Windows: Sister! Your wanted on the ward.

n the early 70s when I was working in a hospital lab in London I had a girlfriend who was a sister in one of the large hospitals in the city. After work I wanted to pick her up from the hospital to go to a prom.

Now in those days patient visiting hours was very strict and restricted to a few hours a day. Any public found wandering about 'after or before hours' was confronted and escorted to the nearest exit. To get round this I took my white lab coat in a plastic bag entered the hospital slipped into the toilets put it on and could then go anywhere I pleased within reason, without the beady eyes of security seeing something amiss.
This worked quite well, I made my way to the nurse's quarters without hindrance, knocked on her door and entered. She was still in uniform which surprised me. It turned out she had to do a further two hours as a colleague was sick. I decided to stay and wait for her. We would still make the second half of the concert in time. A quick peck on the cheek and she was off.
So I waited, there was plenty to read lying about, mostly girl magazines which where nothing new to me, so I browsed. Finally I got bored and so started to look around. I noticed she had a spare uniform hanging in the wardrobe. I got very interested as I brought it out and held it against me and looked in the mirror.
The only dressing I had done was at home and that was some time ago as none of my mothers clothes fitted me anymore. (see If the dress fits..).

This was an opportunity I just couldn’t pass up! Fortunately she had the room to herself so I knew I would not be interrupted for a good hour. I locked the door and went looking for a pair of the standard black tights. Going through the draws I found plenty of other things that caught my attention but I had a mission! Eventually I found a pair. And why did I even contemplate trying the uniform on? Well there was a good chance it would fit as we were both roughly the same size, apart from her bust which I could not in any way compete with.

I took a glance at the clock and took the plunge. I removed my outer garments got carefully into the tights and donned the uniform. The uniform even had its own upside down watch pinned to it.

I had 70s hair which was down to my shoulders to the distain of my father (not that it bothered me), and so to get the right effect I pinned it up the best I could and then added the cap. I admired myself in the mirror and imagined going on duty to the wards, taking pulses using the pinned watch and sticking thermometers in openings of my choice. After a few walk-a-rounds looking at myself from different angles, I took another look at the clock and quickly turned back into civil, carefully storing everything away again.

I must say girls don’t have it easy getting ready in uniform especially with long hair. I was tempted to use some of her lipstick but I may have made a mess and couldn’t risk it. Not long afterwards she returned got changed and we were off.

I didn’t get any indication that she had cottoned on.
Unfortunately the opportunity didn’t arise again. 
That was a really wow experience and I still think of it 40 plus years on!


To the pictures:
The one on the left is a ward sister (in blue) and a student nurse in the 1970s. The other picture on the right is of nurses from the hospital in the 1980s with the appropriate tights.
Please note: None of the girls in the pictures are either my girlfriend or myself..
(sigh..)

Windows: Pink Prom Dress - I - Selecting & Ordering

ix months down the road I’m still somewhat in shock and astound that I even contemplated buying let alone ordering the title of this post.
[Ed: I’m even more astounded that you are writing a post on it!]
True, in a previous post I went on about my online buying experience and that it all came to an end with leaving work (see ObserVation: A day 'in' shopping). Last summer I thought that I would carry on working not as intensive as before but at least a few days in the week and for quite some time.
With this in mind I thought it would be business as usual. I hadn’t really thought about having to stop shopping as I would be in the office at least once a week, and if for nothing else to pick up my parcels and smuggle them home.
As October was coming to a close I realised that at the end of the year I would be going into full retirement. This meant that after three years of on-line shopping, feeding my wardrobe and makeup case, it would all soon come to an end.

I started to panic, realising what that meant. In the New Year I could still browse but not hit the buy button! Good for the wallet but not for that tingling feeling when ordering a dress, patterned stockings, a new lipstick and my main vice heels. If they ever discover the HHG, [Ed: High Heel Gene] then I know if screened, I would turn up ++++ positive.
Well when the first panic wave subsided I checked the clock to see how much time I had left taking into consideration the rest of my annual leave and when my last order would arrive before my last official day. Working on passed delivery metrics it was going to be about the beginning of December.
So with this in mind I went into second gear and used this as an ‘excuse’ to really go on a last shopping spree.
[Ed: As if you needed an excuse!].
Hey! Don’t put a girl down for going mad when she’s in a metaphoric candy store just before closing and with no foreseeable chance to ever come back again. One stuffs every available pocket with everything in grabbing distance!
[Ed: You mean like in Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts goes shopping with the credit card from Robert Gere].
Not quite, it’s my credit card and I virtually walk the high street and not toddling on heels in that lovely outfit on real pavements.
Maybe the prom dress was just a part of this panic stricken ‘sweet’ madness.

