Spikes Fan

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 b) 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(b) Love, Lucy

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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

Spikes Fan

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

Spikes Fan

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

Spikes Fan

Lucy's Story (3
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

Anonymous

Lucy's Story (39)
Posted by Lucy on April 9, 2004, 15:32:17

Hi Everyone! I’m back with another instalment of my Life-Story in High Heels at last! I’m so sorry for the long delay caused first by having to wait for my computer virus to be exorcised, and second by having to deal with the backlog of computer paperwork which piled up as a result. Anyway, I’m now off business for Easter and sitting here this Good Friday 2004 with the sun streaming in and relaxing in my favourite mini-skirt and 5 ¼” mules typing for you all again . Many thanks to Spikesfan, Stu, Erica, Raincat, RPM, Paul and Mario for welcoming me back! I’m delighted to see that Erica, Stu and Paul have been posting magnificent instalments of their own high-heel diaries (Well done – great!), and here goes with my own Instalment 39:
I was horrified to find that my new high heels with the amazingly thin 3mm titanium heels were sinking right down through Clarence’s new linoleum kitchen floor. However, after rushing in, he stood there hypnotised, begging me to continue! Confused, I carried on making the coffee, getting trapped at every step! I kept having to prize-out my heels at every new footstep only for them to sink down into the floor once more. Velma and Madeline eventually came in to see what was happening, and found that Clarence seemed to be going into an ecstatic trance. We sat him down on the settee again and brought him around with the strong black coffee. “Oh ….. Woweee!” he finally said “Meeting the three of you will be the death of me!”. Just then, as I stood over him in the sitting-room, my needle heels sank down again, this time through his lovely carpet and into the wooden floorboards beneath. “Oh, no more!” uttered Clarence with a strangled gasp, “I can’t take any more excitement now ….. not tonight!”.

We three girls were astonished at the effect that we were having on Clarence. “It’s obviously our shoes” whispered Velma, and Madeline and I nodded in wonderment. “Well Clarence, it was a fantastic meal and a marvellous evening” we said “But it’s getting very late and we must be getting back now”. We weren’t looking forward to a repeat of tottering and wobbling across Clarence’s mews lane cobblestones in our ultra high heels, but pulling himself together, Clarence said “Hold on girls, I insist on telephoning to treat you to a taxi to take you door-to-door from here to Telegraph Hill”. How nice! As I fondly kissed Clarence “Goodnight”, the taxi driver’s eyes came out on stalks to see we three youthful girls with shortish skirts and ultra-high heels emerging from Clarence’s front door. As we luxuriated in the back of the taxi, Madeline said “I think I am beginning to understand why your Clarence chose a door knocker in the shape of a high-heeled shoe!”. “Ye-es” I said thoughtfully.

For the three of us house-sharing girls, the following morning was our lovely Sunday lie-in with breakfast in bed. The peace was shattered by the telephone bell. “Morning Lucy, are you hungry?”. It was Clarence. “Well, I …….” I began. “That’s the spirit!” said Clarence “Lunch at Claridge’s, 1 pm – see you for aperatifs in their cocktail bar!”. Still chewing the last of my eggs and soldiers (I always leave the sergeant-major until last), I arose like a zombie, had a bath and began dressing before I really knew what hit me. Obviously Clarence had time to take me to lunch before re-joining the “Queen Elizabeth”. So it was back up to central London again, but what shoes to wear? Loose-fitting and wobbly though my new “Pin and Needle” high heels were, I thought it would be most inconsiderate to Clarence if I didn’t appear in them, my lovely present from him! It was bitterly cold, but I was able to match the shimmery blue shoes with my shimmery blue warm Astrakhan coat. Velma said that seen below the coat, “Pin” and “Needle” looked out of this world!

