Peter carefully applied it, rolled his lips together and looked at me for approval. I told him it looked nice but told him that it’s his opinion that matters. “It looks OK I guess… I think I prefer it without the gloss.” he said. “Weird though… painting my face… I can’t imagine having to do it everyday… isn’t it a chore?”
“A bit.” I shrugged. “Most of the time I just wear lippy and a bit of eye-liner and don’t bother with the foundation and eye-shadow.” I informed him. “Why don’t you go and show Mum?” I suggested.
Peter gulped. “Er…”
“Go on… don’t be shy.” I persuaded.
Sheepishly he stood, smoothed his skirt, checked himself in the full length mirror and left. I chose the next skirt he’d be modelling and a couple of minutes later, he returned. “What did she think?”
“She said I looked nice.”
“Did you tell her you’d applied it?”
He nodded. “What’s next?” he asked.
“Another school skirt.” I said, handing him a navy blue A-line skirt. I averted my eyes whilst he donned it and dug out a different pair of tights. “Try these.”
“Blue?!” he gulped. I nodded and smiled and told him they’d look better with the blue skirt than grey tights. Reluctantly he donned them. “These look weird.” he groaned as he stretched out his leg.
“I know.” I grinned. “I hardly ever wore them but Mum said they were more ‘academic’ than black tights.”
“I think I’d rather wear white knee socks than these.”
“Well, let me get a couple of pictures first.” I said. “Then you can.”
“I wasn’t being serious.” he retorted as he slid his feet into the flat black ballet shoes. “Anyway my legs’ll be too hairy.”
“They’re not that bad.” I replied. “Plus that skirt’s a lot longer than the grey one.”
I took a few pictures from various angles before pestering him to try some knee socks. He wasn’t keen but I got my way and handed him a pair of white pelerine knee socks. “You’ve got to make sure the pattern is perfectly straight, and the tops have to level.” I advised as he pulled them up his legs.
“I’d prefer plain ones.” he moaned.
“Here, try these instead.” I said as he grabbed the ballet shoes.
“I prefer these.” he said as I handed him a pair of black Mary Jane’s with a modest inch-and-a-half heel. Regardless of his preference, he put them on and took his position. I grinned. “what?” he moaned.
“Nothing… you just look cute.” I smiled.
“I feel like a first year.” he bashfully stated.
“You look like one.”
Just then, Mum knocked on the door and entered. “How you getting on?” she asked. “Oh you look nice!” she grinned. “Very sweet.” she said. “It’s a pity your hair isn’t long enough for bunches.”
“Oh mu-um… this is embarrassing enough as it is.” he claimed.
“You’re loving it.” I claimed. Peter claimed otherwise.
Mum asked if we wanted a drink making or a snack fixing and offered and egg & bacon bun along with a pot of tea. I told her that he had one more school skirt to wear, then we’d be down. Mum left. I took a couple of photographs and gave him my black, box pleated skirt to wear.
“Girls get a lot more choice what they can wear for school don’t they.” he said as he took his position. He’s right. Boys can wear black or grey trousers for school whilst girls can wear black, grey or navy blue skirts with knife pleats, box pleats or A-line styles. Hosiery can be black, grey, blue or white and includes ankle socks, knee socks, over-knee socks or tights which can any denier over thirty.
“We get a lot more choice what we can wear full stop.”
“Yeah… seems a bit unfair when you think about it.” Peter supposed. “Not that I intend to start cross-dressing.” he added.
I raised the camera. “You’ve already started.” I chuckled before taking a photo.
“Wouldn’t this skirt look better with black tights?” he asked.
“Maybe… but it stands out better without.” I replied. I took a three more photographs. “Come on, lets go and eat something.”
“Can’t I get changed first?” he asked.
“Why?” I asked. “There’s only us here… no one will see you. No one will know.”
“I know I just feel a bit silly.” he replied. “Can’t I at least put some tights on?” he asked, adding “Black ones?”
“Oh stop being such a wuss… you look fine. Just pretend you’re a girl for the day and you always dress like that.”
“On a Sunday?” he asked.
“I can find you a nice Sunday dress if you prefer.” I suggested.