In the past when browsing on-line it was ‘Oh! That is nice, it should fit but I don’t know .. the price..’ and I would usually move on. If I went to the next level with ‘Oh! Now that’s really is nice!’ it would go into the shopping cart. At the end of such a session I would look at the contents of the cart and usually gasp at the totted up price. In the back of my mind came ‘and were in hell are you going to store it all!’
[Ed: Come on! Stashing logistics had never stopped you in the past, it was the price!].
Yes, I suppose it was. What's a few more cubic meters of stash anyway..

After recovering I would then prune the shopping cart contents back to the ‘really really nice’ items and check the total again. Sometimes I even left everything in the cart ‘to mature’ for a while and try to get my head around the idea of having it..
[Ed: ya, all of 10 seconds]
Stop that!!
When I do came back, however quick, and it is still in the ‘really really nice’ category and [Ed:] was not around then I would order..
[Ed: Gawd, now I’m the excuse!]

With this last so called shopping spree I didn't start out with going mad buying everything in sight. I just became a little less critical when pruning back. I threw away my ‘no way!’ flag and let my ‘now or never’ flag pop up instead.

I also looked more at dresses than heels thinking I had enough of them (heels that is) which is of course not possible but I wanted to stock up on dresses especially to match the heels I had.
[Ed: what you find as excuses to buy things!]
But it’s true; I have a lovely pair of yellow heels (just look at that heel!), only I never found a dress to go with them! Now the chance is gone, even if I do find one on-line..

And then one day, while surfing Amazon UK..
[Ed: hey! that rhymes!].
??!!
If you haven’t anything better to do than butting in all the time, go and put the kettle on..
Where was I? Oh yes surfing. Well I came across a prom dress in blue with a very reasonable price, actually it was advertised as an evening gown, but to me it was what I would expect to wear at a prom..
[Ed: How would you know, you’re never been anywhere near one!].
.. ‘ang on a tick dear reader, I’ll close the kitchen door...
[Ed: Hey! …]

When seeing something like this I would normally sigh and carry on browsing. This was because if I did look more closely it would usually mean leaving in frustration either because the sizes available were much too small (sometimes the Amazon filters are totally useless!), or because of review complaints concerning sizes of Far Eastern sellers (see ObserVation: A day 'in' shopping).
Well as I was in a what-the-heck-lets-take-a-peek-anyway mood and this dress fell in the ‘really really nice’ category, I took one look at my ‘now or never’ flag and clicked on the article for a closer look. There were various colours to choose from with slightly different designs.

I was adventurous and selected the pink version and went ‘wow’.
I saw that the size range covered mine which was unusual and therefore there came a second ‘wow’.
Also the source was the UK, which meant the given sizes could well be correct and so a third ‘wow’ leaked out.
I read the reviews and all the girls (and some of their mothers) were happy with the buy so I added a further ‘wow’ to the collection.

Now all this ‘wowing’ was getting me interested.

I'm not sure what went through me head, but as I looked at the girl in the picture I said to myself ‘I want to wear what's she’s wearing’ followed by ‘and if so, why not in that pink..’
I was slightly taken back after hearing myself say that. I followed it with a ‘hey what’s going on here!’ Usually [Ed:] would comeback with a retort but he was busy in the kitchen. So I had to fend for myself at that moment.
Wow, did I needed that cup of tea..

Often enough in the past either on-line, the telly, or in the numerous piles of magazines of the misses, I’ve looked at a dress or outfit and said to myself ‘now I wouldn’t mind wearing that’ knowing full well I couldn’t and wouldn’t. A few seconds of day dreaming followed by [Ed:] mentally poking me in the ribs and reluctantly shifting me back to reality mode is fully ok.
But here I was still starring at the picture for what seemed like ages, well at least the five minutes waiting for the tea to brew. At the same time what started off in the back of my mind as the usual ‘now I wouldn’t mind..’ worked its way forward and warped into a ‘and why shouldn’t I not wear this..’.
I was even more taken back when it dawned on me that I was seriously contemplating buying a classical A-line princess dress with a corset bodice covered in twinkly bits in addition to sequins, chiffon, even a bow, and to top it
ALL IN PINK!

