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  1. Hi Lucy, Thanks for your nice reply. It did make me feel a lot better! I promise not to stay away so long from now on. You made me feel important and wanted. Thank you soooo much. I look forward to more installments; I'm all caught up!
  2. Here is my message that never got through. I think it went to the site administrator.... oh well..... Hi Lucy, It's so nice that you've taken the time to write me - thank you so very much. You have helped keep alive in my mind that there are nice people out there!! I have been away for awhile just to get my head straight. High heels are such a part of my life, yet to find someone to share that with is soooo hard. Somedays I wish I wasn't blessed with this curse of being a fetishist - but, hey, that's me! I can't change that. How I wish I could find a woman who would understand me and accept my fetish. I really am a good guy and I don't live with my fetish front and center 24 hours a day. There is a lot more to me than just that. But the fetish seems too much for most ladies. Like Anita says about high heels, "Either you get it or you don't." Most women don't, as can be seen by realizing that probably 95% of all women either don't or rarely wear shoes higher than 4 inches. So I live life with this torment going on in my head..... We all have our crosses to bear, and I have such a wonderful life besides this cross. Thanks again for the message. I look forward to reading more installments!! I'm all caught up on your postings. Love you, Spikes Fan
  3. I love your photos and your stories. You mentioned that you fell once. Can you fill in the details for us? Which shoes were you wearing? Where did you fall? Did you hurt yourself? Did anyone help you? Did anyone make any comments? I'd love to hear the story, Your friend, Spikes Fan P.S. Check your hotmail, as I sent you a private email.
  4. Hi Lucy. I responded to your email to me. I hope you got it. Love, Spikes Fan
  5. Wow, I have to hand it to you, you look great in those high heels!! Hopefully more men will follow your lead and someday men in high heels will be a regular occurance. I know I would!!
  6. There is a good lesson to learn in your story! Obsessions can be too much. Thanks for the story.
  7. Lucy's Story (38) Posted by Lucy on January 30, 2004, 3:42:54 Hi Everyone! Hi to Randy & The Boyz and thank you to my latest repliers Erica, Sinkem, Spikesfan and Paul, to Puffer for setting-up the “Guess Lucy’s Present” competition and to competitors Puffer, Paul, Spikesfan, Mario, Heelfan and Stu! I roared with laughter at some of the suggestions, but I’ll leave quiz-setter Puffer to judge the competition in the light of my new Instalment 38: With Clarence’s candles throwing a glow on to our faces and casting our shadows on the to walls of his lovely room, I reached out with trembling fingers and took the wrapped present from Clarence. On top was a card showing Cunard’s ‘Queen Elizabeth’ sailing into New York and a message saying “A million, million apologies for causing the Best Girl in The World to sprain her ankle, but here’s a little physiotherapy for it!”. Removing the ribbon which had been tied into a wonderful bow, I teased off the lid and lifted out the contents as Velma and Madeline looked on in awe. I had never seen anything like this! Balancing on the palms of my hands was a pair of shoes quite unlike any other. They were magical! The beautifully-styled court uppers were a deep, deep, glowing blue with a metallic sheen which moved and stirred and shined and danced at us. But the heels! The heel-height was only about 4 ½” (although I suppose that’s very high by most girl’s standards), but they were needle, needle thin! “Oh Wow!” said Velma and Madeline simultaneously. “Yes, aren’t they thin!” said Clarence, “3 millimetres to be precise – the maker claims that it’s the thinnest wearable stiletto in the World and that it’s only possible due to being made of titanium (was it?) or some such metal”. I was speechless at their beauty! The gleaming all-metal heels were anodised in a sort of transparent light blue colour which looked astonishing set below the shimmering dark blue uppers. “Well come on then – put them on Loo!” said Velma, unable to contain herself. “Oh dear!” I stammered to Clarence “I’ve just spotted the size 7 printed on the underside. I’m sorry, but they are two sizes too big for me. They’ll never fit!”. “Ha Ha” chuckled Clarence “They assured me that American sizes are about two sizes larger than ours, and they’d fit you perfectly”. “Oh fiddlesticks!” spat Velma, “I take sevens, and for one ecstatic moment I though those fantastic shoes would end up on my feet!”. I placed the wobbling shoes on Clarence’s carpet and slid my feet into the beautifully styled little toe-boxes. Oooh! Although not as high as some of my pairs of heels, these had such a special feel to them – so sensuous with those unbeatably precarious heels. In actual fact, they were just a little big and loose on my feet, but I didn’t want to spoil Clarence’s pleasure by saying so. I needn’t have worried – he had become hypnotised! I took a little walk, doing a couple of circuits of the dining table, quickly discovering that these shoes were the most challengingly wobbly and unstable inventions yet devised by mankind! The girls giggled at my odd wobbles, but I couldn’t resist plunging towards Clarence, throwing my arms around him and saying “Oh they’re so beautiful! It’s the nicest present anyone has ever given me! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”. Coming out of his trance, Clarence beamed hugely, fetched in coffee and cointreau liquer for us all and regaled his admiring female trio with fascinating stories of life on board the Queen Elizabeth, the world’s largest ocean liner, and his adventures in New York. When he had walked from Pier 92 up West 52nd Street to Broadway, he hadn’t realised he was already standing in Times Square because he was looking for actually square like London’s Trafalgar Square. Being used to London’s helpful policemen, he approached a pair of New York cops twiddling their batons and said in his best Englishman’s voice “Excuse me officers, could you be so kind as to direct me to Times Square?”. One replied “A wiseguy, huh?” and the other one said “You oudda your tiny mind? Don’t bug the cops!”. Clarence promptly realised that he needed to make some cultural adjustments ‘pretty damn quick’! He and some fellow officers from the ship then went up to the top of the Empire State Building, and in the evening they had been to Radio City Music Hall (an enormous theatre seating thousands) to see the famous Rockettes dancers high-kicking in their high heels. “Mind you” said Clarence, “Their shoes looked positively low and clumpy compared with the fantastic shoes that you three lovely ladies turned up in tonight!. Do you mind if I have a proper look at them?”