Peter grimaced and bit his lip. “I’m gonna look so gay in those.” he gulped.

“I think you’re forgetting what you look like.” I replied, before informing him that he’ll have to wear a pair of tights. He wasn’t keen. “Well it’s either tights, or you shave your legs.”

“I’m not gonna shave my legs!”

“Tights it is then.” I grinned, tossing him a pair.

“Can’t I wear thick ones?” he asked, clearly not keen on the thin ‘nude’ pair. “Black ones, like you’d wear?” he added.

“Let’s see how those look first.” I replied, before asking if he’d need some help. “I guess you’ve never worn tights before.”

“Not since I was a playing card in the school play.” he dryly replied.

I recalled the scene in the production of Alice in Wonderland. Peter was one of several playing cards and wore a pair of my school tights and my black long sleeved leotard beneath a sandwich board with the Six of Clubs painted on it. “I’d forgotten about that.” I smiled. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve worn my clothes.”

“Hopefully it’ll be the last.” he groaned.

I cast my eyes over the clothes yet to be photographed. It dwarfs the pile we’ve done. “Well… looking at this lot, we might have to carry on tomorrow.” I said.

“And the day after that if we keep stopping and talking.” he impatiently suggested.

“We’re waiting for you to change.”

“I’m waiting for a top.” Peter retorted. I suggested he put the tights and shorts on whilst I find one. “OK.” he sighed, before sheepishly changing in my room. I tried not to look because I knew he was embarrassed, but I couldn’t help but glance. The ‘magic’ knickers that Mum had given him are just a pair of black trunks really, with short legs and a high waist. He began to don the tights by gathering one leg over his hand. “You seem to know what you’re doing.” I commented.

“They’re just a big pair of socks really.” he said as he pulled one leg up to his knee before gathering the other onto his hand. “I think I’d prefer thick tights though.” he groaned as he pulled the thin, nude tights over his knees. He quickly pulled the shorts on and I tossed him a top; a cream sleeveless T-shirt with lots of colourful little sketches of women wearing dresses printed on it. “It’s bit girlie.” he moaned.

“They’re all a bit girlie… if you hadn’t noticed.”

He donned it and stood. “Shall I tuck it in?” he asked.

“I’ll need one with it tucked in to show off the shorts, and one with it out so they can see how long it is.”

“OK.” Peter stood by the wall and did as I asked; look over there, turn a bit, one from the back, tuck it in… he wore God knows how many different pairs of shorts, T-shirts and camisole tops with glitter, bows, flowers and frills. “I don’t get what girls like about this sort of stuff.” he whined as he donned a pink T-shirt with a bicycle print surrounded by flowers.

“It’s cute.” I replied. “I don’t get why boys are so boring when it comes to dressing themselves.”

“We’re not boring just because we don’t like flowers or frills.” he claimed. “Haven’t you got anything that’s plain?”

“Loads of stuff.” I retorted, listing the plain jeans and jumpers he’d started with. “It was you who wanted to save the nice stuff ’til last.” I reminded him.

“I’m beginning to regret that… maybe I should have got them over with first.” he said when I gave him a pair of black floral knee length shorts and a pretty burgundy top with glittery details.

“Well it’s too late now… everything’s in order and it needs to stay organised.” I said. “If it’s any consolation I’ve got a few old school skirts to get rid of… will they be plain enough for you?” I asked.