Heel marks

hen we moved into the house there was carpets in most rooms, as with the flat we had just left. Well that’s not strictly true, we had a ‘great’ time having to tearing them up before leaving. As this was going to be our first and by the looks of it our last house we were going to completely renovate until our decorating budget ran out.

We decided on tiles for the kitchen, bathrooms and hallway and wood (real or imitation) for the rooms. The only carpet was to be on the landing. As we wanted to completely refurnish the living room we went to the annual Mobelmesse (international interiors show) here in Cologne to get some ideas. We spent a day walking around noting what we didn’t want and realising at the end of our hike that we were no wiser than before we left that morning.
Luckily a friend introduced us to a couple that does interior design (her) and the technical and carpentry side (him). It worked well and we ended up with a combination of light coloured maple and bamboo for the sideboards, cabinets, multimedia wall and dining room table customised to our wishes.

We had decided on parquet for the living room and went for a light soft Canadian maple (to match the furnishings) that turned out to be very soft. Yes I know we heard the warning bells too. But our minds were set. We were advised to take a thick layer so as to have the possibility of sanding it down and re-lacquering sometime in the future. The picture doesn’t do it justice, but one can see it is light in colour.

We realised that the ‘customised’ living room had taken a real chunk out of our budget and so the floors upstairs would have to be somehow downgraded. So it was decided to have a plastic wood imitation lamination in the bedroom and my workroom in the roof, and a cheap wood lamination in MrsA’s office. Well our Canadian maple has over the years being marked and dented from hard objects being drawn over or falling on it, the worse to date was one of my iPads falling off the sideboard..
[Ed: I suppose of its own accord!?]
Well yes, sort off..
[Ed: Thought so, mind of their own]
??
The iPad survived but the screen saver showed some weird psychedelic colours and was as if stretched like looking through a prism. As I had nothing to lose, I took it in both hands and tried to twist it along the major axis. The 'bending' worked and normality was returned. I take it I had with the manoeuvre reconnected the lose internal screen plug to the motherboard. I bought a new one after that..
[Ed: Any excuse..]
Hey! I couldn't take the chance it would warp again could I?
Well to date it hasn’t and now I have three (long story).

Now back to the floor.
There are also marks from heels of some of our female visitors and one in particular that usually forgets to bring her flats. Most of our ‘regular’ visitors now know following a little prep talk that they have to bring slippers or soft shoes otherwise either they have to stay outside or 'reduce' to socks/stockings or bare feet.
With the experience and anger it brings, the living room has become a total DMZ for outdoor shoes of any kind. This now works quite well but unfortunately the damage is done.
I don’t even have to put on my stern ‘I hope you brought your slippers’ stare anymore when I greet them in the (tiled) hallway. Some of our friends are so compliant that they swap their footwear out in the pouring rain if need be before ringing the door bell!
Just in case someone is forgetful or we have spontaneous visitors we have a number of felt slippers in a box in the hallway similar to some stately houses with floors that get a regular polish by paying visitors.
I have over the years discussed and scrutinised with MrsA on more than one occasion the impressions we get left with following visitors. Hence these telltale marks are readable to anyone who has had problems of this type. Our stair case is also wood and has marks from the previous owners daughter, typical round stilettos marks. Fortunately due to the lighting in the stairwell they are only visible when you know where to look.

Up to this point you may have some sort of inkling where this is all leading. You may be thinking it’s to do with heel marks, and if any of you have taken a look at my heel collection, then it's to do with my heels.
Well right on both accounts.
But as of today and in the future I hope to not leave this type of impression in the living room floor. This room and the stairs are absolute taboo to my heel walkabouts..
[Ed: Don’t you mean wobbleabouts?]
Indirectly yes, that too. The last thing I want to do on top of micro heel patterns is slip and gorge a gorge in the floorscape!

Accidents of the usual kind that MrsA and myself make introduce lets say ‘character’ to the floor and is to a certain extent okay. My heel patterns would make MrsA realise there is another woman in the house beside herself, and then there would be a ‘talk’ that I have been avoiding for what seems like eons.
Even if I would never walk in heels in the living room, when I on the rare occasions have the place to myself for longer than an hour I will sometimes dress and go and lounge around on the couch. Yes that is a ladder in my tights.. #$%*!