. Reluctantly, I temporarily removed my amazing new thin heels (I had already named them “Pin and Needle”) in order to join Velma and Madeline in showing-off our own normal stilettod footwear to Clarence. As he sat on his settee, hands clasped behind his head, we stood up – Velma in her 5” Italian sandals, Rita in her Regent Shoes 5 ½” purple courts, and me in marginally lower heels (because of my not-quite-better ankle), my 120mm “Alps” black patent courts. “Come on” I said, “A fashion parade for Clarence” so one behind the other we did three of four circuits around Clarence’s dining table. As we teetered and minced round and round, we became increasingly aware of his eyes becoming totally transfixed on our very high heels. He was following our every footstep. Starting to enjoy the dramatic effect we were having, Madeline said “Catwalk flipping girls!” so we all began exaggeratedly flipping our stiletto heels inwards towards the end of every pace. That sent Clarence simply bursting with excitement! As if that wasn’t enough, Velma said “Hold on just a minute”, and undid the ankle straps on her Italian stilettos, allowing them to flap around like mules, held on only by their toe-straps, as she did at home. That finished-off Clarence completely! As we glanced over towards the settee, he was having complete apoplexy! I’d never seen anyone’s face look so flushed and mesmerised. I suddenly got quite worried, shot over to put my arm around him and cried “Oh Clarence, are you alright?”. At that he began pulling himself together again, gave us all a bemused beam and said “My goodness girls, I just can’t tell you ……you three are just too much!”. “Well Clarence” I chuckled, “I think that’s quite enough excitement for you for one night! You calm down on the settee and have another coffee, but I’ll make it this time”. With that, I changed back down into my new “Pin and Needle” shoes and found my way into Clarence’s sweet little kitchen. But oh dear! I was stuck into the floor! My needle stilettos had sunk straight down through Clarence’s lovely expensive linoleum and into the soft wooden floorboards underneath. I couldn’t move! With difficulty I managed to prize one heel out of the floor and then the other, but each time I took a pace forward I was sinking down again! “Help, Clarence” I hollered. He came rushing in and I said how sorry I was to be spoiling his lovely kitchen floor. To my amazement, instead of being cross, he stood transfixed, his eyes on my sinking heels and said “Oh, dearest Lucy, please don’t stop! Please carry on making the coffee just like that!”. Love, Lucy
  8. Lucy's Story (37) Posted by Lucy on January 26, 2004, 10:32:05 Hi again all! My thanks to repliers to Instalment No. 36: RPM (welcome Revolutions Per Minute!!), Erica, Paul, Stu, Fred, Laser, Sinkem and Scuffy, and thank you Spikesfan for copying the instalment from Jenny’s Forum on the Megaforums “Stories” section. Thanks also to Megaforums repliers Bubba, Anita, JeffM, PJ, Richy, Stylettos and Warren. Here’s Instalment 37: By mid-January 1964, I was experiencing mixed emotions. Half of me was elated at my promotion (it was going brilliantly!) whilst the other half was missing Clarence who was nearing the other side of the Atlantic. My sprained ankle was now recovered sufficiently to just about cope with 4” heels, but I avoided anything higher for a bit longer. I realised how much I had been missing my heels! Although back up to 4” stilettos, I took it very slowly and steadily on my way to work, taking very careful steps and avoiding uneven surfaces. As I proceeded like this, I overheard one older woman saying to another “See, there’s another young lady who can hardly walk in those modern contraptions. Look how slowly she has to walk!”. “Yus” said the other one, “See wotchermean!”. I smiled hugely to myself, wondering what they’d think in normal times when I’d be veritibly whizzing past them in my 5” Regent Shoes at three times the speed that they could manage in their depressingly beaten-up elasticated flatties! The following evening at home, an American telephone operator rang saying we’d got a transatlantic call from New York. It was Clarence! “Hello Lucy” he said. “We’ve just tied up at Pier 92, Manhattan, at the bottom of West 52nd Street. Couldn’t wait to phone you! It’s so spectacular! We sailed past the Statue of Liberty with the New York Skyline in front of us and the Empire State Building dominating everything. I and two of the other new catering officers are planning to go up to the very .... but hey, that’s enough about me, I’ve had a great idea for you. When I get back to England in a week’s time, you’re invited round to my mews cottage. I’m going to put my professional catering skills to the test a cook you a bumper meal to celebrate your promotion and my return! And bring your two house-sharing gilfriends with you too. What do you reckon?”. Well, I reckoned! “That sounds wonderful” I breathed “Oh Clarence, please hurry back”. Velma and Madeline were mightily excited and impressed, even though they hadn’t met Clarence yet. I couldn’t wait for the days to pass! At last the big evening arrived. Inevitably, Velma put on her new Italian 5” stilettos and Madeline was still inseparable from her 5 ½” court shoes, even though she was never to master them entirely. For the first time since my sprain, I exceeded 4” and put one of my many pairs of “Alps” with the 120mm heels. Oooh, it was so nice to have a proper lift under my feet again for the first time in weeks! Armed with Clarence’s directions, we made our way towards his little rented home north of Marble Arch. Finding a terrace of tall London town houses (reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes in nearby Baker Street) we spotted a typical coaching archway set into the terrace, through which we walked to enter the old rear mews lane. The little cottages lining it on either side had originally consisted of stables for the townhouses on the ground floor with haylofts and storerooms overhead. It had become highly fashionable to convert these into little one and two bedroomed bijou mews cottages. Oh, but how stupid of me not to think – the surface of the entire stable-lane was utterly treacherously - rounded original cobblestones(!), and the numbering indicated that Clarence was at the far end! You’ve never seen such a pantomime! Mindful of my poorly ankle, I edged along the side, steadying myself against the cottage frontages and trying to walk in tip-toes using only the broad toe-box part of each shoe and not putting any weight on my stiletto heels. Velma and Madeline teetered, tottered and wobbled down the middle in their stilettos, clutching on to each other for grim death, letting out various little nervous giggles and squeals. Madeline’s heels, wobbly at the best of times, were flying inwards and outwards in all directions, whilst Velma’s slightly lower 5” Italian heels were even slimmer and kept getting stuck between the cobblestones. Any notion of the three of us arriving at Clarence’s looking suave and composed was destroyed by our having to run that unexpected gauntlet. As we came upon Clarence’s front door, already dishevelled and giggling, Madeline said “Ooh look! A shiny brass doorknocker in the shape of a high –heeled shoe”. “Ooh yes” said Velma as a rapped the heel of the brass shoe against the door, “Maybe this is Clarence’s way of reminding his high-heeled visitors of their ordeal across the cobbles!”. Hence Clarence being nonplussed upon opening the door to find three females chuckling helplessly. “Well hello, and do come in” said Clarence, bending forward to give Velma and Madeline a peck on the cheek followed by a hug and a fully-blown kiss for me. The door opened straight into the sitting /dining room which was was entirely candle-lit …… a magical fairyland! Clarence had laid-up the central table as if for a Queen’s banquet. On the rich tablecloth was gleaming cutlery, wine-glasses, flowers, shining candlesticks, condiments and ruby red napkins. Pausing only to beam at us and pour us all a glass of dry sherry, Clarence said “Make yourselves at home” and shot behind into the kitchen. “Oh Wow” breathed Madeline “He’s so handsome, Lucy!”