I then heard from somewhere in me head, ’Why do you want this? It's not as if you will ever be going to a prom’.
[Ed: Not only that girl, you won't be going anywhere in any of your wardrobe!].
True, I won’t be and certainly not a prom! But that ‘not going anywhere’ hasn’t stopped me buying in the past and it certainly wasn’t going to stop me with this creation, I was well and truly bitten by a pink prom dress bug!
[Ed: You should see someone about that and I’m not talking about a dermatologist either.
Here’s your cuppa.]
Thanks. And anyway I don’t need to see anyone while you’re around, or was it because of you I needed to see someone...
[Ed: No answer to that. Even if there was it would get very complicated.]

Ok, so I was committed.
[Ed: In more ways than one by the look of it.]
Now there was the problem of picking the ‘right’ size. This wasn't going to be easy. With, let’s say 'normal' dresses and outfits I only had to make sure the label size was correct and cross my fingers by any new brand I hadn’t tried before. The skirt length is not so critical unless you are going for a particular look. One can get an idea from the ad pictures if it’s over or under knee, mini etc. If the hem is at heel level, then one looks for the skirt length in the various sizes.
I was somewhat hesitant when choosing the size for this one, especially the skirt length, as this could make it a go or no go purchase. It's not as if I haven't any long dresses, well up to that point three to be exact, in black, burgundy and my favourite colour mint.
 
Some months before in one of those match the dress to the heel buys, I had ordered a mint green evening dress without taking the length into account. Just never thought about it, hence didn't look (see ad picture, note the helm at floor level). It was ok in the bust and waist department but about 4 inches/10 cm too long even when wearing my 5 inch mint heels (see picture below of my heels without the dress).
 
I have contemplated shortening it myself. The hem looks straight forward enough nothing fancy and just one layer of material. As I have no real practical experience in dress making or alterations for that matter, I would first have to practice on some similar material.

Me Mum made all her dresses and outfits, she was quite good at it, saved me Dad a packet over the years. She had a professional dummy that she could adjust to her measurements. She could read dress patterns like I circuit diagrams. In hindsight I should have taken a little more interest in what she was doing, but at the time I would never have imagined that so many years later I would be contemplating doing alterations to one of my own dresses!
Thinking about it, I wonder what would have happened if she had asked me to model for her (we were about the same build and height) or I had offered to help her with fittings. Maybe things would have turned out differently while growing up.
We inherited her sowing machine, a Singer. MrsA wanted it to raise hems and shorten sleeves. Until now she, and eventually me, can’t use it as it needs a general overhaul. I need to find time for this and then to practice doing hems in an Abi session.
I could of course go to the local seamstress to have it done. I can just imagine walking in with my heels tucked under me arm and a transparent dress bag with the mint dress shining through and asking where I can get changed!
Rather ruin it all by myself..

[Ed: If you please, can we focus again on the colour Pink and not Mint.]
Yes yes of course! Mind wanders..

So here was the first hurdle, the size table from the web site was not complete. It only went up to UK18 with all the measurements in inches for waist, bust, hip and height. The skirt length listed was the same for all sizes, I had no choice but to assume that it would be the same for the sizes not listed. It did occur to me that the size table could have been the wrong chart because it didn’t cover all sizes on offer, but I pushed this aside, just too many ‘ifs’ and I realised it wasn’t going to put me off ordering anyway. I took the length of the skirt and calculated that the hem should just touch the floor when wearing my open toe pink heels.

[Ed: Ah! Now I know why the pink dress, it’s to match the shoes!]
You catch on quick don’t you..
So that was the skirt, next the overall size. I could see that the top was corset like and that there would be lacing up the back. The lacing is to contour the dress to the female form and not to squeeze ones body into one. Therefore the dress material, loops and ribbon would probably not stand up to corset like terra forming. This would mean having to go and dig out one of my corsets to have any chance of getting something even approaching an hourglass figure before lacing up the dress.
I had now to workout the metrics for my usual UK26/28 size, based on the information in the chart. As the progression was linear for each parameter it wasn’t that difficult. Still I went through it a number of times before getting out the tape measure. Which promptly sent me back to the drawing board to convert as the tape was in cm not inches! I should have taken my measurements while wearing the corset, but I didn’t have the chance..
[Ed: You just didn’t want to wait till your next session to put it on that’s all!]
How do you know all this!?
And where’s the bickies?
You can’t ’ave a proper cuppa tea without bickies!

