“Do I have to have a pink one?” I moaned.
Mother told me I did, for two reasons. “It matches your lipstick perfectly, and you need a splash of colour with that skirt & blouse.” she said with a smile. Vincent returned with a small vanity mirror and passed it to Mother. She opened the pink purse and dropped it inside, before telling me to fetch my spare stockings. “And be careful in those heels, they’re higher than you’re used to.” she advised.
It’s been so long since I wore heels I’m not used to them at all! I thought as I climbed the stairs. As a boy, I’m used to bounding up and using every second or third step, but in my tight knee length pencil skirt, I have no choice but to use every step. It seemed to take ages to reach the top step. I grabbed the two packs of stockings before carefully and cautiously descending the stairs. I handed them to my mother. “They’re for your clutch bag.” Mother said.
“What’s a clutch bag?” I thought, before realising she meant the purse.
I was afraid to touch it, but I knew I’d dug myself far deeper into this hole than I’d ever imagined, so picked it up and opened its flap. “Do they fit?” Mother asked.
“Just.” I replied as I slid the two pairs of stockings inside it.
“Your lipstick, gloss and powder needs to go in too.” Mother added as she passed me the bag. After looking me up and down a few times, her eyes panned around the kitchen. “Right I think that’s everything… oh no… you need a ribbon!” she exclaimed..
There’s a drawer in the Welsh dresser in which she keeps a collection of ribbons in all sorts of colours. She found a few pink ones and chose the one that most matched the clutch bag. “Oh Mother do I have to wear a ribbon?” I moaned as she cut a long length of it from the roll. “Can’t I have a white one instead?” I asked after she said ‘yes’.
“But this matches your purse.” she replied as she dangled the length of candy pink ribbon in front of my face. “And your lipstick.” she smiled. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve got a nail varnish in a similar colour too.” she added.
I rolled my eyes at Vincent as my mother tied the ribbon in my new curly hair. He cast a supportive smile back at me before his eyes shifted to look at the top of my head. I suspected Mother was tying the ribbon in a nice big bow, just as she’d tied in Vincent’s hair on so many occasions. The ribbon was held in place with a few hair slides, and the ribbon itself held my hair off my face. Mother trotted upstairs and I asked Vincent if I looked like a dick. “No.” Vincent replied. “You look like a girl.” he said.
“A girl with no uppers.” I replied as I looked down at my blouse and visible flat-bra. Vincent began to reply but silenced himself as he heard Mother return. She trotted back down the stairs with a small pink bottle in her hand. “Perfect!” she announced after holding it next to the pink purse. “Vincent, would you be a love and paint Andrew’s fingernails for him… I need to get myself ready.” she chirped before trotting back upstairs.