Last week I wrote about my love for nylons and how my journey started. So it wasn't really surprising that it wasn't just panties and tights. Dresses, skirts, sweaters - nothing in my mother's closet was safe from me. I loved her reddish-brown boots and I think I was sadder than she was when they ended up in the bin and I found out too late. Incidentally, the subject of throwing away also accompanied me, but about that a different time.
You can call it braver or even more cocky and I'm sure that my mother must have noticed something, so unabashedly I helped myself in her wardrobe. I honestly don't remember when exactly it started. But I remember, and there are photos of that, that I started putting on make-up and conquering the house on days off. With Dad's camera and its timer, I took my first pictures. There was no internet or even smartphones and I still had to get the films developed. This was always accompanied by a knot in the stomach. In - hope no one wants to show me the pics - paying - leaving fast. Then unpacking at home with trembling fingers and having a first look.
If I would have had already digital photography and the internet back then - the blog would probably have started much earlier. So all I have left are memories of my evening outings, which I went on with Mama's long leather coat and hat. Unsteady in the high-heeled boots and heart pounding in my throat that one of the neighbors might see me. An area of single-family homes where everyone knows everyone is not the ideal area for walking in Mom's clothes.
have i been caught What happened next?
Stay tuned
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