If you look closely at the picture left [Ed: above and to the left of the light reflection] these marks are from the forgetful female visitor mentioned above and are not from me!
While dressed I go upstairs carrying my heels, then put them on, check myself and take pictures in the large mirror on the landing. If the sun is shining I would go into the bedroom to sit on the bed to see how I look in daylight (see picture below).
It may sound strange that about daylight, its not because I have strange blood running through my veins, its because all my stash is stored in the cellar and were I normally stay when dressed. Its only now and then I risk it to come up and see myself in sunlight.

Now that I have giving you some background to sensitive floors and pointed heels and were I wear them, I must revise something I said about the floors in the bedroom and office. 

I'm not sure how I mixed things up in my head but the bedroom and office floor material is the other way round!
That is plastic wood imitation lamination in the office and cheap wood lamination in the bedroom. This sounds more logical from the wear and tear perspective. Office floor robust and bedroom floor well, comfortable.
And this is also how we planned it!
Hence I have over the last couple of years been walking back and forth on wood and to top it all on soft cheap wood!

Well quite some time ago while I was in the office with the door semi shut. I heard our cleaning woman come out from the bedroom next door onto the landing and call MrsA. I though nothing of it as they both disappeared into the bedroom. I heard a bit of a muffled conversation until MrsA called me to come over.
As I entered they were talking as they were bent down almost on their knees looking at the floor at an acute angle. I had no idea what was going on until I was asked to join them and also look at the floor at the same angle. I saw the reflection of the sunlight through the bedroom window opposite on the floor and their in relief there were markings!!

I immediately knew what they were and I had a moment of sinking and becoming sort of out of focus with my surroundings. I heard MrsA a long way away asking me what I thought they were. 
I quickly returned and went into my um and ah routine as with the twinkle glitter findings in the cellar from my pink prom dress.
I came over ‘confused’ and muttered something about ‘I have no idea how they came about’, knowing full well how they came about! I really thought the games was up, but even after our cleaning woman had left, I heard nothing more about it.
It can't be more than a dozen times, but I have been leaving my 'mark' all this time, not much, but readable with the right light.
Of course I didn’t bring up the subject again, but I still wonder why with the experience and findings we had in the living room that she had not given any indications of knowing and imagining how they came to appear in the bedroom. Maybe she is waiting for me to make the first move and admit they are from me. Or maybe she just wants to forget it all, and get back to business as usual.

I have loaded above two pictures for your scrutiny, I think it's obvious what they are, but your opinion would be welcome.

Pink Prom Dress – II – Arrival & Fitting

ne morning as I entered my office there it was, an olive green plastic bundle looking like it would explode at any moment. I knew it was ‘The Dress’ as I was still in a daze and hadn’t ordered anything else since that day. Normally I would wait for an opportunity later to open my orders and take a look and if they were heels even try them on after everyone had gone home.
Here I was hesitant to even make a little hole and peek in. With the way it way puffed up and under tension I knew that if I unpacked it in no way would I get it back into the bag and closed up again. I would just have to make do with waiting until I got home.
At least I knew it was the right colour; it had the word PINK in big capital letters on the address label mixed in with cryptic article coding. If anyone had seen this from reception to my office they didn’t comment, actually thinking about it nobody said anything, not even about it arriving...
I must say that was a very long rest-of-a-day.

That evening I had the chance to disappear into the cellar and with one ear monitoring upstairs I carefully opened the package. Why is it that some plastic bags make so much crackling noise when handled! You try to be quiet and they wake the dead with every crackle! I opened just one end (minimal noise) and removed the transparent inner bag.
Wow what a pink! Pink is not my favourite colour but looking at this I could be persuaded otherwise.

I opened the inner bag and pulled out the dress.
I realised almost instantly that I was not in control. It started to unravel of its own accord as if programmed to do so! It reminded me of a runaway inflating inflatable dingy! Every time I tried to grab at one part of the skirt, it would expand in another direction! This was the first time I was in close proximity to such material and in this volume. It had a life of its own. Finally the ‘program’ hit exit and everything stopped moving. It just laid there – a sea of pink!
I sat down and starred. Before me was the real thing not just a picture of a prom dress. I let out a long wow, quiet like as if in awe of what lay before me.. 

