

There was a lull as the idea was considered. “Please, please, N, do not pick Zoe, Emma, Gwen, Lily, Samantha or god forbid Jade. Stonking heaps of trans women with those names.”

“You know for such a strong ally you seem to know a lot about names trans women choose for themselves.”

There was an answering snort of amusement. “Don’t you force-fem trope me!”

“OK, fine. As it turns out, I don’t particularly care for any of those names.”

Another pause greeted her. “Good.” And then, “So did you have any luck at Oxfam?”

“No. I have the biggest feet in the North.”

“11 isn’t that big.”

“Big enough to be troublesome. I’m gonna look online after I read another chapter in Tristam Shandy.”

Her self-awareness of her gender identity had been a trickle of feelings at first, weird and unpleasant feelings of regret and remorse as she struggled through her puberty and her days before university. But over the past three months her feelings had grown stronger, into a river of new emotions. Recently she had felt calmness, acceptance, and certainty.

She was still trying to sort out if she could afford to pay for private gender care, and had been nicking hormones from another trans femme friend in the meantime.  She had decided to girlmode more often – skirts after all, do go spinny. It was a small thing, but also had the benefit of feeling affirming and being affordable. That’s why for the past few weeks, she had been searching Oxfams and other resale shops in Leeds for shoes in a suitable size. It wasn’t that shoes in her size weren’t made – they were indeed readily available online, but at price points she dared not indulge.

“What professor is torturing you with Tristam Shandy? I thought you were reading chemistry.”

“I am. But I have some electives in the quote humanities unquote. It’s supposed to make me well rounded. I quite like Tristam Shandy in truth. And Walter Shandy has strong opinions about how one’s name affects one’s fortunes.”

“How is that working out?”

“It didn’t work out all that well for poor Tristam. I certainly will not choose to name myself Tristam or N, appealingly brief as it is. Getting that username on Twi-”

“You mean the toxic hellmouth owned by some patronising rich dickhead?”

“No, I’m talking about ‘X’ – I think you’re talking about reddit.”

There was another snort. “Good one.”

Telling her flat mates what was going on with her was anti-climactic, even though she had felt a great deal of anxiety about telling them. She, Roger, and Dennis had all met through an on-campus D&D campaign that had been running in one form or another for four years, from before any of them were even at uni. They had saved kingdoms together, banished demons together and the other two flatmates were hardly surprised when the person who nearly always played a female rogue turned out to be a trans woman.

“Rog, is there any of the mystery casserole left in the fridge?” N shuffled toward the small kitchen and started boiling water for tea, poking around in the fridge to get some milk. “Tea?” N asked. Roger scraped his chair back from the far bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. “Yes, please. And no more casserole, I ate it for lunch. But I think Dennis is getting something at the chippie, if you text him quick enough.” N looked briefly annoyed and pulled the kettle off its electric plate as it aggressively burbled with boiling water. “No worries. I’ll float you a tenner to cover it,” Roger said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry to complain all the time about money,” she said, pouring hot water into the tea pot. She popped a rooster decorated tea cozy over the steeping tea and busied herself with milk, mugs, and fetching a packet of biscuits. Roger watched her but didn’t saying anything to her about money. He knew it was a sensitive subject for her.

“It’s just – you know, the hormones take forever. Getting NHS help is an absolute joke. I do actually want to finish my degree and I’m genuinely terrified how much everything might cost. Where is it all going to come from? I feel so self-conscious about every penny that goes out.”

“I heard you can sell pictures of your feet,” Roger volunteered.

N stared at him, a frown painted on her mouth. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, glancing down at Roger’s house-shoes.

He shuffled them nervously. “Who says I have?” he shot back with a smirk. “Where do you think I got the money for the chippie?”

Roger’s wildly ungroomed wizard eyebrows waggled, and it made N laugh. A real laugh that reached into her eyes. “Seriously, dude, who would pay £10 for your hobbit feet?”

* * *

It felt more and more like the shoe search terms she entered into her browser were a magical spell that she couldn’t quite cast correctly. It was time to get help from experts.

> WELCOME TO TRANS YOUTH UK! (Not affiliated with the Egg Society of Great Britain.)
> All the usual Consensus rules apply. Click >here< for server rules. Obey them or begone!
> There are no stupid questions. Only stupid answers! Please refrain from giving stupid answers.
> Message Ralph Me Up for moderation. Message GAYBOT XIX: ENCHANTED KISS for automated server functions.