. “Dead dishy!” agreed Velma, rolling her high heels from side to side as she always did whenever excited. “Ooh, look on the wall – Marilyn Monroe” said Madeline. It was a big framed picture – the now-famous one of Marilyn getting her skirt blown upwards over the subway vent whilst perching on fabulous slingbacked high stiletto-heeled sandals. We’d never seen it before, so it made a big impression on us (as it obviously had on Clarence!). Just then he emerged with the first of three wonderful courses – oysters and wholemeal wafer-toast. “Ah! Isn’t Marilyn’s outfit gorgeous” he enthused “But I see that by the looks of it, I’m privileged to be in the company of three delectable girls wearing even higher heels that Marilyn’s”. We all looked down, and back at the picture, and it was true! We felt like a million dollars! Take my tip – if you fancy being treated to the best dinner in the world – befriend a top catering officer! It was unforgettable! The oysters were followed my a small sorbet (sherbet in the US) “To freshen the palette for the main course”. Then in was pushed a small dinner-wagon bearing sizzling roast legs of beef, pork and lamb, plus plates of the most exotic vegetables imaginable. Clarence expertly carved our choices of meats and silver-served everything to the plates of his three stunned, astonished guests, deftly pouring each of us a superb glass of vintage French red wine. How on earth he managed to do all that whilst also sitting and eating with us, I’ll never know. The main course was swiftly followed by a “Clarence Special” home-made cherry pie and custard, before we finally relaxed over the cheese-and-grapes board and a glass of Clarence’s favourite port. “And now Lucy” said Clarence “A little something from New York from me to you!” and the other two girls watch open-mouthed as Clarence handed me a prettily-wrapped parcel looking suspiciously like the size and shape of a shoe-box! More Soon! Love, Lucy
  9. Lucy's Story (36) Posted by Lucy on January 21, 2004, 13:36:54 INSTALMENT 36 Hi Everyone! A big “Thank you” to those who responded to my Instalments 35a/35b – Spikesfan, Paul, Stu, Sinkem and Erica, and a big “Welcome” to new repliers RPM and Anita C! My eternal gratitude to gallant Spikesfan for his skills in copying-across those episodes to join all the others on “MegaForums” under “Stories”. I had a LOVELY SURPRISE last weekend! Fred posted to announce that Workman Publishing have produced a wonderful Shoe Calendar for 2004. See http://www.workman.com/catalog/pagemaker.cgi?0761130411. It has a shoe picture for each day of the year. The picture for 29 December 2004 there is a picture of a 5.1” Yellow Stiletto shoe with a blue bow from REGENT SHOES of London. Fred made my week, because as he said, Regent Shoes featured largely in my life and in many episodes of my Stories! The thought of Fred finding that modern calendar with a picture of the Regent Shoes 5" stiletto style is MARVELLOUS! It is probably the same style that I bought in white and wore at Little Canada Holiday Camp and loaned to the younger girl who entered the beauty contest. Later I bought the same style in black patent and other colours. Do you know, it's so sad - these days in London when I mention "Regent Shoes of Wardour Street", most people have never even heard of it and don't know it even existed. And yet in the 1960s it was the "Mecca" for London high heel enthusiasts and seemed to be at the centre of the Universe for me! Fred is offering that shoe picture for possible inclusion on the Forums. Wouldn’t it be great if it could illustrate my appropriate Story? It seems particularly apt that it was FRED who found that picture, because back in the spring of 2003, I happened to submit a small post on Lucy’s message-board to say that I used to buy some shoes called “Alps” (4 3/4" heels) from Regent Shoes. It was Fred who replied with some questions, and I thought the best way of replying was to recount my early days in high heels, and thus “Lucy’s Story” was born. So a double “Thank You” Fred!!! Here’s Instalment 36: As mid-January 1964 approached, my ankle was well enough for me to return to work, but wait for it …….initially only in (horror of horrors) flatties! Mummy had done her best to help. Before I left Surrey, she had bought me the nicest flatties we could find – black leather courts with very low-cut uppers and toe and 1 ½” heels with slightly scalloped-in sides. So wearing those, and with shame written all over my face, I reported back for work to our headquarters in Holborn. As I entered the office, Ricky Everson and the gang gazed at me in astonishment. “You look so different” said one of the girls “You just don’t seem like our Lucy without your skyscraper heels!”. It was meant as a compliment, but it only compounded my humiliation! “Come on” said Ricky “Let me take you in to Mr. Graham – that’ll cheer you up!”. Managing director Mr. Graham courteously welcomed us into his huge office and waved us into expensive leather-bound chairs. After enquiring about my ankle, Mr. Graham said “Lucy, you’ve done so very well in every way since joining us about four months ago, that Mr. Everson and I have decided to promote you unusually quickly”. The firm operated a chain of estate agents scattered throughout London and the outskirts, and I had been visiting them all to get to “Know the ropes” whilst running errands, delivering and collecting papers and files and assisting with any problems at the branches. Mr. Graham explained that they were doing increasing amounts of business with other firms of estate agents outside London who wanted their properties re-advertised within London itself a vice versa. “This calls for someone to visit each of these firms and to liaise with them to co-ordinate and develop this joint-promotion strategy. You are our lady! I am creating a new post for you, giving you a substantial pay rise, and promoting you to External Liaison Manager. Welcome to the Management Team!”. Ecstatic wasn’t the word! I don’t know how I stopped myself from diving over Mr. Graham’s desk to give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek! At 5pm I whizzed home as fast as my ankle would take me to gush out the news to Madeline and Velma, and to use our recently-installed new telephone to ring my parents. Madeline almost fell off her stilettos in amazement and Mummy and Daddy were thrilled to bits. To cap it all, that evening a telephone operator rang “Is that New Cross 2954? You have a gentleman calling long-distance call from Southampton”. It was Clarence! He was ringing from a connection on board the great Cunard liner before it set sail for New York. Almost before he could say anything, I blurted out the news of my promotion to managership. “Lucy, that’s wonderful!” he said. “I’ll see if I can bring a little something back for you as a celebratory present!”. Minutes later he said goodbye for twelve never-ending days. For my first new managerial assignment, I was sent north of London to an agency in Hitchin in Hertfordshire. By lunchtime, I had successfully taken on a portfolio of suberb Hertfordshire country houses on offer including a couple of mansions. Mr. Graham was going to be delighted! Upon re-emerging into Hitchin’s shopping streets (still frumping along in my flatties) I witnessed a most unexpected bit of high-heel entertainment. A woman of about thirty emerged from a lunch-restaurant wearing what looked like brand-new beige court shoes with 4” stiletto heels. On the pavement she was met by a loudly-spoken gentleman who seemed to be her husband and they began walking just ahead of me. “Hello dear” he said, “I see you’ve succeeded in taking the plunge this morning – your first venture into high heels! They look simply terrific, but how are you getting on in them?”