I was tempted to try it on, but realised this was going to be no mean feat considering all the material. It was a no go anyway, as MrsA could come down anytime to check the washing machine which was rumbling next door, also they had forgot to include the instruction manual with the dress. A long Abi session would be needed to explore this unknown terrain.
I pulled my eyes away from the glitter and twinkling of sequins and stones and made a temporary storage space for quick access at the next session, by the look of it I would need all the time I could get. I also had to figure out in which stash box it would be stored or start a new one for ‘my pink precious’.
With the quick stash area in easy reach and no movement from upstairs I decided to at least lace the ribbon into the loops at the back of the dress before calling it a day. I didn’t leave any slack because I was afraid I wasn’t going to need any, just the opposite by the look of it..
I packed it away as best I could; normal folding as with most materials wasn’t possible, it just sprung apart again! It would have been better to hang it up but that was out of the question as with all my dresses. I must admit I’m not really some one that looks after clothes in general, but funny enough with my dresses its different, another relationship. I find it really frustrating to have to fold them together and depending on the material knowingly crease them before literally stuffing them in boxes. It hurts.

To save even more time on the evening before the next Abi session, I went in search of my pink heels. I was also thinking of looking for a corset, but I still had a feeling that the dress was too big and it wouldn’t help. Also putting it on would take time and I wanted to know as quick as possible where I was size wise. The next day as soon as I returned from taxing MrsA to rehearsals, I was off down into the cellar. I unpacked the dress and spread it out over a chair.
I was now confronted with the logistics of getting into it.
 

I had no real idea on how to proceed; there was so much material to get into! I had no first hand, let alone second hand knowledge about contraptions of this kind. I never saw anyone putting on a dress of this type and never found any YouTube videos titled ‘How princesses put on dresses’ or ‘How not to ruin your prom by tripping up while putting your dress on’.
No. No tips anywhere.
 

This could of course mean either there wasn’t any out there, or that it would be so simple and straight forward that it was not deemed necessary to even include an IKEA like schematic diagram in the packaging. As I held up the dress and turned it around, I started my own set of instructions. At the top was: Try and not step on to the material as you get into it.

With this in mind, I decided to sit down and step with both feet into the top and work it up until I had to stand and bring up the rest. It worked; I then drew up the dress very slowly making sure I didn’t feel any resistance which would have meant I was down there standing ‘on it’ and not ‘in it’.
At last I was standing, the skirt kind of rested on my hips - what there is of them - but I had the feeling the dress would slip any time and the bodice even with the lacing done up to maximum felt lose. Ok as in the picture I didn’t have to constantly hold it up and although I wasn’t ‘fully’ dressed under the bodice, I knew that the dress was too large. 
Darn it!

There had been always the chance that the theoretical work upfront would be off and now I had the proof that it was. Ok it was not ideal, but as I had come this far I decided to see if the skirt length was at lease correct, in bare feet it was catching in the carpet.
I sat down. Well it was more of a panic initiated fall down. I just couldn’t see my legs! I of course knew they were in there somewhere, but without visual feedback I was afraid I would tangle my feet in or stand on the dress, and so instead I just flopped down onto the chair. Rather hard as it turned out as I was a little bit further away from it than I thought.
 
In all that pink I went in search of my feet. I eventually found them and it was on with the heels. I was now ‘armed’ down there with two pointed weapons. The last thing I wanted to do at this time was heel the hem, so I very, very slowly started to go about getting up again. As I checked my balance I made sure I gathered and held as much of the skirt in my hands up and away from the floor as I could until I was fully standing.
 

I let lose the skirt and enjoyed the sensation of the material cascading down my bare freshly shaven legs. Wow, now that was something! I slowly started towards the mirror and while doing so saw my reflection for the first time.
It just hit me and I abruptly stopped.
Up until that moment I was occupied with being somewhat down with the realisation of choosing the wrong size and concentrating on the mechanics of getting into and standing in the dress without mishap.
As I starred at myself in the mirror I had the feeling of detachment, as if that was someone else in the mirror. It didn't last long, the sensation of the heels and the caressing of the skirt brought me back into sync.
 

I have never in all my years had this type of tactile sensation in the clothes dept. I felt my eyes starting to water up as I thought about what I had missed over the years. I quickly got hold of myself again, quite literary in fact; being half blinded at that moment I instinctively grabbed two handfuls of skirt and raised them so as to complete the manoeuvre to the mirror without stumbling.
 
