Spikes Fan

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!

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

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.

Hi Lucy. I responded to your email to me. I hope you got it. Love, Spikes Fan

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!!

There is a good lesson to learn in your story! Obsessions can be too much. Thanks for the story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucy's Story (30) Posted by Lucy on December 10, 2003, 9:10:38 Hi Everyone! And what a super set of responses to my Instalment No. 29! It was so kind of Sinkem, Paul, Heelman, Stu and Laser. And such interesting comments – Thank you! To be surrounded by so many keen guys (even via cyberspace) at my age makes me feel that life is just beginning again! Still, I suppose I’m only a little older than Lulu, and she’s a great high heeled girl still going from strength to strength! So let’s get on with more of my reminiscences with my Story Instalment No. 30: Christmas 1963 was fast approaching; my first since starting work in London. My boss Ricky Everson handed each of us a letter from the managing director inviting us all to the firm’s staff Christmas party. It was to be held at the prestigious Connaught Rooms in Piccadilly in mid-December! We girls asked Ricky if we could bring guests, but he said sadly not because all the staff from the various London branches were also invited, and it would be a fairly massive attendance even without guests. “Well” I thought “Even without a guest, it will be a chance to rally-together our little ‘5-Inch Club’ including Maud, Freda and the rest to give the fellas some exciting shoes to look at!”. The same day that I received my party invitation, Mummy telephoned. She never rang me at work unless it was something urgent. “Come down here on the train as soon as soon as you can” She said, “And bring those bizarre green stilts with you”. She meant my new bottle-green knee boots with the 5 ½” brown stiletto heels that she had disapprovingly seen me buy only a week before. She rang-off leaving me wondering what on earth was the matter. Were she and Daddy planning some ritual burning of my disgraceful boots on a ceremonial funeral pyre in their garden? Well, still mystified when Saturday came round, I dutifully caught the train down South through the countryside. However, I didn’t travel wearing my maligned green boots because I had already ascertained that very frustratingly the 5 ½” heels were too high for me to wear out and about for any appreciable period of time. I have only got small size 5(UK) feet, and a 5 ½” high heel on me is in effect equivalent to at least a 6” heel on girls with larger feet! They felt very extreme. Instead I carried the green boots in a carrier bag and was met by Mummy at the railway station. Without any explanation she took me to the town’s most exclusive clothes shop, pointed at the window and said “Look Loo, a gorgeous leather coat in exactly the same bottle-green colour as your new boots! They’re just made for each other!” The coat looked like a million dollars! “But, but” I stammered, “I thought you didn’t like the boots”. “Loo” she said “Those boots are quite the most beautiful and fantastic that I’ve ever seen! When you first tried them on it was just that a twinge of jealousy overcame me because I can’t even get up into 5” heels let alone 5 ½”. I’m sorry if I went a bit ‘sour grapes’ at the time. But on you they looked out of this world, and having now spotted this matching coat, I couldn’t wait to tell you. It has even got a little brown fur trim on the collar matching the brown colour of the heels!” In a trice I was inside to try on the coat. “Put your boots on first” said Mummy, so I changed into them, again feeling the upward thrust of those incredible heels and having to adjust my posture to retain balance. The coat fitted perfectly. It was meant to be! The colour match of the bottle-green leather was perfect, and so was the length, coming down just far enough to cover the tops of my knee-boots. The effect of those tall green boots extending down from the matching leather coat and culminating in the sky-high brown stiletto heels was utterly stunning! Quite magical! Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was really me! Even my dark red-brown hair and ruby-red lipstick were hugely complimented by the leather coat’s green colour. The sales assistant and Mummy were both genuinely gobsmacked, and kept on looking me up and down from head to stilettos with their mouths open in admiration. At this point my bubble suddenly burst because I caught sight of the price ticket. “Oh, good grief” I wailed, “I could never afford this Mummy!”. “Happy Christmas Loo!” chuckled Mummy “Daddy and I agreed that if it fitted you, the coat would be your Christmas present!”. Before this had even sunk in enough for me to express any thanks, Mummy had paid in full for the coat and said “Come on Loo, keep the whole outfit on and come home with me to show Daddy!”. One devastating problem! In the sheer excitement of admiring the overall effect and buying coat, I had quite overlooked tha fact that the 5 ½” stiletto heels had been proving too high for me to master for outdoor use. But how could I possibly take the boots off again just as Mummy had especially got me the wonderful matching coat? No way! So with my insteps forced past the vertical and every muscle in my body feeling as though it were stretched to its very limit, I gingerly teetered all the way along the High Street (getting countless stares and admiring glances) trying to keep up with Mummy who was veritably sailing along in her usual 4” stiletto courts. It was so challenging! The 5 ½” heels began to feel like 6” heels and then 7” heels and then 8” heels as my taut muscles got more and more tired. I really didn’t think I’d make it all the way to my parent’s front door, but somehow I did, although my calves and ankles felt trembly toward the end, and my whole body felt the strain. Daddy opened the door to us, and I’d never seen his face look so impressed about anything! “Oh Loo!” he exclaimed “I’m speechless! You look TREMENDOUS! I’ve never seen you look so pretty or glamorous! Mummy had shown me the coat in ther shop window and had told me about your highest-ever heels, but what a combination!”. Having thanked them from the bottom of my heart for that simply perfect coat, I staying with them long enough to enjoy one of Mummy’s lovely meals after which I excitedly told them about my invitation to the firm’s Christmas party in London. “Oh good” said Mummy “The perfect occasion for you to give your new coat and boots a proper debut journey from your place to the Connaught Rooms and back!”. . . . . . . . . Ulp! More soon! Love, Lucy