I set out down the long and ever-challenging steepness of Pepys Road to catch the train. With every step I took, the steepness of Telegraph Hill
thrust my toes further and further forward into the front of my shoes which had already been somewhat loose, so that I was unable to stop both shoes from slopping off my feet at every step. The lovely blue uppers were very low-cut, barely covering my toes so that the slopping was very exaggerated. I thought I would be able to control them properly once I reached the flat street at the bottom of the hill, but this wasn’t the case!
The forward-pitching effect of the hill had pressed my toes forward with such force that they had snuggled right into the stretched toe-leather, leaving a gap between the back of my feet and the shoes. “Oh dear” I thought as I slap-slap-slapped along, “What is Clarence going to think of the slovenly way I’m wearing these shoes that must have cost him a fortune?”.

Worse was to follow! My needle-thin heels had been walking on paving stones, but at New Cross Railway Station was a sizeable stretch of newly-laid tarmac. The moment “Pin” and “Needle” encountered this soft, tarry surface, they sank right in! I was maroooned! I found that only by straining up and forward with each foot could I dislodge the heels, only for them to get stuck afresh at each pace. To make matters worse, a number or young louts gathered alongside (known locally as the “Deptford Dickheads”) and began pointing, laughing and jeering at my shoes. It was one of the most humiliating moments of my entire life! The marathon ordeal across the tarmac seemed never-ending and I was so relieved to reach my train and escape the gazes and taunts of so many people. But my heels! From the tips almost to the tops the blued titanium heels were covered in thick, sticky tar! And as I alighted from the train at Charing Cross, I also found that the shoes were slopping more wildly than ever. The repeated action of using my toes to yank them out of the tarmac had distorted and weakened the leather uppers. It took the very greatest toe-control to keep them on at all!

A disaster was becoming a nightmare. However, all I could do was to take a taxi from Charing Cross Station to Claridge’s world-famous restaurant and ask for help. As the taxi slid into Brook Street and pulled-up, my taxi door was opened by one of Claridge’s resplendant top-hatted doormen. A large, kindly red-faced man, he took one look at my tar-encrusted heels and said “Madam has been most unfortunate, but not to worry, I know what removes tar very easily - - - Petrol!”. Come and sit down inside, and if you don’t mind giving your shoes to the housekeeping department for a few minutes, I’ll see that they make them as right as rain!”. No sooner had my shoes been whisked away than the famous Barbara Cartland arrived for lunch with a friend, dressed entirely in pink, including her high-heeled shoes. Just behind her Clarence entered, but looked extremely crestfallen and nonplussed to spot me sitting on a cocktail stool in my bare feet.

“Look Lucy” he blurted out, “I’m sorry I made a fool of myself in front of you and Velma and Madeline. The three of you obviously realise by now that I’ve got a thing about high heeled shoes – they send me crazy. I’ve clearly alarmed you with my behaviour to the extent that you decided to come today wearing no shoes at all! Please tell me if you don’t want to see me again – I’ll quite understand!".

Love, Lucy

Anonymous

Lucy's Story (40)
Posted by Lucy on April 9, 2004, 23:26:06

Hi again everyone! It's great to be back, and I've just had such a wonderful set of comments from Sinkem, Paul, Richy and RPM - some of the best responses I've ever had to my stories. They say "Life begins at forty"; well, maybe it does if my Instalment No. 40 is anything to go by:

When Clarence mournfully told me he thought I had deliberately turned up at Claridge’s (possibly London’s top restaurant) with no shoes on, I exploded with laughter. “You silly old chump!” I chuckled as I sipped the fine Amontillado sherry that he had bought me, “I came in wearing
my gorgeous ‘Pin and Needle’ pair that you gave me last night, and they are being cleaned here by the staff as we speak. And just to cheer you up, Velma and Madeline and me are high-heel devotees ourselves, so we all think it’s rather sweet that our heel-wearing efforts have such a dramatic effect on you. Oh, and we all like your high-heel door knocker too!”. Relief flooded all over Clarence’s face. “Phew!” he said “That’s the best news I’ve ever had!”.