You’re not normally conscious of wearing every day clothes, apart from selecting what to wear for the day or when one gets compliments to them. With this dress it was really something else, in its own category, a completely new feeling for me.
I was fascinated with the space it took up around me, a space that you had to be constantly conscious with every move of trying to anticipate and avoid collisions, like having to think ahead when contemplating a simple thing like sitting down.
It may be a silly comparison but it's like when you get a new car and drive it for the first time. You have to take on the space it takes up and make its handling an extension of the ‘you’, especially in my case when reversing or parking as with the dress when I tried to reverse and park myself on the chair. It’s good that cars have bumpers and I some built-in padding at my rear end. Ok it becomes routine over time, if one has the opportunity that is.
 

After spending what seemed like ages looking at myself in the mirror - I won’t go so far to say admiring myself - I checked the length and found I had an inch or so to spare to the floor. It looked good. At least that had worked out ok. I raised the hem to check I wasn’t standing on its inner layers and then let it fall again.
The length was just about right for careful walking and dancing.. Did I just say dancing? [Ed: Yes, dancing!]
Ok, ok nobody is going to whisk me around the dance floor in this or any other dress. Usually it’s me taking the lead and doing the whisking around.
But still the idea.. [Ed: ? ]

I started to look slowly up away from my feet. The skirt was sitting well enough, the bodice was not. As I said it was lose and was not fitting snugly at all. It had creases, not how I had imagined it. Then I saw my shoulders & upper arms and winced. What one doesn’t have in the chest and hips dept. one can build up and with the appropriate ‘tools’ pull in the waist. But one cannot ‘build down’ ones shoulders, only hide them in some way.
 

I had an idea, I went mentally through my wardrobe until I found what I thought would do nicely to cover them, a light cream coloured bolero like thing.
I had originally bought it for covering my shoulders with my sleeveless festive dresses. It’s not ideal colour wise but was dirt cheap and surprisingly in my size (I’m always surprised when I find something in my size). I decided to dig it out and see how it looked.
Now that was a problem, I couldn’t remember in which of my 10 stash boxes I had parked it!
 

[Ed: And where was that detailed inventory list with type, colour, size and location that I painstakingly created and edited for you?]
Yes, yes I know the one your thinking about, it’s just I couldn’t remember where that was located either! Maybe I was getting into panic mode as time was moving on. There was nothing for it but go through them all. 

As eight of my boxes are stored above shoulder level it was not easy to climb up onto a chair and bring them down one by one until I had found the bolero. It was in the fifth box I opened. And all this in the prom dress! That cost time and a balancing act I can tell you!
[Ed: At least you removed your heels.]
Yes but only after the third box! I was so annoyed with not remembering where I had stashed the list and therefore in which box the bolero was that I just forgot about them! At least it shows that the heels are comfortable but not, in the long run, ideal for climbing expeditions.
 

I was pleased with the look; it covered my shoulders and arms quite well. It’s cuddly too, even if it is pure synthetic crackling like a distant electrical storm when one takes it off. What I like is that it twinkles a little in the light as with the dress. The pictures don’t show this well, as with all my snaps, but you can get some impression with the pictures here.
 

Time was getting on and I had to get changed, pack everything away and store the boxes back in their places. Instead of actively getting out of the dress I thought I would see how lose it was. So I just wriggled about a bit and it fell without help to the floor. Yes it was really lose. I stepped out and gathered it up and held it to me. This phase is always a little sad when a session comes to an end, especially when a growing panic comes on that I’ll not clear up in time.
Of course I made it with time to spare, but funny enough you only know that afterwards. I checked and re-checked for any tell-tale Abi activity around the cellar before returning upstairs to daylight. Its routine now, which, if one is not careful can lead to mistakes. 
Well it did. 
I had missed something, but I’ll dedicate a complete post to this in part III.

So what next?
I spent the next days, looking at the pictures I had taken. I could see that the bodice was not sitting right and this just underlined the fact I wasn’t at all happy with the situation.
[Ed: More disappointed than usual?]
Yes, the prom dress session was lovely, but the dress way too lose which put the dampers on it all. Usually I’m always positive about such sessions. There is always the fun and play part to it all. The colours, the lacy and twinkle glitter bits, the different materials and the different perspective when ‘high’ on heels. In all it makes me for a while content if that’s the right word. It brings me home to a part of me that had no tangible chance over the years to express its self, now I can to a certain extent. I would be even more content if I could be ‘me’ more often in my own time and having the chance to get completely dressed from wig to painting my toe nails. Will see what comes being home all the time.

So I had to make a decision with the dress:

1. keep it and on rare occasions get it out and wear it but with the frustration that it didn’t fit as it should, or
2. send it back and that was that, no pink prom dress, or
3. send it back and order the next size down, giving me the chance of 1. with I hoped less frustration as the next size should fit better.

