Malcolm: Did my mother encourage my life-long love of soft silky feminine lingerie?

We lived in a very rural part of the UK countryside, several miles from our local village which comprised of a village store and post office, a baker and a butcher as the only shops, certainly no shops selling clothing. 

When I was about eight years of age, I became aware that Mother had some pretty matching silky nylon underwear, all in an apple-green colour.  Her nightdress or her full length petticoat was often blowing on the washing line or resting in the ironing basket, displaying all its pretty lace.

Then one day when Father was away on business, the postman delivered a large parcel wrapped in brown paper addressed to my mother.  She was excited and said to me, “Let's see what this is,” placing the parcel on the table.  She cut the string, no sticky tape in the 1950’s, and the brown paper burst open a little, disclosing a bright cherry-pink material and splashes of black lace.  Mother squealed with delight as she took it out, holding up the full length slip, which had black lacy shoulder straps and rows of black lace around the hem.  The contrast of the bright cherry-pink and the black lace was stunning.  She laid it out on the table in my full view.  Returning to the parcel, she unfolded what was a matching cherry-pink, very flared, half slip, equally adorned with black lace.  “Isn’t this pretty?" she said, to which I joyfully agreed.  This was laid next to the full slip on the table, but slightly folded, due to its fullness.  Next came a matching pair of knickers which were quickly placed on the table without comment.  Finally, she lifted out from the brown paper a gorgeous cherry-pink floor length nightdress with lashing of pretty black lace.  She stood up from the table, kicking her leg out to show the fullness of its skirt, whilst holding it against her body.  She danced around the room, holding it tightly against her self, adding that the ties at the waist would make it shapelier.  Almost speechless with joy, I agreed it was very pretty.   

She returned to the table and sat down to fold the brown paper away when she noticed a note.  She read it aloud to me.  It said, “I do hope you like the enclosed lingerie I have made for you.  I have been lucky enough to purchase some beautiful pale lemon nylon and matching lace (it was the 1950’s when luxury clothing was in short supply), so could make a similar set for you in this colour."

Seconds later, she was on the telephone saying, “Yes, please,” and I was lucky enough to regularly see splashes of apple-green, cherry-pink and pale lemon silky feminism around my home. 

Since the arrival of the postman with that parcel, I have always loved pretty petticoats and lingerie, and my present enjoyment is still fulfilled when seeing the many coloured petticoats swaying around the dance floor since taking up square dancing.   

Thanks Mother, your ever-grateful son. 


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