But then his face clouded again with even greater worry. “The thing is Lucy” he said, “I’d better get the whole thing off my chest. I’ve always had a fascination for high heels ever since I was young schoolboy. I have never been able to take my eyes off them.” He sat looking so forlorn and miserable that I wanted to give him a big hug. “And the worst confession of all is that the real reason why I followed you from your firm’s ball was because I was mesmerised by the incredibly high, precarious heels on your green boots. I’d never ever seen anything remotely like them! They were fantastic and I couldn’t bear to let them out of my sight. I followed and followed you and scared you and that was disgracefully selfish and cruel. And ever since then I’ve recriminated myself again and again for frightening you and making you fall over like that. I know that now I’ve told you the truth about that night you’ll never forgive me, and although I know you’ll never want to see me again, I know I’d never have been able to rest if I didn’t tell you”.

“Oh Clarence, you poor dear!” I said, wiping a tiny tear from his cheek. “I think I’ve known all along that it was my ultra high heels that caused you to start following me. But that became far less important than the wonderful kindness you showed to me when you helped me after my fall, and ever since then. You are such a very kind, lovely person, and now I just think of you as my darling Clarence, even with your funny little ways”. “Well ……” swallowed Clarence “This is unbelievable. I must be dreaming!”. “No, you’re not dreaming” I said, watching relief pour back across his face a second time, followed by joy. “Dearest Clarence” I found myself saying, “If it will really cheer you up, I must tell you that I’ve found myself becoming fonder and fonder of you, and now seeing you being so truthful and kind to me, I now know that I’m falling in love with you!”.

Clarence lunged forward and gave me the most huge kiss and embrace that I’d ever had, then he sank back looking stunned and utterly overcome with emotion. Just at that moment a beaming member of Claridges’ staff entered and presented me with my treasured “Pin and Needle” blue high heels, looking brand new again. The staff had cleaned them most wonderfully and I gave them a handsome tip which was well-deserved. All of this irregular activity had attracted the attention of the more sedate and dignified clientelle that surrounded us. Endeavouring to summon some sense of decorum, I tried to slip my shoes back on demurely so that Clarence and I could suavely walk arm-in-arm from the cocktail lounge into the restaurant. These attempts at dignity were undone when Pin and Needle CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACKED across the marble-floored foyer, drawing everyone’s attention to the fact that both shoes were slopping off my feet quite outrageously.

As we were seated in the restaurant, I blushed with embarrassment and apologised to Clarence for slip-slopping along in his lovely present so untidily. I promised to put heel-grips into them next time we met. “No, No!” he said, “Don’t your dare! Your crossing of the foyer in those high heels was so, so sexy! For goodness sake don’t ever dream of making those particular shoes fit properly!”. Well, as Alice in Wonderland said, I thought to myself “Curiouser and Curiouser!”. The obvious arousal that Clarence was getting from my high heels was infectious, and I found myself getting drawn into sharing and enjoying the sense of excitement. I was tingling!

Seeing Clarence run his professional catering officer’s eye down the menu, I said I would let him choose. We had quails’ eggs, partridge and a glorious lemon meringue followed by coffee and an unsurpassable brandy, which the ever attentive wine waiter kept on topping-up unasked! Under the table I was slipping my feet in and out of those incredible shoes to remind myself of their feel and effect, and I have never forgotten that dream of a meal.

“I say Lucy” said Clarence, holding my hand as I CLACK-CLACK-CLACKED out of Claridges’, “I’ve only got just over an hour before I must leave for Southampton to rejoin the ‘Lizzie’ (as he called the Queen Elizabeth), but can we pay a quick visit back to my cottage first so that I can show you something?”. “Why not?” I gaily replied, so within minutes we were back in Clarence’s sitting-room. "Have you filled-in the holes my heels made in your kitchen floor?" I asked. "No" he replied, "Those holes have become my most treasured possession - I've preserved and protected them by putting a rubber mat over the top". At that he disappeared up to his bedroom and reappeared holding three or four American magazines. “Look at these amazing pictures” he said, “I bought them last week from a news-stand on Broadway, just off Times Square”. The magazines were all called “HIGH HEELS”. I gasped in amazement at the cover of the first one – a full-length photo of a statuesque black-haired goddess with a fringe standing in the most unbelievably high heels I’d ever seen! They weren’t as thin as my stilettos, but they were so much higher! “That’s Betty Page” said Clarence, but at that point the name meant nothing to me. Inside the magazines were page after page of photographs, letters and articles, all dealing with ultra high heels. I had never imagined heels or magazines like this even existed.