I was mildly surprised that I decided on 3. as with this whole pink prom dress business.
Another first for me was sending articles back to the UK. Here in Germany with the large on-line retailers like Zalando, they don’t charge any P&P within the country, making one less hesitant when ordering and returning. With the UK, it would mean giving out P&P three times (2x UK to here and 1x back to UK). I would then be paying about 120% on top compared to the price of the dress. This sounds a lot, but the dress wasn’t that expensive only standard international parcel post is.
I packed it as best I could in the original bag, a tight squeeze but with enough brown tape it looked like it would survive the trip and then it was off to the post office. I was a little afraid it would disappear into the UK postal black hole which I had had experience in the past (see Twilight Zone: Stockings VI), but it would be tracked so I had some info when and where it was. On the same day I ordered the dress in the size UK26 and went into waiting mode again.

Three days later there it was again on my desk. I checked the label and noticed in addition to the expected word PINK; I saw a little ‘26’ mixed in with the coding. My heart beat a little faster as I packed it away for smuggling home.
 
I left it packed until my next Abi session came along. I had been waiting long enough that a few more days wouldn’t make any difference. Of course it did make a difference as I was developing mixed feelings about it. On the one hand I was eager to open and try it on. On the other I was somewhat hesitant because it could mean it was still too large and then what would I do?
So the day came where I would have again about three hours alone. So it was down to the cellar and carefully unpacked it. I held it up and critically looked at the bodice. Ok it was 2 inches smaller going by the size chart but one couldn’t see this. The only chance was to try it on. I dug out my white corset knowing where it was after remembering its location by the last box hunt. I pulled myself in as far as I could without going over the top. I need a clear head, not circulation problems with potential blackouts.
 
Well, it fitted much better than the other one. Again I wasn’t fully dressed in the chest dept. To do this properly I need more preparation time and I didn’t think I had it. I did have my strapless bra on (recently bought for this purpose), but no time to create a cleavage. I just wanted to see in principle if I needed to contemplate another size down. Which I was happy to say was not the case. The lacing at the back was almost closed and when I create the right bust I expect I would have more flexibility in tightening up the back.
This time I pinned on the bow to demonstrate that the dress was going to stay.
 
So I spent some time enjoying the feeling of the dress. Moving around in it, learning to sit down and in the heels standing up without having to use the chair as support. 
After looking at the clock I tried the wiggling test, and to my satisfaction the dress didn’t fall down. This time only a little sad having to call it a day and packing everything away. It had been a long haul but I was happy to have now a princess dress (in pink) in my collection.
 
Since that session in November last year and writing this up I haven’t had it on again. 
One of the reasons for this is that I’m a little hesitant in unpacking it. 
See the third, and yes finial part of this post to find out why..

Her Stash and Me

ome of you may have caught on from my previous posts that I have my Stash in the cellar. It’s not really hidden (difficult with the volume it takes up, especially the shoes) but is sprinkled between the chaos that is indirect a smoke screen for MrsA as well as the normal chaos that reigns in our cellar. 

This chaos makes it difficult to find something at the best of times and in general it’s not advisable to put a unprotected hand in a box or case without peering in before(-the-)hand, something just might bite back. I won’t say it has Indiana Jones mantraps, or woman traps for that matter, it’s just dangerous if one is not experienced with the landscape, pitfalls… ok traps.  
Wanting to go into the cellar and explore usually means advanced terrain training, a backpack and extensive blood tests upfront.

I will mention again that MrsA is completely in the dark about Abigale. Well, let’s say as far as I can tell that is. We have been together over 40 years and although it’s no guarantee, I think I would have got the vibes about it if she knew. This means I have very little time to dress and become one with the rest of me and enjoy it. 

On the rare occasions I am alone at home, it’s not more that about 4 hours. With a 4 hour stint I try and limit dressing activities to about 2 hours or so, allowing the rest as a ‘Surprise I’m home!’ safety window to follow. This activity window is just not enough time to get completely dressed and un-dressed, the whole works. 
For a boy yes, for a girl with my experience definitely no! Unless, that is, I restrict my activities to one or maybe two aspects of getting ready and then unready. For example the last stint was focused on trying to create a passable bust and cleavage.
 