Lucy's Story (29) Posted by Lucy on December 7, 2003, 17:46:21 Hi Everyone! Thank you to Erica for responding to my Instalment No. 28a (Corns!) and to Eva for expanding and clarifying one of my points. And of course, a special thank you, as always, to dear Spikesfan for gallantly copying-across No. 28a on to Megaforums. Since you started preserving my stories there, I see they have now had nearly 2,000 visits! Apologies for the recent sparsity of my instalments – I’ve never known such a busy autumn at my business! Anyway, here we go with Instalment No. 29: 1963 was my first year living and working in London, and as the autumn grew colder and wetter, my flat-mates Velma and Madeline both asked me why I didn’t own any boots. I just didn’t! Probably because I just loved wearing my “Alps” and other stiletto court shoes everywhere so much. The previous winter of 1962/3 had been the worst since 1947, with interminable snow, ice and constant cold. However, I hadn’t needed boots then because it was only a few hundred yards daily walk in my stilettos along the cleared pavements and I reached the Business Academy. But the much larger amount of walking now needed in London was a different matter and I had already slipped badly on some icy patches more than once. Just by chance, Mummy rang up from my parents' Surrey town and said “Loo, I need some new boots. If I come up on the train this Saturday, will you take me to those nice London shoe shops you keep talking about?”. I duly met Mummy at Charing Cross and thinking we could both search for boots together, I eagerly found a taxi to take us straight to my beloved Regent Shoes in Wardour Street. Although Mummy has always been a most ardent fan of heeled shoes, she looked in consternation at the great selection of boots and said “But they’ve all got high heels! Where are the practical flat ones?” I was aghast! I couldn’t believe it was my very own Mummy saying this! She continued “Much as I love my shoes to have high stilettos for parties, special occasions and even for ordinary outdoor summer wear, boots are a different matter. They are practical items and should have flat, stout soles for good grip and a warm, comfy upper and leg!”. I could have sat down and cried at such a humiliating notion, and it was one of the few times in my life when I found myself totally at odds with Mummy – I could have throttled her! But instead I stoically put on a forced smile and steered her away from Regent Shoes gorgeously exotic boots and flagged down another taxi to Mike’s more general shoe shop in Oxford Street. Velma’s boyfriend Mike was a genius with all the ladies! He winked at me and craftily brought out and armload of all the WORST and frumpiest pairs of flat boots to show Mummy. Some had ghastly elasticated sides, other had awful sagging legs that furled around Mummy’s ankles and others looked only fit for mucking-out the dung on a farm. “Well” said Mummy “Maybe a teeny bit of a heel would save them from looking too awfully clumpy”. Mike winked at me again and came back with a stout pair of hide boots with the most DREADFUL clunky 2” heels I’d ever seen. “Oh no!” said Mummy “Perhaps the heel could stand being a bit higher and slimmer than that”. Eventually, Mummy chose a pair of passably elegant brown leather boots with fairly slim 3” stacked-heel knee-boots that she ended up being so delighted with, that she suggested I should plump for the same model as well. I tried them on to show willing, but after wearing very high-heeled shoes every day, I knew that 3” heels would feel almost as dowdy as flatties. Mummy’s consternation returned as I organised a return taxi to good old Regent Shoes, where I had spotted some super knee boots with the 4 ¾” “Alps” stiletto heel. “Sorry” said the assistant “None available in your size at present, but wait a minute!, we do have a superb pair of our custom-made boots just declined by an esteemed lady customer because we made them in the wrong colour. A wonderful boot, but the heel could well be too high for you at 5 ½ inches?” “5 ½ inches!” I gasped. I had never owned any shoes with heels over 5”, let alone boots! Mummy had started scowling in disapproval! “Well” I said tentatively “Maybe I could just have the tiniest peep?”. Oh! They were BREATHTAKING!!!!! Gorgeously thin, thin, thin, soft, soft, soft bottle green leather throughout, and the heels! – high, high, high needle-thin 5 ½” rapiers in a shiny rich dark-brown finish with copper-coloured metal tips. They reminded me of the heel-height that I had seen “Cleopatra” wearing in that very same shop and later when she won the beauty queen contest. “You can’t possibly hope to travel to work and back on those heels Lucy” snapped Mummy (she never called me “Loo” when she was miffed!). “Perhaps not” I murmered “But I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!”. I slipped my feet into them, zipped-up the long zips, tingled at the voluptuous feel of the kid leather enveloping my feet and legs, and gingerly stood up. Wham! I’d never felt a heel-thrust like it! Looking in the mirror, I saw that my insteps had been pushed right past the vertical! Oooops! Steady! Talk about precarious! It took virtually all of my muscle-power to adjust my body against pitching forwards on to my face! “There you are!” said Mummy “You can’t hope to walk properly. Let’s leave it.”. But I had GOT to have them! I needed them more than anything else in the world! What could I do? Yes! Eureka! I tried-on and quickly bought a pair of much cheaper black boots with with a comparatively modest 110mm (4 1/4") stiletto heel for "everyday" winter wear, I told Mummy I was also having the voluptuous 5 1/2 inchers to "Spoil myself". I had to make sure she couldn't see just how much of my earnings I was having to pay at the cash desk! However, the combination of the gloriously soft green leather and the gloriously high,high heels felt so heavenly that I could not bring myself to take them off, so I made the mistake of wearing the 5 1/2 inchers out of the shop. Before we even reached Leicester Square I realised that walking in that new height was so difficult! I had to go so slowly and take such small steps. And I couldn't suddenly stop! Due to the heel height, The toes of my new boots were somewhat tucked under my insteps instead of sticking out in front, so there was nothing there to plant forward if I wanted to avoid getting run over! It was a whole new challenge. Mummy also pointed out that I was having difficulty keeping both stiletto heels upright as I walked, with a triumphant "I told you so" tone of voice. "Well, give me a chance" I said, "It's my first time, and I haven't had any practice at home yet!". When I proudly showed Velma and Madeline my two new pairs of boots, they said the green ones were "Unbelievable!". Trouble was, as usual, Madeline had them on her own feet in seconds! Over the coming weeks, I was determined that I would master those incredible boots, and in the meantime I wore my other new black 4 1/4" stiletto boots to work every day, changing into my higher "indoor" court shoes when I got to business. The harder leather of the cheap pair of boots was unpleasant to walk in at first, because it was too stiff. It held my ankles immobile like a straight-jacket, whereas I like to "live" in my heels and feel them moving and swaying under me as I glide around. Mike suggested softening the boots by rubbing-in Neatsfoot Oil throughout - a good tip! It worked wonders, causing that pretty stiff leather to become so much better that it felt almost as soft as my very expensive bottle-green boots. Now I could really enjoy the feel of the heels on both pairs of new boots! Love, Lucy