“Now that you seem to accept my kinky high heel interest” said Clarence, “And now that I’m off to New York again, would you like me to try and find you a pair of heels as high as Betty’s?”. Oh gosh - what could I answer? “Well” I said, “This is awfully kind, but remember Clarence that I could hardly walk in my highest 5 ½” heels on my green boots without leaning them inwards a bit, and Betty’s heels look quite a bit higher than that – over 6” and maybe even 7””. “Ah” retorted Clarence “But Betty’s heels are a bit broader at the base to stop you wobbling sideways, and if you practice a lot indoors in them – I can help your train – then you’ll be all the more adept in your 5 ½” outdoor boots afterwards”. “But ….” I began protesting, only to be interrupted by Clarence saying “Sorry Lucy – quick kiss! Must dash now to catch my ship. Leave the shoes to me – I’ll see what I can find. Love you!, Bye!”.

Love, Lucy

JeffM

Lucy's Story (41)
Posted by Lucy on April 11, 2004, 16:16:13

Hi Everybody! I must acknowledge Laser, Paul, Stu and Raincat for their super responses to my Instalment No. 40. Whilst I still have some time at home during the remainder of my Easter 2004 break, let's get straight on with my Instalment No, 41:

For the next few days I was unliveable with. Clarence had sailed for New York on his regular Atlantic crossing as a catering officer, and I wouldn’t see him for another two eternal weeks! Now that we had both admitted that we loved each other, I was beginning to wonder how on earth I was going to be able to endure these fortnightly absences of Clarence’s! Velma and Madeline had given up trying to buck me up, and were now avoiding me (“Thundercloud”). Then I tried to cheer myself up by wearing a different pair of all my highest heels to work each day. That certainly helped, and this exercise includes wearing my favourite Regent Shoes 5” black patent stiletto courts to business (similar to the yellow version recently discovered and posted by Fred, and usually kept for “best”). Also I wanted to get fully into practice with my highest pairs in readiness for the incredible “Betty Page” style shoes that Clarence had promised to bring back from the States for me.

Whist at work that day I was a bit naughty, but it cheered me up enormously. Mr. Graham had asked me to visit one of our brand new estate agent branches in the Kingston area of South-West London. As I entered the front door of their showroom, the staff were all gazing at me from their desks, eager to see to the girl from central management. Just then my 5” stiletto heel sank into the bristles of the thick new doormat, throwing my ankle sideways and me off balance. Stanley, the new young manager froze completely and stood their transfixed, with his eyes staring downwards at my shining, teetering shoes. My skyscraper heels had got him all of a fluster and he could hardly blurt and stutter a greeting to me as he invited me into his side office. Ushering me in first, he walked behind me, so I mischievously treated him to my very best hugely exaggerated catwalk flipping at the end of each stride. We sat down either side of his desk, and already his face was blushing like an over-ripe tomato.

We spent the next hour reviewing and analysing his branch’s first month in business, but the poor man kept struggling to bring his mind back on the job! After twenty minutes, Stanley went through the charade of letting an open box of paper clips fall off my side of the desk and scatter at my feet. I bent down, but he rushed round the desk, flung himself on his hands and knees and insisted on picking up the interminable number of paper clips one by one, strewn on all sides of my high heels! Now, at Business Academy, Miss Edwards has trained us girls strictly never to dangle or shoe-play during our business day, but this contrived situation was too good to miss and I’m afraid I weakened disgracefully! As Stanley groped to right and left for each paper clip, I was conscious that his face was only inches from my feet; his eyes riveted to my 5” Regent Shoes Specials. As he gazed at them, I eased my feet half-out of each shoe, crossed my legs and dangled the upper shoe on the very end of my big toe. “Are you sure I can’t help you” I asked innocently. “N-N-N-No, everything’s fine!” he stammered, trying to create the record for the longest time ever taken to pick up a handful of paper clips.

