“If a boy is to be dressed as a girl,” declares the proprietress, taking over, “his dressing starts from the skin out. We all know how girls need the softest of delicate lingerie next to their tender flesh.” She opens a drawer of white silk and spreads three or four pairs of panties across the counter, drawing an audible moan of agony from Melvyn. “This is a Parisian panty that is becoming increasingly popular with savant mothers,” and she holds up a shimmering white, full-cut panty with lace round each leg and a white ribbon bow sweetening the middle of the waist.