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All girls love shopping, and frocks, and curling their eyelashes, right? Carrie J Lyell is not so sure…

My girlfriend’s sister is getting married in a month, write Carrie. It’s all very exciting.

Ever since she and her fiancée announced their engagement, I’ve been planning my outfit in my head.

Something devishley handsome, James Dean meets Elvis Presley with a little Zac Efron thrown in for good measure.

Nevermind the fact I look more like a cross between Matt Lucas and Boris Johnson, in my fantasy I looked fabulous. Waistcoats and braces and cravats, oh my!

So, last weekend I went out to find the outfit that would transform me into the image in my head but it seems Topman don’t sell miracles.

I bought myself a men’s suit in keeping with my belief that clothes shouldn’t be gendered but I looked like a five-year-old playing dress up in their Dad’s clothes. After a lot of heartache and soul searching, I went along to Debenhams: The women’s department.

As I went up the escalator, I ignored the sweaty fingertips and racing heart rate. Department stores terrify me at the best of times, nevermind the women’s section. I’m the kind of person that has a panic attack at the sight of a pantsuit, and I thought eyelash curlers were some kind of torture device. So, I know you’ll appreciate how difficult this was for me.

The last time I had been in a changing room in Debenhams was trying on a bikini for a holiday in the south of France, a similarly painful experience. Both have led me to thinking that there is some kind of high street conspiracy against lesbians like me looking fashionable, handsome and feeling comfortable.

What do androgynous or boyish women wear on the beach? I would have felt ridiculous in an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka-dot bikini, so in the end I opted for board shorts and a vest top, but that wasn’t very conducive to a suntan.

For the wedding, I chose a non-descript beige trouser suit, but I was horrified to realise there were no pockets. Where am I supposed to keep all my things? Apparently you can’t just rock up to a wedding wearing a rucksack, either. This, again, is part of the conspiracy for me to purchase a clutch bag, whatever that even means.

There must be someone, somewhere, making men’s clothes to fit women? I can’t believe I’m the only one who likes the fit of men’s shirts but doesn’t appreciate them going down to my knees.

Don’t even get me started on shoes.

It would be easy if I could just wear a dress, but it’s not worth it for the inevitable hilarity that would ensue. I can’t even wear a little mascara without my friends breaking into fits of laughter.

We’ve come a long way, baby. Maybe even too far. Feminists of the past have allowed us to get to a point where we can wear boys clothes and no one bats an eyelid, so much so that it’s gone full circle.

I’ve explored the masculine side of my personality, and it’s been fun. But any attempt to femme it up is almost taboo. Society puts so much pressure on women to look a certain way, and you’d think that in the lesbian and bisexual community there would be a little more room for manoeuvre, but it’s even worse. If you, like me, are a bit of a tomboy, any effort to explore your feminine side is met with scepticism and downright derision from peers.

I had the audacity to grow my hair beyond my ears a few years ago, and I very nearly had my gay card revoked. When I wore eyeshadow (or guyshadow as I prefer to call it) people gasped. So it’s really no wonder that I feel so lost in the women’s department of a shop, or like an alien amongst my straight, feminine friends.

The lesson I’ve learnt? I’ll be getting civilly partnered in jeans and a t-shirt. It’s far less hassle, if you ask me.

And masculine, or feminine, eyelash curlers will not be included.

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