Just then I let the shoe fall off and land right in the middle of the remaining paper clips. Stanley jumped out of his skin and I’ve never seen anyone look as flustered as he did at that moment! “Oh dear” I said “My shoe seems to have fallen off! As you are already down there, would you be so kind as to pick it up for me?” Stanley was lost for words, but he managed to reach out and grasp the shoe with hands shaking like a leaf, and nervously slid it back on my foot whilst holding one hand round my ankle and the other round the 5” heel as he did it. “I’d …… I’d ……. I’d ……..I’d ………better make us some coffee” he blurted and shot out of the office like a bullet. He was gone for simply ages. Eventually he returned with our coffees, but surprisingly looking just as red-faced and agitated as he had done when he had first left the office. In fact, he was positively dishevelled!

I’ve never found it more difficult to keep a straight face. I sat and solemnly told him that despite the poorness of his branch’s first monthly figures, the first quarter was always the hardest, and I was confident that he would settle down and make a good manager. As I left, turned the corner and crossed the street to the bus stop, I glanced back and glimpsed his agitated face pressed against the window following every catwalk flip of my 5” heels. As I stood there waiting for the approaching bus, I gave him a final thorough side-to-side stationary wobble of both heels in true Jenny-like fashion for good measure. He was last seen mopping his brow with a big white handkerchief. “He’s sure got it bad” I smiled to myself as I re-lived the morning’s events in my mind as the bus sped me back to central office. Life was worth living again!

Another thing cheered me up further the following day, on the way home from work. Just as my grey pair of Alps 4 ¾” stilettos had got me to the top of Pepys Road, I met Mrs. Parsons putting out her empty milk bottles. Mrs. Parsons was a slightly drab and weary-looking widow in her fifties and our neighbour who lived two doors down the hill from us. “Do you mind if I say something?” She said. “Ever since you moved in last year, I’ve admired you three girls. All three of you always look so smart, and happy and colourful. You all wear such lovely clothes, and in particular I always see each of you wearing those lovely modern high heels. It puts us older women like me to shame! Every time each of you goes by I always feel very envious and I’m so sad that life has passed me by.”

“Oh, good gracious” I said, “I’d no idea that you felt like that, or that you’d even noticed what we were wearing”. She looked so moved and miserable that I thought she was going to cry. “Look, I’ll tell you what! Come up to our place and meet Velma and Madeline, and have a nice cup of tea and we’ll have a nice chat to you – a good old gossip - how’s that?”. “Oh that’s so kind – I get so lonely since my Arnold died” she said. Velma and Madeline beamed a welcome at Mrs. Parsons and sat her by our roaring coal fire with some hot tea in our one and only bone china cup and saucer. Soon she was elaborating on what she had already told me. “You see girls, in my day clothes weren’t nearly as nice or colourful as they are now. And when I was courting my Arnold, the shoes had low, thick heels. Since he died, the only things I’ve got to look at home are my drab clothes and row of ugly shoes. I’d give my right arm to be young again and to enjoy wearing the bright, cheery clothes and those lovely dainty feminine heels that you three wear all the time. But of course, it’s far too late for me at my age!

“Nonsense” we all chorused, “It’s never too late”. Velma was wonderful with her. “Look” she said, “Whenever Lucy’s mother comes up from Surrey to visit her, she’s always in smart, modern clothes and lovely high stiletto heels, and she must be about the same age as you.”
Madeline and I sat there and nodded vigorously. “And” continued Velma “Miss Sheridan, the principal of our business academy is also a similar age, and she suddenly started wearing stiletto heels when she saw us students wearing them to class. You are as old as you feel, and a modern outfit will make you feel so much more youthful!” “Do you really think so girls?” “Absolutely!” we chorused, “On Saturday, we’ll all take you up to Town for a nice lunch followed by shopping for nice clothes and OUR type of shoes! No arguments, no protests – that’s settled!”