. The lady then proceeded to give a fully detailed run-down (complete with demonstrations) of all her reactions upon wearing serious heels for the first time. “Oh” she said, “The split second I tried these on I felt so elevated and elegant (here she started exaggeratedly walking on tip-toes) that I found myself wishing that I’d had the courage to go into high heels years ago!”. At this point I put on my glasses to enjoy the show properly, and ‘Hubby’ told her she indeed looked elevated and elegant. “But I nearly didn’t buy them because on the shop’s thick carpet I found that the shoes were so wobbly because of the thin stiletto heels”. At this point she deliberately started demonstrating violent heel-wobbles as the walked, almost coming a cropper and visibly alarming ‘Hubby’, “But outside on the firmer flatness of the pavement I am getting more used to controlling them, although it’s still a bit scary – quite exciting, in fact!”. By this time ‘Hubby’ (and me) were both riveted to this practical dissertation. She continued “Yes, but I’m noticing another worrying thing, the high heels make my knees stick forward (whereupon she walked semi doubled-up with her knees very bent and thrust forward like an overdone Groucho Marx impression) and I’m not sure if that will look very nice”. At this ‘Hubby’ reassured her that on the contrary, she now looked like the best girl in the Universe. “Oh good” said the new high-heeler, getting more and more into her subject “But another thing, although the height of the stilettos made me feel very elegant whilst I stood there in the shop, once I was walking all round the town this morning, they made me feel as if I was sort of loping along – as if my foot was having to sort of climb down over the steepness of the shoe to meet the ground at each new step” whereupon we were treated to a sort of bow-legged John-Wayne-in-cowboy-boots impression! “And it was worse still trying to walk down that hill back there” she said, and promptly did an even more hilarious impression of John-Wayne-goin’-down-into-a-very-steep-canyon! “Well …..” said ‘Hubby’, only to get cut off by “But I found the solution – it’s great – SMALL STEPS” she shrilled out triumphantly, attracting the attention of various passers-by, and she proceeded to mince along for the next two or the minutes doing farcically small little steps, raising a pair of very limp wrists up in front of her like a begging dog and balancing/teetering along with her bottom wiggling in time with the tiny paces. “See - Now I can do it without loping!”. It was all so hugely entertaining that by this time I was having to stop myself from exploding with laughter and sheer glee. Her demonstrations were fantastic, and she was ENJOYING her new high-heel experience so much, and so was ‘Hubby’ and so (secretly) was I! But OH NO!, just then they arrived at a car, got inside and drove off in a trice before she could treat us to any further antics. From that day to this, I’ve often tried to imagine what other reactions and demonstrations would have been forthcoming had they not reached their car so quickly! I was chuckling about it to myself all the way back to London, and that even I was bursting to tell Velma and Madeline all about it. They collapsed in mirth, and were not content until I had put a pair of my highest stilettos on for a few minutes (despite my poorly ankle!) and demonstrated every one of her hilarious capers in full, walking up and down our front hallway as I did do. It ended up with Velma opening a bottle of wine (ostensibly to celebrate my first day business management) and all three of us rampaging back and forth around the house doing our “Hitchin High Heeler” set of impressions in our highest stilettos, finally collapsing on to the settee in uncontrollable laughter. It put the full recovery of my ankle back by some days, but it was worth it! It remains one of my most memorable days ever for two completely different reasons! Love, Lucy
  10. Lucy's Story (35b) Posted by Lucy on January 18, 2004, 0:29:50 Ricky Everson had said that I needn’t report back for work until my ankle was sufficiently recovered, so I stayed with my parents until the first week of January, 1964. In due course Daddy motored me back up to my London home on Telegraph Hill near New Cross. It was super to resume house-sharing with Velma and Madeline again. They were always very competitive with me regarding who was wearing the best high heels. Despite me being out-of-the-running with my ankle, Velma immediately made me envious by showing me a pair of stunning Italian high heels that her parents had bought for her whilst out in Italy over Christmas. They were so slinky! The pencil-thin black patent stilettos heels were 5” high and the toe band was yellow ochre in colour, but with thin black straps behind the foot and over the instep. Velma was wearing them all over the house mule-fashion with the ankle straps undone and flapping and trailing everywhere. Talk about attracting attention to them! Madeline was very kind and bandaged-up my angle everyday to give it strength. She said Clarence had telephoned several times to ask me out on a dinner date! Clarence had been in my thoughts a lot over Christmas and I accepted his dinner invitation very gladly. My ankle being only partially recovered, Madeline lent me a pair of her 2 ½” Audrey Hepburn style kitten heels. As I stepped from the taxi to meet Clarence in the restaurant, immediately he eagerly gazed down at my feet and I noticed that thgen his face appeared to fall rather. However, he was as good-looking and courteous as I had remembered, and we had a memorable meal and hit it off very well on our first proper date together. But underneath all his charm and excellent manners, I thought I detected an underlying insecurity or nervousness, or was it my imagination? During the meal, I learned that he had only been subcontracted to the Connaught Rooms caterers for a limited period, and that within a week he would be going “On the boats” and sailing from Southampton to New York as a catering officer on one of Cunard’s transatlantic liners. “Oh” I gasped, “No sooner have we met than I won’t be able to see you any more”. “No, No” he chuckled, it’s only five days crossing the Atlantic each way and two days at each end ad infinitum. I’ll be back for two days every fortnight! Oh, and Lucy, before we part tonight, can you please tell me your shoe size?”. Love, Lucy
  11. Lucy's Story (35a) Posted by Lucy on January 18, 2004, 0:40:59 Hi Everyone! The valiant Spikesfan has done it again(!) - he’s copied-across my Instalment 34 on to MegaForums “Stories” section – thank you so much! And my thanks to the HUGE number of corresponders then and since: Roger, Laser, Sinkem, Paul, Erica, Stu, Marc, Mario, Arno and Robbie, plus Chris asking about her heel-leaning problem and even some dubious posts from Gunter and Carl. It was sweet of the rest of you to rally round and defend me against those – I really appreciated that. Some of you even worried that it would put me off from continuing my story, but they were the first unpleasantness in the many months that I have been writing for your all, so as long as the vast majority of you seem to like reading my memories of my life in high heels, I hope to keep going! Here is Instalment 35. I’ve split into into parts a) and because as one posting it was too long to be accepted: As Christmas 1963 approached, Daddy duly drove up to London and collected me and my sprained ankle from the Webbs’ town-house in Mayfair, thanking them for looking after me so well. Before taking me down to Surrey to spend Christmas with my parents, Daddy drove me down to South-East London to collect sufficient clothes and bits and pieces from my house which I rented with Velma and Madeline. Both of them were aghast when they saw my purple ankle which was now up like a balloon. “Oh my gosh!” said Velma “That could just as easily have happened to either of us because we’ve both been wearing our highest stiletto heels for our own staff parties and other pre-Christmas celebrations, haven’t we Madeline?”