Lucy's Story (28) Posted by Lucy on October 30, 2003, 22:23:14 Hi everyone! Sorry that this instalment has taken a while - things have been very busy at business! In the meantime though, thank you Spikesfan, Laurie and Stu for suggestions re. the eventual publication of these instalmants of my story as a complete book! This is my instalment No. 28 written on 30th October 2003: By the autumn of 1963 I had started seeing a nice boyfriend called Charles, a trainee London accountant. One weekend before the bad weather set in he invited me on a day-trip to Brighton on England's South coast. Neither of us drove, so we went by train. I wore a nice fawn-coloured dress and my latest pair of high-heeled shoes. They were gorgeous! They were dark-brown leather with slightly 'waisted' 4 1/2" heels which got very thin half-way down and then flared out slightly to about 1/2" diameter at the steel tips at the bottom. They were low-cut courts, and the toe-part of the vamp had a saucy open slit about 1" long running forward for towards the pointed toe, dividing the toe-upper into two, revealing what they now call some "toe cleavage". The leather was as soft a silk and caressed my feet to perfection! Charles was the perfect gentleman. Upon reaching Brighton, we started off with a visit to the wonderful Brighton Pavilion, with Charles opening all the doors for me to pass through(Click, click, click!). After a super lunch he suggested that we take a stroll up one of the two famous Brighton Piers, and I unknowingly agreed. Within moments of setting foot on the pier, OH! One of my high heels had gone down between the wooden planks of the pier and had stuck! Ever the gentleman, sweet Charles bent down and pulled at my shoe. The bottom of my heel flared out sufficiently not only to get stuck in the gap, but to make it very difficult to pull out again. Eventually he managed, and placed the shoe on the pier where it swaying from side to side waiting for me re-insert my foot into it. The thrill of putting on any very high-heeled shoe has never left me, so as I stood there in the sea breeze steadying myself by holding on to the shoulder of the kneeling Charles, it was a sexy moment for me as my foot slid down again into the so-soft leather. Giving him a "thank you" kiss, I held his hand as we resumed our perambulation along the pier, but within moments "Uh!" - my other heel had sunk into the pier and pulled off my foot. The faithful Charles again gallantly kneeled down, extricated the high heel from the boards and proferred it to my naked foot. This time I found myself enjoyed inserting my foot even more than the first time as he gripped the shoe to steady it. Needless to say, it soon happened a third time and I thought I noticed that Charles was starting to hold my rescued shoe more caressingly and intensely this time. However, he said "Look, should we not abandon this idea, the cracks in the pier are starting to scuff and scrape the leather on your wonderful high heels!". By now I was secretly enjoying myself more and more. All Charles' bending-down and fuss and attention and the foot-inserting was far outweighing the scuffing of my high heels, which I could always get re-covered. "No" I said, "Don't let my silly shoes spoil our walk to the very end of this famous pier and back!". Thus we continued, inevitably with the heel sinking and being rescued ritual being performed time after time after time. I have never forgotten it because it was having a strangely erotic and growing effect on me that I've never quite understood. Having to manipulate my high heels out of the cracks every few paces, and continuously offer them on to my feet, Charles appeared to be getting similarly aroused and flushed. Some onlookers were most amused by my high heels continuously getting stuck, but Charles was too involved in the whole thing to notice! By the time we reached the sheltered seating at the end of the pier, Charles and I were so aroused by those shared high heel sensations that we flung ourselves into the most passionate embrace that we had ever had! The only thing that cut this short was the pull of repeating the sensations on the way back down the pier again! You'd think getting a heel stuck would be irritating, but with Charles acting the perfect gentleman each time, It was all so sensuous! I don't know which of us enjoyed the whole thing more! In fact, it was somewhat with reluctance that we both approached "Dry land" once more and saw the heel-sinking coming to an end. However, as we stepped from the wooden planking back on to Brighton's hard pavements, a fresh sensation became apparent to me. When the plank-cracks had constantly yanked-off both shoes from my feet, the pulling must have stretched or distorted my shoes because they no longer gripped the back of my feet, instead slopping off-and-on, off-and-on. Because the toes of the courts had that open slit running half-way down them, they didn't grip my toes nearly as well as most court shoes, only the very last bit of the upper at the point of the toe remaining to give any grip. This allowed both shoes to swing hugely off-and-on my feet with every place I took. Being used to maintain ultra-smart standard with the high heels I work to the office, this felt slovenly, but as I adjusted to the sensation, increasingly erotic, especially as I became aware of Charles being hypnotised afresh by the wildly provocative slapping and slopping of those far-from-dull high heels! There was so little toe-grip that now and again one or the other would fall off altogether as I walked, and once more Charles would stoop down, rescue it and slide it back on to my foot. He was loving it! So was I! It was one of those memorable days that we both wished would never end! As we returned to London together, tired, somewhat footsore but ecstatically happy, we both agreed how dull the day would have been had I not worn those very special waisted-heel shoes! I promised Sinkem (loyal fan of my stories) that I would include a few more of my sinking-in-heels memories at some stage, but that's all for now. More Soon! Love Lucy.

