The Wonderful World Of...

by Eileen (46-H−1)

A very attractive, very clothes-conscious, society lady once told me that she wished wearing beautiful dresses affected her as wonderfully as it did me. She knew me well enough to recognize the effervescent feeling that asserts itself whenever I am right- fully dressed; an effervescent thrill that she never quite attain- ed from clothes alone, despite her very well stacked closets.

This is the way it has been for more than thirty five years. Fatigue and weariness can disappear, worry and concern over the ordinary problems of every day living can be erased, and I can be light-hearted and carefree, whenever I open my closet doors and wrap myself in luxury. And during these many years, there have been enough teachers and personal experiences to show me just what styles and colors bring the greatest happiness. As all FP's know, all styles and all colors are wonderful, but some are even "More wonderfuller."

Sister FP's always seem to be interested in how this blissful state began. Certainly not from an over-indulgent mother wanting a daughter, nor from a meek and subjugated father whose image I disliked. My Mother was a real tomboy, and fostered my love of pets to the extent that she petted my captive snakes, fed my turtles allowed the horned toads to climb her lace curtains for insects in the window screens. Dad has always been swell; intelligent, an officer in the company where he worked, a wise and kind parent. never suffered 'petticoat punishment'.

I

So the need and the desire for dresses and high heels, like Topsy, just grew. The earliest incident that I can recall is from about the time I was four, maybe five. A neighbor girl of the same age had come over to our house to play, and I remember that I tried very hard to persuade her that we should change clothes. Alas, I was a lousy salesman, and she never agreed to my suggestion. Three or four years later, while attending school, I became entran- ced by a velvet beret, in those days they were "tam-o'-shanters", that one of my schoolmates wore, and I carefully noted where she hung it each time in the cloakroom. Asking for permission to leave

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