. Madeline nodded gravely, nervously rocking her own inevitable purple 5 ½” stiletto courts from side to side a little, but I said “Well no, it really only happened because I got unnecessarily frightened in the dark streets, and tried to run away from an apparent pursuer” and I told them all about Clarence and how he turned out to be soooo dishy! They listened wide-eyed spellbound as I related all my recent adventures until Daddy said “Come on Loo – get the last of your things together because it’s time we got you down to Surrey”. I had the humiliation of grabbing a few pair of dreaded flatties and slippers to nurse my sprain and a suitcase of clothes, and off we went. Christmas 1963 was so BORING! Bless there hearts, Mummy and Daddy made me very welcome at their home and did their best to entertain me in every way, but despite Mummy’s lovely Christmas cooking and plenty of card games and chess, lying around with my ankle propped up for days on end was so frustrating! Boxing day was more interesting because Mummy had a bright idea. “I know Loo” she said, “Even though you can’t wear your high heels just yet, you can help me have a shoe-sort! You can lie there whilst I bring down my entire collection of shoes, plus all of your own ones that you’ve left here with us. We’ll decide which ones to throw away, which to keep, and which need attention”. That bucked me up! It was lovely to see all of Mummy’s many high-heeled shoes starting to appear in rows on her drawing room carpet. Then all of my left-behind ones began appearing over to one side. The floor was virtually covered in pair of high heels. I’d never seen the ‘family collection’ all together in one big spread, and they looked simply wonderful! “Oh look Mummy!” I said “You’ve kept your very first pair stilettos your ever bought – the brown 4” ones that I misappropriated for the class dance and ruined by wobbling horrendously in them”. “Yes” laughed Mummy “That’s one of the pairs that I will never part with because of all the happy memories that they bring back”. I was intrigued to see that she had still kept some of her pre-stiletto high heels of the 1940s and early 1950s. The 1940ish ones looked very frumpy with thick-heels and high uppers, some of them being lace-ups (I hadn’t heard the term “Oxfords” in those days). Some of the later 1940s and early 1950s ones were much more attractive. The heels were getting higher and less chunky. One or two of them had waisted (‘hour glass’) heels in a Louis style, whilst others had an elegant taper to quite a slim base of an inch or less and looked about 4” high. I asked her “When did you start wearing fairly high heels?”. Mummy said “Well, when we got married in the 1930s, I had nothing except lowish heels. However, during the war, two or three times I saw King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (mother of the present Queen Elizabeth) inspecting the bomb damage caused by the German blitz. Although they were coming to look at piles of rubble, she wore some MARVELLOUS heels! She was very short, but those super high heels (probably about 4 ½”) made her look taller and a lot more regal! They made a big impression on some of us onlookers, and I thought that if it made her look so much more elegant it could do the same for me!. I immediately loved the elevated feel that those high forties heels had, and I bought those various pairs that you see here. The next big impact was when stiletto heels suddenly arrived in the shops for the first time in the mid 1950s. Stiletto heels gave a whole new lease of life to my high heel wearing – they suddenly made me feel twenty years younger than I had felt wearing the clumpier forties heels.” I was fascinated hearing Mummy saying a lot of this for the first time. My eyes roved along the rows of shoes with Mummy’s usual heel-height of 4”, when suddenly she noticed my look of surprise when I noticed three pairs of much higher heels that I had not seen before “Oh!” she said, starting to blush. “Daddy bought these for me at various times, but they are all too high for me to wear outdoors”. I was most curious. She must have been wearing them indoors for Daddy when I wasn’t around! The stiletto heels were all at least 5” high, two being black patent courts, and one being a navy blue slingback style. The things we learn about our parents! In the end, we didn’t get much sorting-out done because neither of us could bear to throw any of our lovely high heels away! Continued in 34( Love, Lucy
  12. Lucy's Story (34) Posted by Lucy on January 8, 2004, 17:08:43 Hi Everyone, and Happy 2004! My astonishment and heartfelt thanks for receiving such an amazing number of postings in reply to Instalments 31,32 & 33 from Sinkem, Paul, Puffer (Puffer, I posted a second reply to you about ballroom dancing), Jim, Carl, Stu, Raincat, Heelman, Scuffy, Robert, Mario, Gunter (Hrrmph!), Laurie, Hank, Arno, Robbie, and of course Spikesfan who has been camping out in front of a bookshop waiting for this epistle! Thank you to all those who expressed concern about my wellbeing, and I apologise for being slow to submit this instalment due to having a very hectic Christmas 2003 visiting Mummy and various other friends and relations, and going down to Wiltshire for the New Year’s Ball. Anyway, it’s nice to be back home and back on Jenny’s Forum and here is Instalment No. 34. Shoes don't play a big part in this episode (sorry!), but the event proved to be a turning-point in my life in high heels: As my pursuer rushed up and towered above me, I lay sprawled face-down on the ice-cold pavement, my knees rammed on to the stone flags and my glasses being pushed painfully into my face as I cringed down in sheer and utter terror. As I sobbed in uncontrollable fright, I sensed the big man’s arm scything down at me and braced myself for the first almighty blow. But what was happening? I became conscious of the gentlest of touches caressing my shoulder and the very kindest of voices talking to me. My “assailant” was speaking in one of the tenderest, most sincere and beautifully spoken voiced than I had ever heard, a rich voice exuding compassion, concern and tenderness. “Oh this is so dreadful!” he said “Are you badly hurt? I must get you to safety. Where can I take you?”