Well I went for the UK28, the larger of the two sizes in the chart. There was a sort of rational behind selecting this size. Most of the dresses I have labelled 26/28 fit reasonably well. The corset from previous wear took me in somewhat, not that much as I didn’t have anyone with their knee in my back shouting at me to breathe in one last time.

[Ed: You still haven’t secured those hooks to the cellar wall.]
No I haven’t because I need to find a place which I can get to and pull away from, also it must be hide-able so that I don’t get asked silly questions from you know who!
Also without that knee in my back, I wasn’t quite sure if the corset wouldn’t take up more space than save, it was no way thin. As the waist difference was only 2 inches between a 26 and 28 I hoped that I could, if necessary, reduce any slack of the dress by adjusting the lacing at the back. And finally as I have a panic of buying dresses too small and having in the past a few buys to support this, I thought a bit bigger as the best bet.
So I selected UK28 from the menu and calmly as I could clicked the order button. As the Amazon bot took my order and processed it realised the address was not in the UK and promptly raised the P&P to half the cost of the dress. I was not that surprised, and at that moment I really couldn’t have cared less. I was more occupied with repeating a mantra ‘..you have just ordered a prom dress..’ throwing in the word ‘pink’ every now and then.
 
I couldn't really believe what I had done. I sat there with different emotions flooding me: foolishness, embarrassment, amazement, anticipation. All this with a continuous bubbling going on in the background, I think it was giggling.

As we are going to have to wait for the dress to arrive
I think this would be a convenient time to take a break. Bear with me please..
Part two and three will follow shortly. I hope it will be only three parts.
[Ed: I will see to it that there are only three parts!]
Now there was something else...
Oh yes!
Where’s my bickies???

ObserVation: A day ‘in’ shopping

little recap, I buy all my girl clothes exclusively by the global store called On-Line Inc. That is except for rare occasions in the pre–on-line era where I would pluck up my courage and buy stockings / pantyhose and sometimes lipsticks in stores a long way from home.

On-Line buying started early ‘14 as I got to grips with social networking and creating avatar-ic like e-mail accounts. I soon realised I could send all my purchases to work, drive home with them in the boot of the car, and when the coast was clear smuggle them into the house and down into the cellar.
Well until the end of last year that is, but more on that later.

When I started buying On-Line ..

[Ed: Please note dear reader that when she talks about ‘On-Line’ this is only to do with shopping exclusively for ‘her’ and not ‘him’. He goes way back and was quite active, that is until madam licked blood and changed his passwords.]

.. Amazon was the only site I had an account for. In the early days I was rather reluctant to flash my credit card and details about with other stores. I use to browse the on-line shopping stores quite regularly, mostly at work and of course only in my ‘spare time’. Later I branched out and added some high street stores which had larger collections in my size with reasonable prices.

You can pay the earth for some very lovely dresses but I would only be wearing them in the confinements of the house, so I held back. With shoes I’m glad I have a size that limits me in buying lots of them. For quick browsing on my dedicated ‘Abi-iPad’ I have search profiles bookmarked for various stores like Newlook (mainly for shoes) and Zalando, ASOS, Navabi for clothes.
 
 With Amazon I try and restrict myself to prime. That is selling and post & packaging and not just where Amazon carries out p&p logistics. With prime any mishaps that occurred I got all my money back. You pay a little extra up front on the article but it's worth it in the long run and up a relative low limit the p&p is free...

[Ed: Free? There is no such thing as ‘free’. How often do you browse like mad looking for articles to top up the shopping basket to save on p&p and end up way over the limit?]

Ok, yes I do ‘top up’ as you say, usually with something from the makeup counter, a lipstick then a polish to match and then look for earrings that match then .. ok, point taken .. 
As said I stick to Amazon Prime as far as possible and try to steer clear from Amazon’s market place due a number of ‘problems’ in the past. If I do find something that looks like a bargain, then there are a few things I look at and out for before hitting the buy button. 
Such as:
The amount of p&p.
You're probably not going to get back the p&p if the article has to go back for whatever reason. From my experience you’re going to get lumbered with the return costs as well.

For example, I bought a pair of Andres Machado heels via Amazon. The shoe price was reasonable and also the p&p. It looked like they would come direct from an outlet of the manufacturer so I saw no problem with ordering. I have a few pairs from them that fit well and are quite walkable. This pair was in my size and the style more sandal like than the others and as I hadn’t any sandals at that time I went for it.

