Next came another old favourite, a burgundy button through corduroy skirt which he wore with the same long sleeved T shirt but I put him in the burgundy skate shoes I always wore with it. Like the dungee-dress, he wore it well and looked really quite comfy. This was followed by a short distressed denim skirt, a knee length denim skirt, then a black and grey plaid skirt. “I like all of these skirts.” I said as I put them to one side.
“Why are you selling them then?” he asked.
“They don’t quite fit any more… and the money I make will go towards clothes that do.” I replied as I pulled out the next item. “I can’t wait to see you in this.” I grinned.
“More flowers.” he groaned.
It’s a short black skater dress with capped sleeves and a floral ditsy print in white. “I reckon black tights. What do you think?” I asked.
“Yeah I guess.”
“Can I play with your hair?”
“Do you have to?”
“No but I’d like to. In fact I think we should glam up your make up a bit too.”
“OK.” he groaned. “Just don’t spend ages and ages… it’ll be teatime soon.”
I sat him at my dresser and handed him some make-up wipes. He carefully removed his eye-shadow and eye-liner before wiping away his lipstick. “I’m back.” he said once his face was a blank canvas.
“Not for long.” I grinned. I applied a darker eye-liner and a heavier eye-shadow, before defining his brows with a pencil. “Can I tidy them a little?” I asked, wielding a pair of tweezers. I promised that I’d only take a couple of unruly hairs away and reluctantly, he agreed.
“They don’t look any different.” he said once I’d finished.
“I did say I’d only take a bit off.” I smiled. “Here, try this.” I said, handing him a lipstick.
He removed the lid and wound it up. “That looks dark.” he commented. “You’re not turning me into a goth are you?” he grinned before applying it.
“I can if you want.” I replied.
I squeezed some gel into the palm of my hand and applied it to his hair, giving his boyish hairstyle the pixie look he’d worn yesterday, before adding a couple of barrettes. “I must admit I am enjoying this.”
“I noticed.” he dryly replied.
“It’s like having a little sister.”
“It’s like being a little sister.” he retorted, just as dryly.
“Peter! Emma!” Mum’s voice hollered from the hallway. “Tea’s ready!”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Great timing Mum.” he groaned. “Shall I put those on?” he asked, gesturing towards the black ballet shoes.
“Sure.” I replied. He slipped his stocking feet into them and stood, mumbling something about Mum potentially fussing over him. “At least you’re wearing something nice.” I said before we both headed down to the dining room.
We entered and Mum did a double take before her jaw slowly dropped. “Peter you look absolutely lovely!” she exclaimed.
“Oh er… Emma did it.” he bashfully replied.
“I feel under dressed now.” Mum said as she looked him up and down.
“So do I.” I grinned.
Clearly embarrassed at Mum’s reaction, Peter stood sheepish and still as we admired his sassy feminine look. “Please, sit.” mum grinned. “Will you help serve Emma?”
“Sure.” I replied. It being a Sunday, we’re having the usual roast dinner; topside of beef, roast potatoes, carrot & turnip, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, Yorkshire puddings and gravy. If he wasn’t wearing so much foundation I expect my brother’s cheeks would be bright red as we ate. He received Mum’s string of compliments well but I had to inform her that she was embarrassing him. “He’s only dressed as a girl to help me sell my clothes… I don’t think he’s going to make a habit of it, are you Pete?”
“I hope not… I feel like I’ve already worn more skirts and dresses than most girls my age.”
“So you’re nearly finished then?” Mum asked.
“Yeah… there’s about fifteen maybe twenty to go, then he can be a boy again.” I grinned, winking at my brother.
“I can’t wait to see the pictures. Are they good?” Mum asked.
“Yeah they’re OK.”
“Some of them are.” Peter said. “Some of them are awful.” he added, listing a handful of the very worst items I’d had him modelling.