Trim

Hey everyone. I’m kinda new. I need some help. I got an invite from my friend Ceres who’s been sloughing off her E pills to me. (She switched to injections, so the pills were made redundant.)

distilled

welcome trim what do you need help with

Trim

I live in Leeds and I’m trying to find shoes in larger sizes. I wear a UK 11. I’ve been searching online for them, but I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t have a ton of money to spend on this. I’m a poor college student. If not for Ceres, I don’t think I could easily afford HRT.

Girl Alex

Ooo, I am so sorry to hear that, Trim. Do you want flats?

Heels?

Sandals?

Boots?

distilled

give the girl some breathing space ffs

Trim

I don’t know? I don’t even really know what suits me. I’m pretty new to girlmoding.

Girl Alex

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

distilled

*snort* all of 3 days for you.

Girl Alex

Not my fault! I was under pressure.

distilled

i would murder a hobo to look as good as you did starting out.

there are pictures of her she was a booth babe before she even realized she was trans.

Girl Alex

Trade show model!

cicada

Hey Trim, sorry about these unhelpful idiots.

I’m pretty sure I can get you whatever kind of shoes you want in 11s.

i have a friend who gets a bunch of freebies for her IG

the oxfam down here in Almsworth is loaded with tall girl stuff

it’s probably the best stocked oxfam in england for trans girls

Trim

Oh my god, really? That’d be an absolute life saver. I found this skirt I like up here. It’s long and pleated with a purple and gold floral print. What kind of shoes do you think I should wear with it?

distilled

skirt go spinny!

Girl Alex

I’d say you’ll want to wear flats, probably? Maybe work up to heels.

I wish I’d had more of a gentle introduction to heels, myself.

cicada

I think Alex is right flats sound right for now.

a pair of black flats is a good staple, especially if you’re getting started with a new wardrobe.

My name’s Lorna. Send me your phone number in a private message, we can text some photos, and ill get it in the post to you.

Trim

How much will that cost?

cicada

Don’t worry about it!

between me, my friends, and the resale shops down here, we’ll find something perfect for you. we won’t need any money to cover it

Trim

Oh my god, that’s so kind of you! My name… my name is Nora.

cicada

Pretty! I like Nora. Send your number when you’re ready and we’ll get you sorted.

Girl Alex

Nora is a great name!

distilled

says the girl assigned a gender neutral name at birth

Girl Alex

I’m sorry about Penny. She’s mad because I have the best husband in the whole UK. She didn’t even come to the wedding :P

distilled

it was in mallorca!

Girl Alex

I offered you a plane ticket.

distilled

stg alex if you keep saying ib-EE-thaa in voice chat like some posh party girl, im going to slash your tyres

* * *

Three weeks later, a large box had been set in Nora’s bedroom when she came back from a chemistry lab. The girl smiled as she used a key to pop the sealing tape and pull back the box flaps. Inside, nestled carefully in a nest of newsprint was a letter along with four brand new pairs of shoes, all in the perfect size for Nora. A pair of black flats, a pair of leopard print flats, a pair of vegan black suede ankle boots with a small chunky heel and a pair of sandals. Also nestled in the packing, as gently as a bird’s egg, were four phials of estradiol. A creaky smile broke on Nora’s expression as she touched the phials, portraits of her future lazily forming in her mind’s eye like clouds that drift together and apart just as languorously. The girl unfolded a letter she found tucked against one of the sides of the box.

Dear Nora,

 I am so excited to send you these shoes and another small token to help you along your journey. Over the past few years, I’ve learned deeply how important mutual aid and sisterhood can be for trans and cis women alike. Consider this package the first step into a wider world of discovery about yourself and your future.

Many of us have understood all too well how hard it can be to find affirming clothing and shoes in larger, taller sizes. It can feel isolating, since among the women you know, you alone seem to be the one who always has trouble finding cute clothes that fit well and flatter your shape. I would encourage you to remember that no matter your size or shape, you are valid. You are beautiful.

I know we didn’t discuss it on Consensus, but I did find this pair of sandals for you. You can save them for the summer, which, sadly seems to be a few weeks at the end of August in the North. At least your feet will look cute for that brief moment of sun. If you need anything else, anything at all, reach out. I want you to know that many people here in Almsworth including me, are sending you the very best wishes on your journey.

Your friend and fashion angel,

Lorna Fielding