Well, I couldn’t get them on let alone stand and walk in them! The model was either labelled wrong or someone had a bad day when designing them.
I decided to send them back. On printing the return label I saw that the return address was the HQ of the manufacturer in Spain! I got my money back for the shoes but not the p&p when buying and the return p&p costs. The result, the total p&p was almost the price of the shoes! I had in effect paid for them in shipment costs but didn’t have them to even look at let alone wear!

Seller location and their review profile history.

The location of the seller can be decisive (as in the return above!). Always check where they are. Sometimes you need to put the article in your basket before the correct link of the seller appears. China usually means long waiting times (if not forever). A problem in general with far eastern manufactures, when looking at the reviewer’s complaints, is the size discrepancies. Here you can forget the so called international standard conversion charts (you can usually forget them anyway!). The label sizes they give are often at least two sizes too small for westerner wearers. That’s ok for people in mid-range sizes who read the reviews, they know they can compensate for this when buying, but for a big girl like me that means I end up way off the scale and a frustrating no go! 

Having said that I did once order a Chinese product. This was a waist clincher. I decided to apply Abi logic to this: If the Chinese sizes are always too small and the clinchers job is to squeeze and give the appearance of a smaller size then there is a good chance it should fit and I can still breathe! And as it was only £6 I ordered it. 

Well eventually it did arrive and going by the state the package it looked like it had been half way around the world.
Which on reflection it had..

I totally forgot I had ordered it until I received an email in Chinese via Amazon. I could see from the layout it was flight information as there were times in 24 hour format and international 3 letter airport codes for Frankfurt and Beijing sprinkled in between the pictograms. As my Cantonese was nowhere in sight I threw it at the Google translator. It was only informing me about the future arrival of the clincher in Germany and not as I suspected that I had to go to Frankfurt to pick it up. After sitting around in customs gathering dust for 3 weeks someone eventually decided to clear their desk and it ended up on my desk a week later. The package was a mess, dirty with grime and a sprinkling of Frankfurter customs dust...

[Ed: How can you be certain about the dust coming from Frankfurt? Did you have the package analysed?]

No my dear Watson I did not. The grime was all over the package, even my address, but not over the customs label and stamp. Therefore the grime was before Frankfurt. The dust covered the complete package stuck mostly to the grime but still present on the customs label.
Therefore the dust was of German origin not Chinese. The journey times I took from the partly readable smears on the tattered sad looking object.
Ok?

[Ed: Yes, I suppose, totally unnecessary that last analytical bit but it’s not my blog. By the way I should remind you that you wanted to report on buying a pink prom dress, but you’ve gone off, as is your wont, at a tangent before getting round to it.]

Yes your right, almost forgot about why I started this post. Maybe more about this next time. What thinks you?

[Ed: Me thinks as I said, it’s your blog. I don’t think you needed to plug the ‘Pee Pee Dee’ here so that someone will read the next post. Anyway the title will have the words ‘Pink’, ‘Prom’ and ‘Dress’ in it and that should be enough to get people interested.] 
 
Yes, and some candid snap shots as well…

[Ed: Pictures! Now as your editor I’m not sure …]

Let’s get on please! You can look through the numerous bad quality shots I took, while I will end here with one last antidote and then I’ll dedicate myself to the task of trying to analyse why I bought the ‘PPD’ as you call it, in the first place and the trouble I had. So for now one last story from a online shopping junkie..

Article 'very cheap' plus p&p ‘on the high side’ could = a scam.

Again shoes and Amazon market place with a slightly different outcome. I found a nice pair of heels, this time on Amazon UK. As it was UK I usually check first to see if they are offering them here in Germany which would save exchange rates (£2€) and usually some p&p. Well I couldn’t find them so I went back to the UK site. P&p was a bit high but combined with the low price of the shoes result reasonable. I ordered and they arrived two days later which I thought was pretty quick for the UK.

So far so good.

I opened and checked the invoice, the company name was the same as on the web but the address was from a town only a 30 minute drive from my office! I checked the postage and read off 4.50€ and not the £15 postage I had paid up front! If that was not bad enough the shoes were labelled 2 sizes smaller than I had ordered and were way too small!

I sniffed fowl play!

All manner of scenarios went through my head each one adding to my raised blood pressure. They ranged from; so sorry it was totally unintentional and will be cleared up in no time, that’s your problem matey not mine! Up to organised shoe criminality on an international scale. After I had calmed down a bit I rang the owner directly instead of opening email communication via Amazon. Steering clear of the p&p differences I hit the German seller (in English of course) with the wrong size problem. He was apologetic and asked me to return the shoes and of course I would get my money back. The return costs were nothing like the original p&p.