Lucy's Story (27) Posted by Lucy on October 8, 2003, 23:52:42 Hi everyone! Thankyou for the simply overwhelming response to my Instalment 26! John, Fred, Erica, Jim, Stu and Sinkem all posted very interesting responses (several from some of them), and as always, trusty Spikesfan duplicated the instalment over on to MegaForums to join the other instalments as a permanent archive. Thank you Spikesfan. Well, I'm starting Instalment No. 27 on 8th October 2003, and here it is: Do you remember Mick, Velma's boyfriend? He was the one who played a prank on the art gallery visitors by making the rubber floor-protecting heel-covers higher than they really were. He eventually got the sack for carrying on that hilarious trick once to often, and then promptly got a shoe salesman's job in a big Oxford Street shoe shop. Well, once we had all moved to our London house, Velma was able to see much more of Mick, which was great for her. Also, sometimes Velma, Madeline and I would go shopping in Oxford street on Saturdays (our day off) and would visit Mick's shop to see him in full swing. As a good-looking guy, he was very popular with the shoe-buying girl customers, but he hadn't lost his sense of humour. If a very meek girl came in asking for little 2" kitten heels, he would deliberately emerge from the back carrying the highest pair of heels in the entire shop to the utter horror of the victim, but then he would say "Only joking!" and bring out the correct low pair from behind his back to the young lady's intense relief. Conversly, If a daring young lady asked for the highest heels in the shop, he'd have fun by keeping those behind his back and first offering them hopelessly low almost flat shoes to enjoy the expression on their face! Whenever one of his customers had just donned a pair a really high heels, he would look ultra-serious and say "Just check the heel-height by seeing whether you can walk right around the shop two or three times on tip-toe without letting either heel touch the carpet". He and we were inwardly chuckling merrily whilst the customer went round and round carrying out this charade. Another one was "You need to make sure you can balance on one leg for three or four minutes". At the end, he would again say "Only joking" in such a warm and friendy way that the girls loved it, and often came back before long to buy more shoes from him! Another of his favourite japes was to bring out two subtly mis-matched shoes. He would let them try a 3 1/2" heel on one foot and hand them a similar-looking style but in a 4" heel on the other foot, and enjoy watching them bobbing up and down in bewilderment. Or he would bring out a pair in the same style as each other, but with one shoe being one size smaller, and watch the customer trying to force it on! In every case he carried it off with such good humour that he succeeded in making them share the joke. Apparently a ghastly matronly lady had bought a pair of 4 1/2" heels the week before, especially to wear them to her cocktail party. Even when she came back whilst we were there and said disparagingly "I can't get on with these absolutely dreadful high stilts - I want my money back!", Mick handled her with the utmost grace and charm, and eventually succeeded in getting her to exchange them for a pair of lower heels rather than losing the sale altogether. Quite often, Velma invited Mick back to our New Cross house. We had some hilarious and also very interesting evenings as Mick regaled us with stories of his shoe-shop experiences. He always got particularly enthusiastic when groups of two or three or more ladies came in to getted fitted-out with identically matching high-heeled shoes. Apparently this happened surprising often, being necessary for stage performers (singers, dancers etc.) and also for air hostesses, cinema usherettes and other types of staff who were expected to wear identical uniforms. According to Mick, the interesting thing in that situation was the different reactions from different girls to the same model of shoe. If one girl liked say, a shoe with a 3 1/2" heel, one or two of the group would say it was "Much too high" whilst another girl would usually say it was "Far too low". Eventually a compromise concensus would be agreed, but sometimes resulting in one or two girls struggling with the chosen height, with others looking disgruntled at how low and easy-to-wear the same height was! The most extreme example of this was apparently when a twenty-strong ladies choir from Wales arrived in London to give a concert at the Wigmore Hall (near Oxford Street). At the mid-day rehearsal, the conductor had noticed how varied and ill matched their footwear was, ranging from stodgy flat lace-ups to mocassins to stack-heeled brogues. Hence it was agreed that they would all visit Mick's shop together, to see if they could find twenty matching pairs of smart, black shoes in all of their respective sizes "Say, about 2 1/2" heels?". As it turned out, after scouring through just about style in the shop, Mick found that the only model available in sufficient quantities to suite all their sizes was a shiny black patent plain leather court with a 9cm (a little under 4") stiletto heel. Again, some of the women looked very excited about the prospect of wearing those, whilst a handful were totally aghast! Anyway, in the end it was "Take it or leave it" because no other style was available in sufficient quantity. After Mike had succeeded in getting all 20 of them fitted-out (with one or two of them muttering that they had 'Never worn high heels before in their lives'), they finally looked at themselves in the shop's mirrors, and every one of them had to admit that they did look extremely smart and attractive. At the leader of the choir's suggestion, they all decided to leave their new heels on for the short walk back to the Wigmore Hall 'To get accustomed to them before the concert'. Mick said it was an incredible sight to see twenty ladies in shiny black brand-new unfamiliar stilettos heels all suddenly flood out into Oxford Street and make their way back up to the hall. All the clickety-clicking sounded like a bunch of horses cantering by! After singing in their concert, the choir must have stayed the night in London because the following morning several of the Welsh ladies came back into the shop in ones and twos asking to see Mick. Two of them said that although they had always been to timid to wear high heels before, it was WONDERFUL, and could they buy extra pairs of different styles for their own individual wearing. One even bought a pair of 4 1/2" heels "To please my husband"! Another lady said stilettos were too wobbly to wear in the choir's future concerts, so could Mick find her a similar style but with a thicker, more stable heel. Blade-heels did not exist in those days, but Mick found her some with waisted Louis heels for greater stability. Another lady brought her standard-issue stilettos back and was about to ask for a lower heel, when she had another look in ther shop's mirror at herself and decided at the last minute that the issued 9cm stilettos looked to good on her that she decided to keep them and persevere in getting used to them. Of course, some years after that, things changed in the world of pop groups etc. so that these days most singers etc. have co-ordinated but not identical clothes and shoes. however, in those days people adhered stricty to identical uniforms for certain things, so it did give rise to certain problems when those groups, choirs etc. were all expected to wear identical heels! I'd love to have seen all twenty of those ladies walking to the Wigmore hall in their matching skirts and their new, matching high heels! More soon! Love, Lucy