Love, Lucy

Lucy

Hi all! Once more I’m overwhelmed by the response you my latest instalments! So many of you, and such kind messages! My warmest thanks to RPM, Carl J, Sinkem, Stu, Paul, Heelfan, Rob, Micael, Tom-NL and Laser.
And my very special thanks to “Guest” and Jeff M for copying-across Instalments 39, 40 & 41 to MegaForum’s “Stories on a Heely Theme” where we now have my continuous Story from Instalment 1 to Instalment 41 (and growing!). Spikesfan has kindly done this copying-across in the past, but he seems to have disappeared just lately. Spikesfan, I hope you’re OK! Well, on with Chapter 42:

The next morning, when I turned up for work, Ricky Everson said “Mr. Graham wants to see you in his office – something to do with your visit to Stanley at his Kingston Branch”. “Oh dear!”, I thought to myself as I knocked on the managing director’s door “I must be in real trouble. Stanley must be complaining about the inappropriateness of my ultra high heels and all that shoe-play….Oh cripes!”.

“Come in Lucy!” beamed Mr. Graham “Well done in Kingston! Stanley has rung to say how much he appreciated your visit, and now asks if you could go down there again soon, in fact as soon as possible. He wants some advice regarding separating-out the freehold and leasehold transaction sides.” That was a relief, but how should I handle it? Was this an just an excuse of Stanley’s to gaze at my 5” Regent stilettos throughout another visit? Before I could think what to say or whether to wear frumpy flatties or something tantalisingly seductive, Mr Graham continued “But we don’t want to waste your valuable talents on such a routine matter, do we Lucy? Leave it to me. I’ll send young Snodgrass!” Snodgrass was in junior management, an earnest, insignificant little chap. I had to suppress a laugh at the thought of Stanley’s face when having looked forward to the lady in skyscraper heels, instead he would have to look at young Snodgrass! I resisted the temptation to tell Snodgrass to be sure not to teeter over there in anything less than 5” and to dangle like mad!

When the weekend came, Velma, Madeline and I had promised Mrs. Parson that we take her up to central London for some nice modern clothes and high-heeled shoes. She try to look smart for the trip, but her best dress and coat were very plain in navy blue and her best shoes were stodgy tan brown lace-ups with thick 2 ½” heels. However, ever since our chat, she said she had been getting more and more enthusiastic about “Getting with it”. Madeline asked her “But didn’t your husband used to like you to get nice outfits and shoes for your nights out?”. “Not my Arnold” said Mrs. Parsons, “Mondays to Fridays he was working at the foundry, Saturdays he was out supporting Millwall (UK soccer football club) and Sundays was mowing the lawn and reading the paper. Now I’m single again I suppose I’d better start getting out in the evenings and making up for lost opportunities”.

We took the tube train to Oxford Circus and whizzed Mrs. Parsons into some of our favourite clothes shops. With much encouragement, egging-on and gentle persuasion, within two or three hours we had achieved miracles. She emerged from the various changing rooms looking twenty years younger! Gone were her dowdy ‘World War II’ clothes and drab colours, and in front of us was a smart lady dressed in bright colours, much shorter more modern skirts, strikingly modern waist-belts and cheery neck-scarves etc. A whole new image now only spoiled by the hair and the ghastly “wren-officer’s” shoes.

“Now it’s off to see Mick!” commanded Velma, and we trooped further down Oxford Street to the large shoe shop where Velma’s boyfriend worked. Mick, ever the expert shoe salesman, noted that here was a a lady wanting trendy shoes, but slightly plump and in her fifties. “The current fashion is towards these dinky little kitten heels madam – very Audrey Hepburn!”. “Oh no!” said Mrs. Parsons “I’ve completely missed out on the higher stiletto heels that have been around for the last few years and I’d now like some whilst I’ve still got the chance. I don’t think I could manage the stratospheric heights that these three splendid young ladies are wearing, but I’d like to attempt something as adventurous as I can cope with”. “Okee-Dokee” said Mick, and soon came back with a super range of stiletto courts in medium heights and various colours. Mrs. Parsons slipped her feet out of her lace-ups and into a pair of stiletto heels for the first time in her life. They were 3 ½” high. “Oh, they feel so lightweight after my shoes” she marvelled “But I’ve been worrying that the thin heels might twist my ankles. I have to walk very carefully in them, don’t I?”. We told her that she should get more and more used to them with practice. She said it felt most odd walking with her feet sloping-down so much and I feared that she was having second thoughts. But just then she caught sight of herself in the shop’s big full length mirror. She saw the effect of the bright, crisp clothes and the stiletto heels together. “Goodness gracious!” she said “Is that really me? – I’d never have believed it!”. She was right! – We were all witnessing a new person – a total transformation! She looked twenty years younger and infinitely more attractive. “Let’s try 4 inches as well, please!".