Again so far so good, I would get something back at least.

Now what? Would this be just the shoe money or everything? At this stage the question was while still on the phone do I mention the p&p? Maybe it would be included but I wasn’t sure. I decided to leave it. If the p&p was not included I would ring again and give him an ear full along the lines of as he had sent the wrong shoes it was his fault not mine and therefore I should get all the p&p back including the return costs.
Well as I suspected only the money for the shoes was returned.
After a couple of calls and some hints to why the size could have been ‘incorrect’, the seller saw the errors of his ways and in the end I got everything back. Maybe finding out I was ‘just round the corner’ may have had something to do with it.
The hint I made with the ‘incorrect’ size was that before calling again I found in the net that this model was not made in the size the seller had advertised!
Now how much was a scam or just incompetence I will not like to say. It’s interesting that the seller was only advertising certain shoes in extra-large sizes in the UK and not here in Germany. Either he thought the Brits all had big feet or speculated that maybe someone in the UK would be reluctant to contact a German based seller about declamations.

[Ed: I hope you’re keeping track of that ‘later’ at the beginning because I’m certainly not!].

Your right, a lot happened in the second half of 2016 that has kept me away from posting. I finally go round to selling the companies and hit retirement at the end of the year. It sounds like the work should have eased off and more free time as the year came to an end, but just the opposite I was working like mad up to midnight on my last day (looking back I’m not sure why, but I was!).
I turned off my computer and listened, nothing, I was all alone. I left the building and locked up as usual as if I would be back the next day. Pretty weird I must say when you come to realise with a mild surprise that a major phase of your life has ended and a less hectic and stressful phase is about to begin. Well now after a month at home I have the feeling I have less time than before!
I think I will need to collect more data to support this or not, will report.

Retirement has had consequences also for my stash. It means I don’t have a ‘post box’ for Abi’s clothes & Co to be sent to any more. My company was not only the arrival area but also the try out and send back area if on the rare occasions the item didn’t fit.

As I mentioned in past posts I could use the long corridor evenings as a catwalk to ‘break in’ my heels while at the same time trying not to break an ankle. Well that’s all over, no more evening wobbly walks.
And no more listening out for approaching staff while trying on dresses and shape wear in a cramped cubicle in the rest room.

[Ed: Are you going to miss it all?]

Yes, I think I really will.

ObserVation: Fashion Sense

usie Jay asked in the post ObserVation: Getting ready to go out about how my wife reacted to the change in my attitude, from in the past showing no interest at all, to now actively helping her choose what to wear while getting ready to go out. 

 [Ed: Half way through writing a reply as a comment, Madam realised that it was going to be a little long and so ended up as a post instead.]

Well in general quite positive.
She is happy that we have now another aspect of bonding in our relationship.
This change in attitude is one of the positive things I attribute to Abigale’s appearance on the scene. Now controlling the overdone external 'negative attitude' as barrier to not having to talk about female related things and possibly give the game away. 

Our ‘getting dressed dialogue’ has now overflowed into when we watch the box together. We have in Germany a TV program called "Shopping Queen", where a top dress designer to a particular theme, gives five woman 500 Euros each and a 3 hour time limit to go shopping and at the end get a makeover. They can take a shopping companion to help out; they are driven around, filmed the whole time and reminded constantly of the time and money left, sometimes they are down to the last second and cent when finished. 
Five shopping sprees over five days, at the end of each day the shopper presents themselves to the rest of the group on the catwalk. Points are given in secret also from the dress designer. The one with the most points at the end of the week gets a money prize. On Sunday afternoon there is a collective repeat of the 5 episodes. 
Sometimes on we sit and watch, but only if no alternative is on. 
There is usually no alternate on.. 
Well actually in the past the wife would watch, while I would have my face buried in a notebook, tablet whatever, lost to the world. She would now and then try and start a dialogue going by asking / remarking about something that was going on. I would look up and say something like ‘sorry darling, what was that?’ She usually would give up in frustration after I repeated my standard answer a few times.