Lucy's Story (26) Posted by Lucy on September 23, 2003, 3:41:17 Hi Everyone, and especially to those who kindly responded to my Story No. 25 - Erica, Fred, Sinkem, Steve and Stu. Here is Instalment 26, written on 23rd September 2003: As Velma had predicted, my very sexy new 5" black patent stiletto heeled courts with the very low-cut uppers and toes caused somewhat of a sensation on the first day that I wore them at work. It was the first day that I had worn anything that high during business hours. They felt indescribably great on my feet. In fact, it gave me so much pleasure teetering around the desks and from office to office in them all day, that I found it quite difficult to concentrate on my work! Although now well-used to my various high-heeled 'Alps' shoes, the extra bit of heel-height of the new 5" heels sent a new muscle-tension rippling of through my body as I stood and as I walked. It was so EXCITING to feel that I could spend my business life in such heels, and go back and forth and everywhere looking and feeling so fantastic! Whenever I stood in discussion with anybody, I found myself tilting my heels gently to left to right to left to right just to remind myself that I really was in such ultra-high deliciously precarious heels. Most of the other office girls had noticed how stunning they were, and what a dramatic effect they had been having on the male staff. Apparently one or to of the bolder fellas had started going up to some of the girls and asking "Any chance of turning up in shoes like Lucy's?". As I have already said, a number of the girls had sidled up to me individually and asked where such high stilettos could be purchased. It was extremely flattering and also rather sweet. Hey Presto! well within a week, several of them must have been over to Regent Shoes for they started click-click-clicking into work in the same model of 5" heels! For the most part they looked really great - such high heels transformed them all! I could see that despite trying to keep up appearances, the firm's fellas were over the moon! They couldn't believe what was happening in their very own office complex! Suddenly the place was alive with high stiletto godesses (like Laurie!) tottering to and fro. Those shoes made all the wearers feel like a million dollars, and they all thanked me as the morning wore on. In a very nice way, it sort of brought us all closer together as a little group of about six, having something in common. Maud joked that we were the "Five-Inch Club", and the name stuck for a long,long time. She suggested that during the lunch-break, we should all treat the good citizens of London to our new heels and totter around into Shaftsbury Avenue for an inaugural lunch. As the lunch-hour began, the six of us all clicked and clacked across the marble foyer on our way out. We must have been quite a sight! No-one wore jeans or trousers to business in those days, only skirts and stockings. As we burst out on to Holborn's pavement (sidewalk), the passers-by became transfixed as they watched six business girls mincing towards Shaftsbury Avenue in identical shiny patent leather 5" stiletto heels, grinning away to each other and enjoying every moment. Remembering that all of the others were not particularly experienced high heel wearers, there were a good few heel-scrapes, wobbles and tilt-overs. Whenever someone's heel threw them off balance or one of our heels got stuck between paving slabs, a mini cheer erupted from the rest of us followed by gales of good-natured laughter. It was such enormous fun that I've remembered it with great fondness right to this day! A high-spirited lunch was followed by our return walk back for the afternoon's business. By this time the less experienced heel-wearers had started struggling a bit, the strain of being pitched up so high starting to show on their taut faces. Nevertheless, thay all gamely made their way back without anyone toppling over. Just as we were making away back across the foyer,who should come clicking into the building behind us but the prim and disapproving receptionist, now in her own pair of identical brand-new five-inchers! She was not managing at all well in them and, catching sight of the rest of us, she went all embarrassed, blushed furiously, took her heels off and suffered the indignity of pattering the rest of the way over the black marble floor to her vreception desk in her stockinged feet. Once back at their own office desks, the other girls could sit down and relax their feet. All except Freda that is - the young lady from the mailing department. Her job entailed constantly going around the entire building to collect mail for franking and processing. As the afternoon wore on she was very obviously suffering from sole-burn and general fatigue, but she gamely battled on in her pair to the end of the day, and still managed a smile whenever she passed me. Nearly all of the girls in the 5" Club became ardent converts to high stilettos having experienced that first taste of the thrill of wearing them, and observed the resultant impact on their colleagues, especially the fellas! However, none of them had the special extra opportunity of wearing them all over London, which was a large part of my early duties, and which gave rise to resultant adventures. More soon! Love, Lucy.