[Ed: more in a separate post with pictures]
 
I’m quite spontaneous in things I do around the home, usually to the dismay of MrsA, especialy when it comes to clearing up. Something can start off as harmless that ends up as a major (re)construction project. When we were living in an apartment, I got it in my bonnet one year to clear up a 'few things' in the living room late one Sunday. After MrsA had gone to bed in total frustration at 1 in the morning, I was still in full swing rearranging the complete livingroom furniture, just about everything that wasn't nailed down!
[Ed: Moving the piano around the living room after midnight goes down so well with the neighbours living downstairs..]
Very true, especially when the neighbour just happens to be your landlord! 

Another time I took it into my head to spontaneously wallpaper the kitchen on New Year’s Eve with a snowstorm ranging outside. As we could not completely open the window after finishing to remove the almost tropical humid air, we decided to leave it a jar with the kitchen door closed. Bushwhacked we retired for what was left of the night. While slumbering, the temperature dropped dramatically and the window decided to get some freash air. The next morning on entering I went skating across the now ice and snow ladened floor landing in a pile of pots and pans. 

Well in this vain, late one Friday evening I decided to start to clear out the cellar and not just half heartily as for the last few years. Firstly because I just couldn’t stand the mess anymore and secondary I wanted to make space for an Abigale session on the Sunday morning as MrsA had a rehearsal meaning a maximum time slot was on the cards. Well of course it’s easier said than done especially after years of neglect (clearing out not dressing).
You may know the situation: move bits and pieces from A to B, then weeks/months later from B to C, then years/eons later Surprise! One finds the pieces and bits (in a different order) have migrated back to location A of their own accord! 
Well this time I wanted to breakout of this circulus vitiosus and really get things moving direction rubbish tip. So my strategy was to go blindly in and without any real plan just grab and throw.
At first it was like an adrenalin kick, an act of freedom, a weight off .. off something or other. Totally banal things like two dozen power cables from equipment long gone, boxes of indefineable thingamajigs, 386 CPUs, non-recyclable Christmas presents because we forgot to label them with the name of the giver, empty picture frames needing something or someone to frame, round-pined British plugs (in two sizes), heaps of odd chopsticks enough to play Mikado with, bits of IKEA leftovers following an ‘IKEA construction party’ ...
[Ed: IKEA construction party?]
You know.  
Invite all your friends over, give them either a screwdriver or a hammer and leave sets of Alan/Hex keys at strategic locations. Pin the instructions to the wall and while they are distracted - half of them wondering why they need a screwdriver and the other half banging like mad weird looking bolts in ill aligned holes - you leave for the pub and hope they are finished before last orders.

While sorting some of the things brought up the questions 'where in **** did that come from?' or 'Did I buy this? I certainly don’t remember!'. After a time my good intentions started to wane, I could feel myself physically holding back just before letting go and the delay was increasing. 

I try before a clear out session to enter the state of Mushin (no-mind) in preparing to ban any gremlins that may appear like 
‘you know you need to keep this .. this whatever it is’ …
‘you know it may come in handy someday, even if it’s still in the original packing crate from the last move 25 years ago’ …
‘you know if you throw it today, you will find a use for it tomorrow’ … etc. 

Are these thoughts ingrain or are they brought on by being bitten by a hording bug? 

Anyway the point is, when I start such a 'session' I must keep going until I drop or get told off, whatever comes first. As I didn't get told off (Mrs.A was glad I was out of the way, she knew where I was and that I could only get up to limited mischief) and even though I had slowed down in banning bits to the bin, the place was chaos pure by late Saturday evening. 

Sunday morning came and my ‘Abi alone at home’ slot was imminent. I usually try and offer to drive MrsA back and forth to the rehearsals so I can ‘control’ the begin and end of a slot. This allows me the maximum out of it before I get the ‘come and get me’ call. 
Doesn’t always work, as on this morning. Mrs.A wouldn’t have it, she thought she was doing me a favour and had arranged for one of the cast to pick her up. 

I usually get worked up when I know a session is coming. Thinking about what I want to wear and when the time comes trying franticly to find it in my stash boxes. After she left, I went down to the cellar and entered. 
The chaos hit me like a wave, just no space available to really girl it. 
I backed out headed for the kitchen and made myself a cuppa. On looking at the clock I sighed and decided to take my time and just catalogue my stash instead, it was about time to take stock anyway. 
I realised that I had just lost track of things. This is not surprising as some items only see the light of day while unpacking at work and when possible after smuggling them home into the cellar to be stashed. 