Now - and this in part is Abigale's doing - I do not clam up or show total disinterest concerning what I use to think was a taboo for men. Now I give up my humble opinion when talking about ‘girl stuff’. Of course this ‘joining in’ didn’t just appear overnight. I went softly softly into this. Not really tactical, just subliminal, always trying to keep just under the surprise level of ‘Hey! What’s going on here?’ I see this as one of the ways to let Abigale dimly shine though my boy facade and anyway it’s fun! 
Well, on the TV shopping front it didn’t take that long to get into the swing of things. We both now give up our preferences and discuss what we would prefer the shopper to wear from what she has looked at / tried on and at the end if the makeover would match or not. 
Interestingly enough we usually have the same opinions and tastes. You know the situation, one would say something, the other looks astonished and remarks 
‘I was just about to say that!’ one then laughs/giggles together (yes giggles (not too girly my side)) and so on. We have been together over 40 years, it’s understandable that we rub off on each other, even in silence. 
MrsA is sometimes a little surprised to what detail I would go, when e.g. the eyebrow colour should be black and not brown with that particular eye shadow (I hold back on suggesting which product name and number would look better, that would be a right giveaway if I did!). 
We now have fun making jokes and rolling our eyes at the programs sometimes silly commentary and when some of the women have no idea how to dress themselves even with a friend tagging along. She is not surprised any more that I give up an opinion, has rather got used to it in fact and now asks actively what I think unless I get in first. 
The only thing during the program is I have to be constantly on my guard to think but not say ‘Oh! That’s nice, wouldn’t mind that, maybe in blue’ or at the other extreme 
‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in that!’ 
I almost put my foot in it once, literally. The woman was trying on shoes to go with the dress she have an eye on. MrsA remarked “that’s a nice pair, they would go really well with my new summer dress”. I almost blurted out ‘Yes they would, I have a pair just like that in the cellar, shame they won’t fit you.’ 

[Ed: Madam's misses wears a size 2-3UK. Madam a 9.]

With browsing my wife’s woman’s catalogues, scouring the online shops for clothes and shoes in my size, reading up on all manner of do’s and don’ts and watching umpteen YouTube videos with tips and tricks, I now think - I hope – I have developed a little ‘fashion sense’ in and to female attire and accessories (my boy fashion sense, if it exists, is still on the starting line).

These days I don’t restrict myself to what I like to see on my wife and the women in our circle of friends, but also to give up a spontaneous opinion when looking at someone passing on the street or a remark about someone’s appearance when they appear on the box.

I had to go to the DIY store to buy some stick-on hooks for the bathroom. As I was waiting in line to pay, I saw that the cashier had long blue nails with all manner of art work, each nail slightly different. I was fascinated. After paying and just before leaving, I complimented her on the lovely nails. To begin with, I think she was a little taken back at my remark as it coming from a man. But then came a big smile and a warm ‘thank you!’. I won’t say I made her day, but I could see she was quite chuffed that I had said something.
And.
Some time ago we were watching ‘Let’s Dance’, one of the girls had a gorgeous mint dress on with all the trimmings. My heart beat faster. I said Wow! What a lovely dress and the colour!
The wife agreed and we discussed it in detail and then moved on to the other dress creations swirling around the dance floor.
What I thought at the time was ‘Wow! I really do need this dress to go with my new heels!’ (see picture). 

Not all people have an eye for mode and a lot of it is recycled hype anyway, but most people have some sort of dress sense. I have been told not only from my wife but also friends (girls) that I seem to have more sense / taste when it comes to clothing the female form than to my own male clothing conventions.
I must say I fully agree and it’s a darn sight more fun to!

Windows: If the dress fits ..

s an only child, I was the focus of attention 24/7. That was in some respects good but in others bad. 
Good: I was looked after, fed, clothed, regularly told off, rarely praised (I could be doing my parents an injustice here, can’t really tell, anyway as a kid your biased). 
Bad: I hardly had any real time to myself in the house. There was always someone around mostly of course my mother, but also neighbours dropping in all times of the day for a cuppa tea and a chat. I was always under surveillance, not of your “big brother” Orwellian type; it was just that I was not alone long enough to have the chance to raid my mother’s wardrobe!

Finally the day came when I was old enough to babysit myself. This meant I could stay at home alone, while my parents went Saturday shopping or out in the evenings to friends. They were reluctant to leave me on my own, but I insisted they go. I would argue that I could practice my scales on the piano and they didn’t want to hear that for hours on end did they? 
As soon as they had left I went systematically through everything my mother had. I wouldn’t say my mother had an extensive wardrobe, but large enough to keep me occupied. Did I feel bad for what I was doing? Actually I did. Funny enough not because they were women’s clothes, but because I was trying them without her permission. 
I can’t really remember my feelings at this time, I think it was a mixture of the pleasures of wearing colourful pretty clothes made of nice material and being very nervous of being caught. 