Lucy's Story (25) Posted by Lucy on September 19, 2003, 20:01:40 Hi Everyone! An astonishingly warm welcome to you all, especially to loyal responders Spikesfan, Puffer, Robert, Katie, Sinkem, Confession, Allheel, Stu, Erica and Julie! I hope the latter two found my footcare tips (instalments 24, 24a, 24b, 24c) useful for their bunions, tendons etc.! Well, with this Instalment No. 25, we return to my high heel adventures after starting my first job in London, Autumn 1963: After a month of agony in walking all over London to visit each of our branches in my high stiletto heels, thankfully my feet had become hardened and accustomed to all the walking, and had settled down. This was great! At last I was able to move up from my lowest 4" heels to show London the REAL Lucy! My first three pairs of 'Alps' court shoes (with their thin 4 3/4" heels) had become scruffy, so I re-visited good old Regent Shoes in Wardour Street and bought myself two more pairs of 'Alps' in different colours. Just as I was turning to leave, on a sudden whim I thought 'Hang on, I got my wonderful special 5" white patent leather courts here, I wonder if they do them in "business" colours like navy blue and black'. Their special private room for "Esteemed customers" happened to be free, so almost before I realised what I was doing, I had been in there, and found and bought the most stunning pair of 5" stiletto heeled plain shiny patent leather courts with low-cut uppers and the lowest-cut toe that I had ever seen, exposing the first part of my toes - what they now call 'toe cleavage'. They were incredible! In the mirror, my legs and feet looked like those of a top Hollywood film star! When I got home that evening, Velma and Madeline gasped in delight. They both said that they had never seen anything so lovely or so sexy. That gave me a problem though, because I had really been shopping for business shoes! "Are they too sexy for wearing for my work?" I asked anxiously. "Well" said Velma, "black is the right colour for business shoes, but they might cause a riot in your firm!". Madeline said "Well, I'm wearing my higher purple 5 1/2" heels to work everyday, but I'm a sort of backroom girl whereas you are in everyone's eye all the time, and your shoes are a lot more low-cut, revealing and provocative than mine!". This gave me a dilemma, and I had a rather sleepless night worrying that I had mis-spent my hard-earned wages on inappropriate shoes. However, in the morning the sun was shining and my shoes said "WEAR ME!", so I did! But oh my goodness - I thought I was used to 5" heels from wearing my white ones at Little Canada Holiday Camp etc., but these low-cut ones were a whole new and more difficult experience. The cut of the sides and toe was so low and skimpy that there was little to hold and support my feet! The morning's usual long descent of Pepy's Hill saw me wobbling horrendously on those unstable 5" stilettos and the uneven paving slabs didn't help. I was glad to get to the station without a sprained ankle and sat down for the train journey with great relief. Many 'City gents' still commuted wearing bowler hats and carrying furled umbrellas. One spent the entire journey with his eyes rivetted to my new shoes. Just before getting off, he stammered "D-d-d-d-d'you mind awfully telling me where you got those enchanting shoes - I would give anything to buy some for my wife?". I took great pleasure in telling him about Regent Shoes, and his admiration gave me great heart in continuing to wear those wobbly but very sensuous shoes. As I entered our firm's foyer, my 5" stilettos clicking (and wobbling) across the shiny black marble floor,I sensed the receptionist staring an my heels in disapproval. By the time I got upstairs and entered our office suite I was very nervous of the reception I would receive. Ricky Everson (my boss) noticed my new heels immediately. He sprang up form his desk, and shot forward to greet me. "My, my" he exclaimed "We've been shoe-shopping, haven't we Lucy! - WOW!". His undisguised approval gave me the confidence to wear them around the building for the rest of that first day, despite further heel-tilts and wobbles. During the morning break, I overheard a group of the junior office boys saying "knockout shoes!" and as the day wore on, the eyes of most of the menfolk were following my teetering steps around the building. In fact, now that Pepy's Hill was replaced by the comfort of the office carpet, I began to positively enjoy the wobbly feel of my new low-cut 5" stilettos and even treated the guys to a phoney wobble or two for good measure. Miss Sheridan's Acadamy had taught us to display the outside of the heel, so whenever I went over to stand at a filing cabinet, I would put my weight on one foot, and would elegantly put the other foot out to the side, almost resting its 5" heel horizontally on the floor. It was hilarious to turn and see the fellas change instantly from staring like mad to assuming an air of contrived indifference! Looking back, it was naughty and teasing of me, but the power and effect of those needle-thin 5" stilletos was impossible to resist! As that first day in my new shoes wore on, I suddenly remembered the good old "Catwalk Flip" and put it into effect along the corridors. O000oooh, the sensation of doing that in those already-wobbly shoes was indescribable! Those heels immediately complied to my ankle-flips and rolled dramatically inwards at the end of every pace. It was so delicious! I thought I was just practicing unseen, but instinct made me look back down the corridor and there were a whole host of fellas' heads all gazing at my every move. The following day, a pretty young secretary spoke to me in the ladies' room and sheepishly asked me where I had got my lovely shoes from. Then at lunchtime another office girl shyly asked the same question. By home-time, five of them had asked, not knowing about the others. The next day two more of the firm's girls asked the same question, including (believe it or not) the frosty seemingly disapproving receptionist who I had never seen wearing anything over 3". My new low-cut toe-cleavage black patent leather 5" stiletto courts had not only been accepted, but had been a fantastic hit with the management, but also Velma was right, they had been a sensation (albeit a wobbly sensation) with the entire head office! More soon! Love, Lucy

Lucy's Story (24c)

Posted by Lucy on September 12, 2003, 0:27:21

Hi Everyone!

I am writing this on 12th September '03. Before I move on with my main story, I've just though of a few more tips on footcare that I ought to include:

STRETCHING SHOES Having warned of the dangers of tight, pinching shoes, in the Instalment 24b I recommended getting a shoe-stretcher. I should have added that the stretching applies to leather (not various synthetic) shoes, and that the leather needs to be softened before the stretcher is used. Softening can be done by:

1) The traditional cobblers' trick that I used in the 1960s. They would fill all or part of the shoe with new, moist potato peelings, and leave for a while until the leather is moist and pliable.

or 2) Simply moisten the leather by inserting a wet sponge instead of the potato peelings.

or 3) These days most shoe shops sell a spray canister of stretching fluid. Whether this is any better than potato peelings or a wet sponge I don't know.

You can stop either 1), 2) or 3) from evaporating and re-drying too quickly by wrapping the whole moistening shoe in a waterproof polythene bag until the leather is fully soft and ready for stretching.

BUNIONS As well as ensuring that the shoe's toe-box is adequately wide, pressure on the ball of the foot can be relieved if you choose shoes that have an inbuilt cushioned insole. Further relief can be obtained by buying your own cushioned insoles and fitting them into the pair of shoes. However, check that the shoe is sufficiently roomy to allow the insole to be inserted without constricting the foot.

Also, various localised bunion-guards, braces and regulators are available on the Net from such suppliers as FootSmart: http://www.footsmart.com/ProductRecords.aspx?category=BT&pgtitle=Bunions/Toes/C...

"TOE-BURN" Virtually everyone suffers painful pressure-burn under the toes and ball of the foot in the early weeks (or even months) of first wearing high heels. Because the height of the heel throws far more than usual of your body-weight on to your tip-toes, your foot-soles in the toe-box becomes sore. Also the pressure impedes the blood circulation in the front part of your feet so that those tissues are not rejuvenated nor is the lactic acid carried away and you get gout-like pain which increases the longer you stand in the heels. Always try to walk around rather than to stand in one spot, as this helps the foot circultion.

Sadly, this toe-burn causes many first-time teenage girls to give up high heels for good withing days of starting! However, assuming that the toe-box is sufficiently wide and cushioned, it is amazing how the human body adapts itself to cope during a decent spell of regular heel-wearing. It takes for first to or three weeks of stubborn persistance in heels for the initial pressure-pains to begin to lessen, and after a number of further weeks of daily heel-wearing, the teething pains usually disappear altogether, opening the way for all-day happy heeling! One word of warning though; if you go back to heels after a few months in flatties, the pressure pain will return and will need to be worked-off once more by regular heel-wearing.

SORES AND BLISTERS Slightly loose-fitting shoes can cause WORSE sores and blisters than over-tight shoes because they slip around and rub areas of skin at every step.

Very loose-fitting shoes that slop off-and-on each foot completely are usually OK because they have little or no contact against the sides or back of the foot.