I’ll backtrack a little and tell you about my modus operandi when buying stuff for Abi. 
[Ed: She’s off at a tangent again! Watch that your tea doesn’t get cold!]
Ok.
 

Apart from over the counter a few lipsticks and pantyhose in the distant past, I now exclusively order everything on-line. I am envious of all you girls that can go out and buy in whatever mode you are, I just cannot do that. There are a number of reasons and not just shyness, but more on this another time. Buying on-line without having the opportunity to try it on first does bring its problems. 
My first hurdle was finding out what woman’s sizes I was, head to toe. Ok, there are sites that help to get a girl going and ‘conversion’ charts with bust-waist-hip measurements as a guide, but they are ‘only’ a guide. As with most clothing, male or female, the acid test is when trying it on. This means for me after unpacking and a seldom Abi session. 
As I mentioned I have everything sent to my work address, never home. MrsA would catch on quick enough with either asking outright what was in the parcel or from reading the tell-tale labels on them. 
With the stream of parcels arriving at work over the last couple of years from Amazon, Otto, NewLook, etc., I let it be known that I was the central hub for the collective buying craze of my family and friends. Why me and at work? Well the excuse was because there is always someone to open the door on weekdays 07:00 to 19:00 and take in parcels. This is in part true, only I’m the main culprit with buying for Abi and some non Abi stuff for home! 

I’m not that happy with NewLook’s packaging, they stick a short version of the invoice on the outside listing the contents so every nosy person can see what’s within (pic after removal). 
Luckily they don’t put the size on the outside, only with the invoice inside, otherwise the cat would be out of the bag as most of the staff know MrsA and can put two and two together and come up with something other than four... 

With Amazon I usually try to combine things, for example a book or DVD and an Abi garment, make up, wigs etc. My last combi package was a white satin corset and a book (The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage by Sydney Padua). I then unpack the book/DVD (leaving the Abi item in the box) and display it on my desk for anyone who is interested. Any Abi garments I would try on in the restroom when everyone had gone home. 
This works surprisingly well, after a time my regular parcel intake became routine and less interesting to the rest of the staff. It got to the point that any Amazon parcels automatically landed on my desk even if they weren’t for me! 
One time I just happened to be at the front desk when a parcel arrived. As I was signing for it, the courier realised it was for me. He was overjoyed that at last he could thank me personally in the name of himself, wife and kids for helping to keep him employed over the last year! I was a little taken back and thought he was taking the mickey, but I couldn’t see this from his face, he just smiled, I reciprocated, he turned and left leaving me wondering what that was all about. 
I know I buy a lot of stuff, but keeping courier families above the breadline is carrying it bit far!

With Amazon & Co they use plastic bags for clothes which is not a problem, but with NewLook (UK), they use them for heels (I forgot to say, the bag above has my latest heels (3 pairs) they arrived today!). This has lead more than once to the heels of the shoes working their way through their own packaging and out through the outer bag! I usually order 3 or more pairs at once, so I get the P&P free.
 
[Ed: well that’s her excuse!]
 

One day I got back from lunch and found my latest order on my desk. As I picked the bag up and turned it over there were two holes each with a high heel poking through! One was a 4 inch black stiletto (left) and the other, a 6 inch beige (right) with the hole large enough to see the whole heel, it’s a wonder the order survived the transport! 
If the person who put the bag on my desk had ‘manhandled’ the bag a while (there was enough time from the front desk to my office) and took a peek into the larger hole they would realise the shoes where not for small feet (e.g. MrsA). If the penny has dropped in the office I have had no hints. Knowing my staff if they got wind of my collection they would probably want a demonstration on an improvised catwalk! 

When an ‘Abi-order’ arrives I usually can’t concentrate that well on my work. I end up waiting for the day to end and hoping all the staff get off home on time, so I can try on the garment or heels. Sometimes one or two of them work late as they have to prepare for being on the road or in the air the next day. I then have to weigh up either holding out till the office is empty or going home with or without my ‘prizes’ and hope for better luck the next day. 

If I get impatient I can usually smuggle small items into the restroom cubical and try them on, hoping I’ve picked the right size. If they don’t fit I can then repackage and bring it to the post or collection point the next day. 
Shoes are more difficult to smuggle but when I do I can try them on for ‘fitness’, but the real test is to try and walk in them and not just stand around wobbling about or not. In this case I would leave them at work until a free evening to walk them ‘in’ on the offices’ 45 meter long corridor and wear them at my desk working late into the night.
 