And I almost got caught! 

I was brought up in a small bungalow, no den, no cellar, all on one level and therefore no real place to retreat to apart from my own room and that was not lockable! In trying to minimise getting caught, I had developed what I call “the department store strategy”. 
This was to select some garments, not too many, otherwise I would probably forget where I had removed them from. I would then go quickly to the bathroom, lock myself in and try them on. The advantage of the bathroom was a long mirror so I had the chance to see myself in full frontal, this was much better than just the restricted perspective of looking down at an acute angle to try and see how one looked. 
I would take some time to pose, turn around and note what I liked or disliked on me. I would then undress, try the next garment and eventually return to my parent’s bedroom, hanging the clothes in what I hoped was their original location or neatly folding them and replacing them in their draw. 
If my nerves were still intact, I would then look outside to see if all was clear and then select again for another session. This procedure I repeated regularly whenever my parents were out for a long period of time. 

One day, it must have been in the middle of the first session; I was in the locked bathroom halfway through trying on a dress when I heard the front door open! 
I nearly died. I had this long drawn out sinking feeling with just pure disbelief!
I heard footsteps in the hallway, there was a pause and then my father called me. I answered trying not to choke. He was standing not 3 meters from me, with only the bathroom door between us. He asked me if I was alright, coming out of my reverie I said yes, just doing what one does on the toilet. My panic went up a notch, as he had come back maybe he wanted to use the bathroom and we only had the one! 
Before I could start to think up an excuse for when I came out with an armful of my mother’s clothes, he said he had forgotten his wallet and went to look for it. Remember I was still half way into putting on a dress and I just dared not move a muscle, I just stood there frozen! The top third of the bathroom door had a frosted glass window any hectic movement or noises emulating from the bathroom not usually connected with you know what, may have been suspicious. Not that I though my father would suspect anything, I just did not want to tempt providence. 
After what seemed like ages he came back and asked me again if I was alright. I replied it was taking slightly longer than usual. My father wished me luck and left. I could not believe I had survived this surrealistic ordeal. I gave them a few minutes to drive off, I changed back into boy mode and went tentatively to the front window to see if they were really gone. I was expecting everything by this time. With the car not in the drive, I returned to the bathroom collected the clothes, and hurriedly replaced them in the wardrobe. 
Boy had I had enough for one day, this was utterly unbelievable, I was so relieved to have gotten away with it! After a while and with only a slightly raised pulse, I rechecked the replacement of the clothes just in case I had made a mistake. 

And did this put me off for the future? No of course not, well not immediately that is. I was still growing and the window allowing me to dress “home-based” was rapidly closing. As the clothes of my mother were getting tighter and more difficult to put on I reluctantly stopped. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in a dress being unable to get to the zip at the back or try to wriggle out of one with it busting at the seams. 
I was back to theory instead of practice and resigning myself to looking at clothes in my mother’s magazines. I must admit I was a little relieved that it was over, well for the time being that is. 
What a shame (sigh). 
But all was not lost... 
... I had discovered makeup!

Windows: My first time ...

y first recollections of trying on female attire goes back to the time I was still sleeping in my parent’s bedroom. I must have been 9 or 10 because after that I had my own room. 
In the mornings from my bed in the corner, when the chance arose, I would watch my mother indirectly and off hand as possible as she put on her nylons. I was fascinated in the way she treated them with care, making sure the seams were straight and ultimately the contortion act of fastening them to the back of her girdle. I would get a questionable look if I hadn’t turned completely away at this point. 
Oh, I just had to try them on! I won’t say it was a compulsive fixation, but dam nearly! 
One day when my mother was in the kitchen I sneaked into our bedroom, took from her draw a pair and scrambled under my bed in the corner. It was semi dark and I slid them up my legs, I could hardly see what I was doing and it’s a wonder I didn’t ruin them. The feeling was beyond all expectation, electrifying! 
At this moment, my mother called me and I automatically answered! She traced me to the bedroom and as she came and looked under the bed I tried to hide my legs up behind me! She asked what I was doing there with no mention of what I was trying to hide. I gave a feeble excuse of playing coalminers or something, she said ok and left. 
When it was quiet and my pulse had normalised I got out removed the nylons, blew off all the fluff and dust they had accumulated under the bed, rolled them up and placed them back where I had found them. 
No indication that I was “found out”.
I was now hooked!