There remedy for slightly loose shoes is to fit an internal insole and/or heelgrip to make them fit snugly.

DEFORMED TOES The late 1950s ultra pointed "Winklepicker" toes were potentially ruinous to the footshape, forcing the toes inwards into a point, and the big toe joint to project, inviting a bunion. This fashion, amongst others, is with us again now.

Luckily these days, there are also many very stylish fashion shoes available with broader, rounder or squarer toe-shapes. Firstly, choose a sufficiently wide fit for your feet, if necessary widening the toebox with a shoe-stretcher. Then, if the toe is pointed, pack-in sufficient cotton wool (Arno suggests lambswool that ballet dancers use) or my later invention of papier mache to prevent the toes from sliding forward into the pointed front-end of the shoe. To ensure the preservation of parallel, straight toes, perhaps sleep each night with soft rubbery toe-spacers between each toe.

Happy high-heel-wearing, Love Lucy

Lucy's Story (24b)

Posted by Lucy on September 11, 2003, 7:57:40

Hi Everyone! My special thanks to those who responded to my last two instalments - Puffer, Stu, SpikesFan, Erica and Julie, and to the indomitable Firefox for continuing to moderate this Forum of Jenny's and to Spikesfan for continuing to copy-across my instalments on to MegaForums.

Before I continue with my high heel adventures in London, I promised to add to the foot-care advice that I gave in Instalment 24a, so I am calling this Instalment 24b:

Many girls (and maybe even some guys?) are put-off wearing high heels because of resultant foot or tendon problems. However, my experience is that virtually all of these problems are preventable and/or reversible, given a little basic foot-care knowledge. It is so sad that many feel denied the thrill of wearing high heels when a little more understanding might re-open that pleasure to them. As my unfolding story relates, I have worn very high heels all my life(well, from 13 to 59 and counting) with no present problems, but only by taking very great care of my feet and tendons:

TENDONS/CALVES These can shorten unless a decent part of every day is spent in flatties/barefeet, and if tendon-stretching excercises are not carried out daily. I have dealt with this thoroughly in Instalments 24 and 24a.

To give fresh heart to those fearful of becoming a "permanent high-heeled woman" and terrified by gloom-mongers and biased podetricians, many of us have found that tendon-shortening is NOT inevitable and can be kept at bay. Laurieheels in her Training Diaries, (MegaForums 'Fetish Subjects')recounts still being able to go from 5" and 5 1/2" heels "In 0 to 5 seconds"! Erica posts that she daily wears 4" to 5" heels to work, and has no tendon-shortening problems. Barbara Windsor, one of Britain's most notable mega-high-heel-wearing figureheads for years ever since the old "Carry On" films, appeared this year in a newspaper photograph walking along the street in absolutely flat trainers! Maybe, for all I know, there may be some girls for whom any high heel wearing would cause irrevocable tendon-shortening, but all I am saying is that from my own experience, and judging by the other ultra high heel wearers quoted, due care and attention can enable us girls to enjoy the highest heels without becoming trapped into them!

CALF-CRAMPS I am sure we've all been gripped by the sudden spasm of a knotted-calf-cramp, particularly when in bed. Worse still is if it happens in the street when it can be caused by going into heels which are of unaccustomed height, too suddenly for too long. Your calves are subjected to being too tight for too long, and suddenly go into an agonising camp. Disaster! The only relief would be to relax the calves by removing the shoes and yet you are stranded on a busy pavement wearing your only pair of shoes! This can be prevented by only going into higher heels in gradual stages and taking shorter walks to start with. I also recommend the precaution of folding a flimsy pair of flatties into your handbag for emergencies! Given time, your legs, calves etc. re-adjust to coping with higher heels and you should be OK.

BUNIONS A bunion (Hallux Vulgus) is one of the commonest afflictions of high heel wearers. The main joint of the big toe becomes inflamed and swollen. The first symptom is usually a redness of the inner side of the foot at this joint and then some swelling. Then a callus can develop over the bunion, and internally a loss of mobility

of the joint and big toes can occur, together with an increase in pain. If untreated, this can further deteriorate into toe distortion, arthritis, bone stress-fractures and surface tissue ulceration!

Bunions are caused mainly by shoes (whether flat or heeled) being too narrow or too tight overall causing pressure on the toe-joint. A high heel exascerbates the problem by forcing more weight and pressure down on to the toe joints, but I have found that high heels alone are OK as long as my shoes are wide enough across the toe-joints.

Preventing bunions: Choose only wide-fitting shoes. If still to narrow across the toes, immediately get them professionally stretched, or if you have many such pairs, buy a shoe-stretcher NOW and stretch them yourself. The best range of stretchers that I have found on the Net is George's:

http://www.emocs.com/stretcher.htm

They supply shoe stretchers not only for the width, but also for the length, for the toe-height, for cowboy boots and for BUNIONS! They also do stretching-tongs for bunions.

Curing Bunions: Wear on wide-fitting shoes. Cool it for a while regarding very high heels (or all heels), or if you can't bring yourself to do that, at least change to flatties THE MOMENT your bunion starts hurting. Consult your doctor regarding medications to eliminate the inflammation and swelling. It is with it in the long run! When returning to stunning heels, do it with care!

CORNS Never let corny skin build up, especially outside your little toes. Remove it INSTANTLY and if necessary, daily with a blade-guarded corn scalpel. Also promptly stretch your shoes wider, as above!