Spurred on by this, Mrs. Parsons couldn’t stop and bought up half the shop! She ended up a big carrier-bag containing four pairs: a pair of 3” hour-glass stilettos (“For shopping in”), two pairs of 4” stilettos that her ankles could only just accommodate to, and the biggest surprise – as an afterthought she had fallen for the highest pair in the shop – a pair of 4 ½” slingbacks! “I’ll never be able to go far in these” she said, “but I suddenly realise all the lovely things I’ve been missing in life”.

The story had a very happy ending. For the next few week we got more and more used to seeing the “new” Mrs. Parsons getting out and about in her trendy outfits and stiletto heels. She had dieted, lost weight a regain a very trim figure. Somehow it wasn’t just her appearance that brightened up, it was her entire personality. She went blonde and adopted a lovely hairstyle. She became imbued with a new confidence and a zest for life. With determination, she even managed to do better than we expected on her highest 4 ½” stilettos and went back on her own sometime later for a pair a black patent courts of the same height! Several times she popped in to thank the three of us, and shyly said that suddenly a number of the local gentlemen had started taking an interest in her! Then before long, low and behold, she introduced us to Ron, the local decorator and handyman. They had become engaged to be married! Ron said Mrs. Parsons “Looked a proper picture!”. Four months later they were married, and we enjoyed seeing Ron proudly taking his new wife out at least two or three nights a week. They had all the glow of young teenagers in love for the first time. And her shoe collection grew too! The neighbourhood was treated to a lovely, colourful and ever-changing collection of 4 ½” stiletto heels, no doubt funded by the adoring Ron!

Love, Lucy

__________________
Life is not a rehearsal. Why not use it to present ourselves as smartly and attractively as possible?

Lucy

LUCY'S STORY - Chapter 43

Hi one and all! Thank you to Stu, RPM, Paul, Heelfan and Erica for your messages following my publishing Chapter 42. Here’s Chapter 43:

The next few days seemed never-ending as I waited for the weekend and my darling Clarence to arrive back from his regular sailings to New York. At last the “Queen Elizabeth” docked in Southampton and Clarence telephoned me from the ship. At once I detected a note of disappointment in his voice “Lucy, I’m so sorry! When I promised to treat you to a pair of those stunning, ultra-high ‘Betty Page’ shoes, I naively thought I could just go into that same high heel specialist shop in New York and buy a pair.” But apparently nowadays they normally only make the modern thin stiletto heels, and apparently those Betty page photographs were taken before the mid-fifties in the days when somewhat thicker heels were still in fashion. They have had to send away specially for those heels, but the completed shoes should be ready for me to collect next time I’m in New York. I’m so sorry, I’ll have to keep you waiting for the shoes, but instead, can I treat you to Saturday luncheon at Maxines?” “Ooooh lovely – very romantic!” I said. Maxines De Champs Elysee was the London branch of the famous Maxines restaurant of Paris, in the Edgware Road within a few minutes walk of Clarence’s home, but sadly it was closed and demolished some years ago.

That afternoon Madeline planned to get a replacement pair of 5 ½” courts from Regent Shoes. She had been wearing his first purple pair almost continuously for several months now, and they were barely holding out. She had asked whether I would like to go too, so I suggested that after our lunch, Clarence and I could walk along Oxford Street and Regent Street (looking at all the shoe displays as we passed) and meet Madeline in Regent Shoes. After Maxines most enjoyable French Cuisine, we walked past Marble Arch (with me again in my impossibly thin “Pin and Needle” heels) and at the first ladies’ shoe shop, Clarence began enthusing and pointing-out various high stiletto heeled shoes to me. I short-sightedly peered t