RELUCTANT PRESS

"Ah, there you are, Carol," exclaimed Mrs. Baker to an older sales lady as we got into the women's Department. "Meet my latest protege, Danielle. What do you suggest for her."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Danielle," she greeted politely as she checked me out from head to toe and front to back. Surely this trained eye would detect that I was a fraud and the image of me behind bars sprung up again.

"She's delightful, Ma'am. Perhaps, with the exception of your lovely daughter, the best of the bunch. I have some ideas."

She left and Mrs. Baker told me that she had brought each of my sorority sisters for a similar excursion to Wellington's. "My own little initiation for you girls," she added with a wink.

Soon Carol was back with a bunch of dresses in her arms. She went to a private room and Mrs. Baker and I followed. Carol placed the dresses on a rack and without a word untied the sash on my robe and slipped it off my shoulders. At least my full slip provided some small degree of protection from the two gazing women, but for how long?

One after another, a dress was held out for me to step into or slipped over my enlarged head and buttoned or zipped by Carol after which I paraded up and down the room while the two women discussed among themselves whether it was "right" for me. I sure was glad this was all taking place in a room away from the main floor.

Finally, they decided that a white flowered number with a scoop neck and full skirt was "just made for me!" It was delightful and I loved it. There was an inch of scalloped soft lace around the neckline and on the short sleeves. At last we were finished and hopefully could get back to the relatively safe confines of the salon. But I was not done yet. Carol pinched and tucked and raised the hem a few inches. These changes were all held in place by straight pins which meant I was particularly careful removing the dress.

"The alterations will be done right away, Ma'am and I will bring it to the salon dressing room with the proper accessories before you leave."

"Thank you Carol! Your are a wonder as usual," replied Mrs. Baker.

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RUFFLES & CURLES

By Kammi Morton

We did go back to the salon, but in a slow and circuitous path as Mrs. Baker browsed through the racks of clothing, asking my opinion about this or that.

Mr. Alex's assistant was waiting for us and we followed her to a room where there were four dryers, all new models with luxurious chairs. I had noticed a much larger room with dozens of dryers as I came in, but they must have been for the "peasants" and this area was reserved for the elite clients of Mr. Alex. The dryer had been pre-heated to a comfortable temperature and the girl adjusted the hood to the proper height. She used some levers to recline the back and raise the footrest until I was almost lying down. I was so comfortable that I could easily have fallen asleep. But I was not to be left alone. Two different women came in and one sat at my feet and the other next to me. Thus began my first professional manicure and pedicure. While I had had my nails painted before this was the first time I got the full treatment: soaking, filing, massaging, and buffing.

Wow, a guy could get used to this real easy, I thought as I lay back and allowed myself to be pampered.

Mrs. Baker was receiving the same treatment in the chair next to me. The two manicurists finished just as the dryer clicked onto cool, indicating that it would soon shut off. But there was still much to come!

The next stop in my adventure was at a make-up station where I almost laid back flat while a very pretty woman expertly and efficiently worked on my face, eyes, and lips. She talked constantly about various products that I should be using to keep my skin soft and the various shades that looked good on me. For someone who had never applied make-up by myself it was difficult to grasp all she was saying.

In what seemed like almost no time at all she had me back in a sitting position, turned away from the large wall mirror and right away Cindy, Mr. Alex's assistant was there to walk me back to his private booth.

Again, I was turned away from the mirror as she removed the net and rollers and did a preliminary comb out.

After a few minutes of waiting, Mr. Alex burst into the room and right away began teasing my hair, almost painfully at times, and I felt him gently comb and arrange my hair. He walked around me several times tucking a strand of hair

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