. For a little while I was too shocked and shaken to say anything at all, but then a flood of relief overcame me. I tearfully blurted that I was only trying to get to my parents’ friends’ house in the next street. “Come on then, my name’s Clarence and the least I can do is to get you safely there”. With the strongest but gentlest of arms he lifted me on to my feet, but my poor sprained ankle would not take any weight. Clarence sat me on the kerbside, unzipped and carefully removed my green leather boots with the 5 ½” heels and told me not to put any weight on my sprained left ankle. My fashion bag had gone flying, depositing my lovely new silver 5” high heels into the roadway, but Clarence gathered these up in one hand and put the other arm around my waist to support me as I limped along the remainder of Waverton Street in my stockinged feet. Considering that I had been fleeing from him only minutes before, I felt strangely reassured in his secure, manly hold. Within another five minutes were were at Nora and “Spider” Webb’s lovely cosy traditional London town house where I had arranged to stay for the night. Sydney “Spider” Webb was a retired professional colleague of Daddy’s and the couple had become very great friends of my parents. “Oh my gosh” said the Webb’s as they opened the front door and caught sight of me “Come on in both of you and let’s get Lucy on to the couch”. Clarence hesitated, but I beckoned him inside too, explaining to Nora and Spider that Clarence had rescued me and helped me walk with my injured ankle. It just didn’t occur to me to protest that it was Clarence’s fault that I had sprained my ankle running away from him, but in any case Nora caught sight of the 5 ½” stiletto heels on my green leather boots and called them “Ridiculous” and said that “You young whippersnappers must expect to sprain your ankles if you try to wobble along the street in stilts like those. In the 1920s we were considered too daring if we danced the Charleston in 2 ½” heels!”. Spider chipped in and said “Leave poor Lucy alone dear. She’s looking very white and shaken and is obviously in great pain”. “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry” exclaimed Nora “A really bad sprain can be more painful and serious than a break – I’ll prepare a cold compress immediately”. Nora had been a hospital nurse, so she gave my ankle the best of treatment whilst Spider asked Clarence whether he had enjoyed the staff Christmas ball. “This is tricky question” I thought. But to my surprise, Clarence answered “Yes!”. He told Spider and Nora that he was a senior catering supervisor at the Connaught rooms all that night and that he had noticed me dancing at the ball. After his duties has ended, he had started walking back home to his rented mews cottage near Marble Arch when he noticed me walking ahead of him through ill-lit streets. He had tried to catch me up to offer to walk me back in his safe company. He was most concerned when I started to run away through further sinister streets, and even more aghast when I fell over! He expressed his relief that I was now with caring friends, and said he should leave so that they could put me to bed. He shot me the tenderest and most admiring of glances and was gone! The following morning was Sunday and I awoke to the chimes of the Webbs’ grandfather clock. My ankle had swollen-up to resemble a purple field-hockey ball, but Nora brought me breakfast-in-bed and told me to stay put. As the morning sun streamed through the windows and I ate my soft-boiled-egg, I found myself re-living the adventures of the night before. The wonderful dances in my silver 5” stilettos, the compliments, the job promotion promises and then the nightmare walk and fall and Clarence’s “rescue”. Was Clarence a knight in shining armour who had born me to safety, or was he really a dangerous man who followed innocent young ladies struggling along in impossibly high heels? Would I ever know? I could not get him out of my mind. And he had gone so soon after helping me to the Webb’s. He’d vanished back out of my life, but for some reason I could not stop thinking about him and his gentle looks and voice. Even when the Webbs had helped me downstairs to sit and keep warm in the drawing room by their lovely coal fire, I couldn’t get Clarence out of my mind. Just then the door bell jangled. It was Clarence! My heart missed a beat. “Hello, I hope I am not intruding, but I could not let this morning pass without enquiring as to how poor Lucy’s sprained ankle is getting on”. Nora and Spider greeted Clarence, ushered him in and thanked him profusely for looking after me, and brought in coffee and biscuits before withdrawing to let Clarence and I chat to each other. Maybe I should have been furious with him for being the cause of my initial fright, but as he sat there in the morning light, I noticed how he looked even more handsome and kind than I had remembered from the previous night. Despite looking reassured when I said the ankle was not broken, he seemed somewhat distraught and preoccupied. “Look Lucy” he suddenly blurted out “I must tell you this. It wasn’t altogether true when I said I simply wanted to offer to walk you home safely. I had been following you from the ball because from the moment I first set eyes on you I have been utterly besotted! When the bandleader asked for applause for the vision of loveliness he was right! I couldn’t concentrate on the catering details last night because my eyes were fixed only on you. The way you sparkled and smiled at everyone, the poise of your head on that long neck, the way you glided to and fro in that evening dress and danced in those hypnotically high heels, and your whole personality! I’ve never come across anyone like you!”. My heart missed two more beats and I was dumbfounded! Clarence mistook my silence for disapproval and quickly said “Oh, I am so sorry, I should not have come here or said a word”. “No, no” I quickly said, “I’ve been thinking about you too. You’ve been so very kind and considerate. I was actually running away in case I was being followed by some lecherous man who had got the wrong idea from seeing my ultra-high heels (at this point Clarence’s face blushed a deep red) but it was such an enormous relief when you treated me with such kindness”. I continued “The Webbs have telephoned Mummy to tell her about my ankle, and Daddy will be taking me down to Surrey to recuperate at their home over Christmas before I return to my London job (and a promotion) in the New Year”. Without even thinking it through properly, I heard myself adding “Here is my telephone number if you’d like us to meet up in January”. It was only after he’d gone that I thought “Was that wise?”. Love, Lucy
  13. Lucy's Story (33) Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 15:52:15 What a memorable celebration! All too soon the last dance was over and it was time to change-back into my green coat and boots for the short taxi ride to my parents’ friends’ flat. But no taxis! Outside there was a vast queue of our guests already waiting, but London’s taxi drivers were hard-pressed because of the seasonal demand and very few were coming to our queue. “It’s not that far” I thought, “I’ll walk instead, despite these boots with their nigh-impossible heels”. So, now carrying my evening dress and shoes in the bag, I set out Westwards along Piccadilly and past the Royal Acadamy and Burlington Arcade. Was that an office friend trying to catch up with me? No, I must have been mistaken, There was no-one behind me that I recognised. As I passed the Ritz, I started feeling creepy as if someone was deliberately following me. “No” I thought “It’s my imagination. If take the next right turn towards my destination, they’ll go straight on along Piccadilly and I can stop fretting”. So I suddenly turned sharp right into Half Moon Street and scampered up there as fast as my wobbly 5 ½” heels would take me. But the footsteps didn’t carry on going straight past – they followed me round the corner. Now I knew the full fright and fear experienced by someone being FOLLOWED. These days they call it “Stalking” and I think there are laws and things. But then I just new I was being followed! Keep calm Loo! Trying to go too fast with tired, tired feet and ankles on those outrageous heels, I turned left into Curzon Street and quickly right into Queen Street. The footsteps did the same! “Yes, that's it!” I panted “I’ll double back! He can’t possibly risk give himself