Happy heeling! Love Lucy

Lucy's Story (24a) Posted by Lucy on August 28, 2003, 2:00:41 Cont. ... Sorry everyone! I must have inadvertantly hit the 'Post' half-way through Instalment 24, so let's just carry it on as Instalment 24a: 4. In bare feet, lean slightly forwards, bracing your hands against a wall, post, mantlepiece etc. Place the left foot forwards with the knee bent, and place the other foot slightly behind you with the knee straight, and lowering that heel to the ground (or as near as you can get!) with your weight on it. Then flexing the front knee further forward, allow your body-weight to stretch to calf/tendon of the rear leg. Then change legs and repeat, and so on, gradually moving the rear foot further back from the wall or post, increasing the stretch on the tendon. Do this slowly and steadily. Do not bounce your body-weight up down as you stretch the tendon as this could damage or tear the tendon in the process. Do this session (of at least ten minutes) at least once, but preferably several times a day. 5. When standing, if you find it impossible or extremely painful to lower your own heels down into the horizontal position to stand flat on the floor, put on the very LOWEST heels you can tolerate, and do the daily exercises in those. 6. Also, if you cannot walk at all without heels, put on the lowest you can tolerate, and not only use them for the exercise in item 5, but also wear them all the time, not going any higher unless having to wear higher heels for the odd special occasion. 7. In week 2, choose (or buy) heels ideally 1/4", but no more than 1/2" lower and repeat the exercises and daily living in those heels. Then, when you can stand it (usually between a week and a month), go down yet again in heel-height by a similar amount, and so on until you CAN again stand and walk barefooted on flat floors. 8. If, having 'gone completely flat', you feel that it is still a strain, optionally you can consolidate the stretching by temporarily going into "negative heels". These are special flat shoes where the your heels can sink further into the sole of the shoe than your toes - ie the reverse of high heels! This should not be overdone, but can help with just that last bit of tendon-stretching. 9. When you can tolerate walking barefoot or in flat shoes around the house again without any great discomfort (this took me about four months, but took Madeline over twice as long), start going for outside walks in flat shoes as frequently as possible, gradually increasing the walk from say, one to five or more miles. Then join an aerobic class and REALLY exercise those feet! 10. Still in flat shoes, start walking UP hilly streets, but ensuring that the back of each shoe returns flat-down on to the pavement with every stride. Or, in bare feet and the seaside, run UP the sides of sand-dunes with your whole foot contacting the slope. Those are very beneficial exercises. 11. To further consolidate having returned to again being able to "Go flat", stand with your toes on a firm step (the bottom tread on your staircase is as good as anything) and the backs of your heels in mid-air. With your hands holding-on to anything suitable, smoothly lower your feet from tip-toe to having your own heels lower than the stair you are standing on. Again do this for ten minutes several times a day, each week trying to go lower below step-level. 12. With bare legs and feet, do plenty of early morning exercises which benefit the problem: Standing with both feet together and flat on the ground, and with straight knees, bend over and touch your toes ten or twently times. Then, sitting or lying down, do plenty of ankle-flexing exercises, depressing each foot downwards as far as it will go, and then (very importantly) upwards as far as it can go. Do this thirty or forty times! 13. Another danger if becoming 'permanently high-heeled' is that your toes can become permanently stuck up at right-angles to your foot. Mummy's old Aunt Edna had this problem having worn high heels throughout her entire business career working in accounts for Vavasseur's, a silk firm in Cheapside near the St. Paul's area of London from about 1915 to the mid 1950s. The television newsreader Kenneth Kendell (now retired) was a descendant of the management. Although thick (before stilettos came in), great-aunt Edna's heels were always surprisingly high for the times (at least 4") because she was tiny (only about 4' 10") and wanted all the extra height that she could get. As she approached retirement, she succeeeded in gradually 'coming down' flat, but her toes stayed sticking up towards the ceiling and then became stuck that way with arthritis. She had the misfortune of ending up walking around in ugly surgical boots, especially-made with bulging toe-caps to accommodate her vertical toes for years, right up to her death aged 96. This can be avoided by plenty of flattie or barefoot walking each day, and when at rest sitting down or in bed, exercising the toes by curling them under the foot and plenty of general wiggling. 14. Remember, warm-up and soften the tissues with heat-treatment (and maybe a massage) before doing any of these activities, and whilst doing them keep your legs and feet warm with tracksuits, socks etc. Drink plenty of water during and after all exercises. 15. After reversing the calf, tendon and toe problems, think very carefully about how great a portion (if any!) of each day you dare risk in high heels, especially if they are ultra-high. Perhaps it varies from person to person. Some people seem to have much more supple and rubbery bodies than others. In my case, having successfully followed those guidelines and curing my comparatively mild problem, I have found ever since that as long as, on average, I spend AT LEAST 30% (but preferable 40% to 50%) barefoot or in flatties each day, and I do my exercises each day, then the problem does not seem to recur. There! that, I think, covers all the main points. However, on a personal note can I say to Cheryl how much I hope these tips and experiences help her, and Cheryl in the meantime, to help prevent you from sinking into the mud, can I suggest that boots with high WEDGES would present a much bigger and more coninuous sole-area to the mud than any heeled boot. To the ladies in general, of course if you prefer to choose to be a permanently high-heeled lady, simply ignore all the above tips and carry on wearing ultra-high heels morning, noon and night. However, if your fear a predicament like Cheryls, or wish to retain the daily THRILL of going from utterly flat up to stepping into 5" heels or therabouts (my main reason for looking after my tendons), or simply feel that you wish to retain the full use of your un-heeled feet as nature intended you to do, then good luck in keeping your high-and-low options fully open as girls like me and Laurie do. And finally, to conclude this instalment, note that Firefox, as a prelude to his own wonderful collection of high heels, includes a picture of a pair of flatties as "The single most important pair of shoes in everyone's collection!". Love, Lucy

Lucy's Story (24) Posted by Lucy on August 27, 2003, 23:40:53 Hi Everyone! Following-on from my Instalment No. 23, here is No 24 in which I comtinue to try and help Cheryl and anyone else interested in the high-heel-wearers' calf/tendon shortening problem: From my memory, The lady health specialist at the health farm wrote-down the following exercises and guidelines more or less as follows: 1. Until you have successfully reversed the situation sufficiently to be able to stand and walk comfortable in bare feet, either abandon high heels completely, or only wear them for a smallish part of each day. 2. Early each morning soften your tissues with ten minutes' heat treatment - the health farm's steam room or sauna, or at your home a hot bath (or these days, a jaccusi!). 3. If available, immediately afterwards further soften the tissues with a massage but only from a good professional masseur. 4. Lean forwards with your hands bra 2. Further