[Ed: Working late? You mean either hanging out, pinning pins or writing your posts all with your heeled feet up on the desk!]
A girl has to have fun now and then… 

So after trying out the clothes and shoes it’s either repacking the items for sending back, rare but has happened. Or working out how to smuggle the new arrivals all at once, or in stages, home to the ‘safety’ of the cellar. This is not always easy to manage; sometimes the item(s) would have to stay in the car boot until I got the opportunity allowing me to make a ‘dash with my new stash’. 

And so after coming full circle we are now back in the cellar and my tea is cold ...
 
[Ed: I told you! I’ll go upstairs and brew a new pot; you get on with cataloguing]
 
Ok, so where to start?
Well, I decided to close my eyes and with a sweep of my arms I cleared a table ignoring the clatter of indefinable objects as they hit the floor. Luck was on my side no shattering of broken glass. 

I have 4 medium sized (18”x18”x12”) (audio monitor boxes from my studio) for clothes and 2 classical plastic storage boxes (20”x16”x8”) where I store makeup and wigs and about half of my heels. The rest of my heels have their own individual boxes (see right. For a full catalogue with pictures check out under the sidebar 'Side Show' ‘My Heel Collection’).

I would rather have all my heels each to their own box, but that’s not practical, I’ve reached a critical point where anymore ‘shoe’ boxes turning up would bring them onto MrsA’s radar. The ones in boxes take up quite a lot of space but are much better than in plastic bags stuffed all together. 
I have from work ex-envelope boxes that are ideal for high heels which need almost square shaped boxes compared to heel-less flats (see above and left).

Some of the heels as with my Dorothy Perkins came in their own boxes (see right). Of course clear storage boxes would be better for each pair. Or the ultimate storage; a dedicated wardrobe unit for them in full display all in rows! And all my dresses hanging as they should be in easy reach..
 
[Ed: Ok, ok keep your wig on! There is very little chance that this will happen as you know.]
Yes true, it’s a lovely dream though.

Here some of my heel boxes stacked to be stashed.
So I took the first storage box and systematically started to rummage. I sorted under-wear and shape-wear from the over-wear. Colours together if I could and packed it all under pressure again back into the boxes but with method (the creases ugh!).
With the heels I checked each box for content and noted the relocation co-ordinates. I didn’t mark them in any way with content just in case they got exposed to MrsA eagle eye. Even just numbering them was not on. I think I am a little paranoid with this.

RFID tagging came to mind as Sheldon does with his socks, but that was too much of a hassle, I have other high tech gadgets to play with. After packing everything again I reluctantly pushed the storage and shoe boxes even higher and deeper into the darker regions of the cellar and barricaded it all in with heavy almost unmovable objects. The shoes that came in their own boxes (see the two red ones at the top of the stack in the picture) I stashed right at the back.

This means in future it will take longer to get to anything than it did before, even though I now know roughly where to look. Maybe it’s just frustration or due to something deeper. Maybe clearing up = less chaos = more chance of MrsA coming across something. I must say it is all rather depressing, this secrecy whittles away at one. 
As the stuff I buy is quickly sold out, I usually backup a picture of the item from the on-line store so I know what and where I bought them. Not for cosmetics of course, they don’t normally have a ‘size’ that would go out of stock within days. As I had the opportunity, I took pictures of the heels which I could not find again in the net (see collection). 

It was high time to ‘get it all out’ and at least look and handle it all again and of course get mega frustrated about not having the chance to really wear it for longer than an hour or so, if that.

Well the couple of hours went by quickly and I was just finished storing the pictures I took to file, when the front door opened and MrsA was home.
I am now up to-date on what I have hidden away. Interesting that there were few surprises, which surprised me as I just can’t for the life of me remember what boy clothes I have and I open the wardrobe daily!


It looks like I have a different relationship to my girl clothes than my boys.

Well the cellar is still in chaos mode, will slowly make room to be able to walk in a straight line in my heels instead of the slalom I have at the moment. 

I was going to list my stash here, but thought it would be better, as mentioned above, I have put a page under my ‘Side Show’ area for the heel collection with pictures, stats and a comment.
[Ed: What about the rest of your wardrobe?]
I might get round to making a separate short list under ‘Clothes & Co.’ for the rest when I have time. 
But for now it's grab a pair of my new heels, see if the coast is clear and make a dash for the restroom..