away by following suit”. So I turned West into Charles Street and doubled South down Irfield Street back towards Piccadilly. It was to no avail! Almost choking with terror I looked around to see a shadowy figure of a man relentlessly following my every twist and turn! Think Loo! The only hope was for me to try and reach my accommodation address before he reached me! Back into Curzon Street and completing a full circuit of that block, I cut back along Charles Street again, my breath coming in ever shorter gasps, my heart pounding and my feet, ankles and calves killing me. I turned North into Waverton Street knowing that our friends’ house was just past the far end, but despite my frantic scurrying, my follower’s footsteps were now closing on me very fast. I tried breaking into a run, but my mega-heels only permitted fast but tiny steps. “Hang on in there Loo” I gritted, and suddenly AAARGH! my left heel collapsed completely outwards, spraining my ankle and sending me spinning and crashing down hard on to the pavement! As my pursuer reared over me,I lay with my knees and my flinching face pressed hard into the pavement, instinctively using both arms to shield my head from the inevitable assault. Love, Lucy
  14. Lucy's Story (32) Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 15:39:49 I immediately loved the feel of my new all-silver court shoes. They had been so beautifully made for me by Regent Shoes using soft, top quality leather and their exotic pencil-thin 5” heels were perfectly set in relation to the shoe. Just before removing my glasses for the evening and entering the party, I checked myself in the mirror and could hardly believe it was me I was looking at! It was more like looking at a ravishing stranger from Paris-society fashion magazine! As I entered, my shoes sank in and decadently wallowed around in the thick, luxurious carpet. A magnificent eight-piece society band was already playing as we mingled for pre-dinner cocktails and several of the fellas from our central office team were already making a beeline towards me. Just then, to my delight, Maud and Freda and the other three of four members of our informal “Five Inch Heel Club” arrived in force. They hadn’t let us down! Even though I could only make out their shoes by shortsightedly peering through narrowed eyes, I could immediately see that ALL of them had put their very best and highest heels on, as we had excitedly plotted and schemed beforehand. Their dresses look gorgeous, ranging from black to purple to crimson to gold to white. All of them except me had their black shoes on – all the same 5” style from Regent Shoes! Although the fellas had seen some of those shoes before, they’d never seen them in their full glory with the lovely dresses and special party hairstyles and evening make-up. The fellas stopped short in their tracks and looked speechless! In fact, they all looked so smitten that they got quite embarrassed to walk the final few feet towards us to say hello! Needless to say, the entire evening was hugely enjoyable and an enormous success. My only sadness was that it came and went so quickly. The time just whizzed away! When the entire assemblage was seated for dinner, I was placed next to department head Ricky Everson, with the managing director only three of four seats away. Ricky looked me up and down and said the most wonderful things. He turned out to be married to a lovely wife and to have three super children , but it didn’t stop him showering me with compliments. He said my dress sense was every bit as magnificent as my work contribution! He said my diamonds were like shining stars against the background of my midnight blue dress which he likened to the loveliest night sky. He looked at my red-brown hair and said it was reminiscent of a magical cloud reflecting the after-glow of a romantic sunset, and looked down at my silver 5” heels and said they were like two long, thin silver comets flashing their way through the inky darkness of the sky! I had never heard such romantic thoughts, and I’ve remembered those words right up until this day. “Lucky Mrs. Everson!” I murmured to myself as I tucked into the excellent Christmassy dinner that was now before us! After the managing director’s inevitable speech welcoming all the contingents from the firm’s various branches throughout London and the suburbs, and praising everyone’s contribution to the success of the firm, the remnants of the meal were cleared away and the band changed up a gear from background music to signify that it was DANCING time! To my utter astonishment and disbelief, as the band struck up, the very first person that Mr. Graham chose to dance with was me! He shot over, asked me if I would care to do him the honour our joining him for the first dance, and off we went – first couple on the dance floor and sailing around like a galleon! Thank goodness that Mummy and Daddy were keen ballroom dancers and had nurtured me into the art. Mr. Graham, the perfect and dignified “City gent” with a military bearing and a pencil-thin moustache was a magnificent dancer despite his maturing years. Savouring the delicious feel of my new silver shoes and the gentle but so-assured lead of Mr. Graham, I allowed myself to be glided, spun, sashayed and cavorted around that wonderful ballroom. By the time the dance finished, I was in a euphoric dream, but became aware of a round of applause from the entire throng of nearly 200 guests! I thought they were just clapping Mr. Graham, but the bandleader was announcing “A well-deserved hand for the managing director and together with that young vision of loveliness!”. Before the end of the evening, Mr. Graham beckoned me over to sit beside him for a moment. “Lucy my girl” he said, “You may not think you’ve seen much of me since I first interviewed you for the job. In fact, this must be the first time we’ve actually spoken since. But that hasn’t stopped excellent reports of your progress from reaching my office on a regular basis. I liked the look of you then, and I like the look of you now. It seems that your business skills are just as spectacular as your dancing skills and your unforgettable dress and shoe sense! You’re destined for big things in the firm. Don’t tell your two fellow trainees just yet, but as from the New Year there’s a spot of advance promotion for you! You’ve earned it. Mr. Everson will give you the details before Christmas. Oh, and thanks for the best dance I’ve had in years – you glide around in those shoes like an angel!”. I couldn’t believe I was have such a wonderful evening in every sense. Luxurious dinner, surroundings and music, admiring and appreciative men and now some sort of job advancement! Just then my attention was drawn to the fellas and to the girls in our “Five-Inch Club” they wanted me to join their big circle formed to dance the “Hokey-Cokey”. Da-Da-Dee-Da-Da-DAH! (played the band) “You put your left arm in, your left arm out, in-out in-out shake it all about” etc. etc. After going through the various usual knees, hips, ears etc. The girls hijacked the commentary and shouted out “You put your HIGH HEELS in, your HIGH HEELS out, in-out, in-out, you wobble them all about” etc. and that fitting finale got the renewed attention and an enormous cheers and applause from everyone! It was hilarious, and we all strutted back to our tables lifting and kicking our high –heeled feet up towards all concerned. My shoes had looked and felt like a dream and I was proud of all the other girls in the 5" Club too! Love, Lucy
  15. Lucy's Story (31) Posted by Lucy on December 14, 2003, 10:52:18 Hi again everyone! I’m overwhelmed by receiving an even bigger response than ever to my Instalment No. 30! It’s been so lovely to hear not just the odd word, but some very interesting in-depth responses from Spikesfan, Puffer, Paul, Sinkem, Heelman, Jim, Stu, Steve and Romu. Thank you all so much, and my special gratitude to Spikesfan for copying-across my last two Instalments to be saved for permanent viewing under “Stories” on MegaForums – now totalling 30 instalments covering 1956 to 1963! Well, straight on with my Instalment No. 31: Late 1963 shot towards by like lightning as we approached the Saturday in mid-December on which my firm’s grand Christmas dinner-dance party was to be held. I was getting quite nervous about dressing sufficiently well, knowing that the eyes of all the firm’s most senior people would be on me and the other two trainee managers. The week before, I had already bought a new outfit especially. I had already got the “travelling there” combination (the amazing green boots with the 5 ½” heels and the matching coat from Mummy and Daddy), and now I had bought the evening dress and shoes. I had previously ordered the shoes to be especially made for by Regent shoes – plain courts with very low-cut upper and toe, the slimmest of 5” stiletto heels for dancing in, and a mirror-silver finish throughout. In Regent Street I had spotted the most stunning evening dress imaginable! Midnight blue velvet, with a plunging neckline, the thinnest of shoulder straps and a classic body-hugging line. Unconventionally, I had the floor-length dress altered to just-above-ankle-length as I could not bear my dazzling, flashing new shoes to be hidden from view! I tried to plan everything. I would travel into central London wearing my green coat and (with some trepidation!) the matching mega-heeled boots. To save me carrying everything, My boss Ricky Everson kindly offered to take along my dress-bag containing my evening dress and shoes so that I could change into them upon arrival. To avoid my having to make a second long journey in those challenging boots, some friends of my parents had agreed to put me up for the night in their flat near Grosvenor Square, only a few streets away from the Connaught Rooms. So, late afternoon on the big day I duly set out on my usual route from the top of Telegraph Hill towards the long, long steep descent of Pepys’ Road leading down to New Cross Railway Station. But Oh Dear! As the flat top of the hill gave way to the descent, my elated mood changed to growing helplessness and panic. In my excitement, I had overlooked the fact that I had never tried going steeply downhill in my new 5 ½” heeled boots. I COULDN’T DO IT! Not even slowly! The hill-aggravated heel-height was pitching my insteps/legs/body so far forwards over the sole of the shoes that there was insufficient toe-length ahead of me to stop me pitching forwards on my face! The geometry just wasn’t there! I was unexpectedly stuck – stranded a short way down the long house-lined descent clinging grimly to a gatepost to stay standing. There were no taxis, no telephone boxes, no people on that chilly, darkening afternoon. Help! I’d got no other footwear with me and I dare not be late. For a short stretch I even tried walking down backwards, using the hill to reduce rather than exaggerate the heel height as I’d seen a few girls doing in similar difficulties in the past. I’d never felt so ridiculous! To cap it all I’d not gone far like this when I backed smack! into the thick trunk of one of the pavement’s plane trees. This shook me up no end and reduced me to further despair. I had to take off my glasses and wipe away some tears. In sheer desperation, I reluctantly resorted to my old trick which I had developed to help my go down short steep ramps and slopes in high heels – rolling my ankles inwards toward each other, inclining both stiletto heels inwards at about 45%. This markedly lessened the effective height of the heels and allowed me to carry on down the hill without being pitched forwards. It can be extremely humiliating being seen walking with one’s heels tilted right over like this, as I have seen other ladies do on occasions. I was particularly loath to do this to my new boots because I feared that that descending the full length of Telegraph Hill would distort them permanently, but I had no choice, I had to get there! The relief gained by tilting my heels like that was equivalent to changing-down into heels of about 4" instead of 5 1/2". Thank goodness, this enabled me to reach the bottom of the hill without toppling over, and it was with enormous relief that I reached the oh-so- welcome flatness of New Cross Road and click-click-clicked along to catch my train to central London. Emerging from Charing Cross Station, during the final walk through Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, I was dismayed to find that my tilted-heel ruse had indeed caused some distortion to the boots, making the heels want to keep going inwards under me, even on the flat. However, at least I managed to keep them passably more upright than they had been, and if I am totally honest, the little bit of lean now seemingly imbued into the heels actually helped my cope with their extreme height for the remainder of the walk to the dinner-dance. As I teetered past Gilbert’s famous statue of Eros, one of the many youths that always seemed to be sitting on the steps of the plinth bellowed a deafening “Cor, look lads, with the altitude of her heels, where’s her oxygen mask?”. Huge guffaws immediately rang round Piccadilly Circus which seemed to bring every eye for miles swivelling round upon me and my mega-heels. I went bright red and all I could think do was to try and keep my leaning heels as vertical and possible and to walk the final short stretch with as much dignity as I could muster. As (at last) I entered the imposing foyer of the Connaught Rooms, a waiter immediately sprang forwards proferring a champagne-laden tray, and both Ricky Everson and the Mr. Graham the managing director were on hand to greet me with a courteous bow and kiss me on the hand. From the utter dejection of staggering down Telegraph Hill, I was instantly transformed into feeling like a duchess in a world of chandeliers and elegance! They both topped it off by saying that the finery of my green leather coat and boots made it seem as though royalty was sweeping in! I said jokingly “Hold on a minute, I haven’t even changed for the function yet!”. Ricky gallantly steered me towards the ladies’ section in which I could change, and fetched the bag containing my dress and shoes. I couldn’t wait to slip into them. I washed, donned new undercothes, clipped some fresh new nylon stockings on to my suspenders, donned my fabulous new velvet dress. Those were the days when most ladies still wore “real” jewellery. I put on my diamond earrings and diamond brooch, and Mummy had loaned me her wonderful diamond necklace and diamond bracelet. My hair wasn’t overly long at the time, but I pulled it all up off the neck and ears into a little “bunlet”, secured with a delicate little diamond-mounted Victorian hair-clasp. I freshened-up my bright ruby-red lipstick and nails, and lastly (always lastly!) I slipped my feet into those brand new specially-made flashing silver 5” stiletto courts, adjusting myself to the feel of the new heels. Oooh! So exciting! It seemed so strange and wrong-way-round to be changing down in height from outdoor to indoor heels (5 ½” to 5”), but the sheer beauty of those dazzling all-silver stiletto heeled shoes made me feel just like Cinderella at the ball! It was time to emerge! Love, Lucy