Dressing Mistress

⚡ ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

Dressing Mistress

French Maids available for Domestic Service
Digital Eloquence - (Post 3 - Award 5)

View all All Photos Tagged Mistress and Maid



SmugMug + Flickr .


Connecting people through photography.




About
Jobs
Blog
Developers
Guidelines
Report abuse
Privacy
Terms
Help forum

English






SmugMug + Flickr .


Connecting people through photography.


General Idea were deeply involved in Toronto’s emerging countercultural scene of theatre, music and the visual art. In 1969 the artists designed the stage set and posters for a performance at Theatre Passe Muraille. The production was an expanded version of French novelist and playwright Jean Genet’s The Maids (1947), in which two housemaids role-play the murder of their mistress. The director Jim Garrard’s version took the form of a midnight drag show, complete with waiters in gold jockstraps.
A while ago I asked Miss Aniela , to try to make a little project with me.
The results are beyond fantastic and I am so happy to present you two versions that we came up with - one made by Miss Aniela ( on Aniela's page ) and one mine (above).
It was pretty hard job we took on ourselves not knowing what picture the other side will provide, but I guess we briliant enough to manage even with such an obstacles ;) :D
I love Miss Aniela's photo, I still can't believe I gave her this certain shot, but I love the fun we had...and still having :))
Thank you Natalie! You are such a fantastic person to build ideas with! :D
OH! And happy Belated Birthday, missy! :D
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight, Lettice has been entertaining her two Embassy Club coterie friends, newly married couple Dickie and Margot Channon, whom she recently redecorated a few rooms of their Regency country retreat in Cornwall, ‘Chi an Treth’. The dinner has come to a pleasurable conclusion and the trio have withdrawn to Lettice’s drawing room, adjunct to the dining room, to enjoy a digestif* and continue their gossip, before going out around ten o’clock to the Embassy Club in Bond Street for more drinks and dancing well into the wee small hours of the morning with their other friends.
“Dickie daring, why don’t you play barman, since you enjoy it so much.” suggests Margot as they sit down, Lettice and Margot in the two white, luxuriously padded tub armchairs and Dickie on the Hepplewhite desk hair placed between them.
“As you wish, my love!” Dickie says cheerily. “Gin and tonics all round?”
Whilst Dickie goes to the black japanned drinks cabinet in the adjoining dining room and fetches three highball glasses, the soda siphon and a bottle of Gordon’s gin**, Lettice presses the servant’s call bell next to the fireplace, eliciting a soft buzzing that can be heard from the kitchen through the green baize door leading to the service part of the flat.
“Right!” Dickie says, returning with his arms full. “Gin, tonic water, three glasses,” he remarks as he puts the items down one by one on the low black japanned coffee table between the tub chairs. “Now all we need is…”
“Yes Miss?” Edith, Lettice’s maid, asks as she appears with perfect timing by her mistress’ side, dressed in her black dress and fancy lace trimmed apron, collars and cap that she wears as her evening uniform.
“What do you need, Dickie?” Lettice asks, deferring to her friend with an elegant sweep of her hand.
“Ahh, some ice in a bucket, tongs, a lemon and a knife if you can manage it, Edith old girl.” Dickie replies with a bright smile.
“Yes sir,” Edith replies, smiling brightly as she bobs a curtsey.
Returning a few minutes later with the items on a silver tray, just as Edith bobs another curtsey to her mistress and her guests, Margot pipes up, “Oh Edith!”
“I just wanted to let you know that Hilda is working out splendidly so far.” She smiles up at the maid, whose pretty face is framed by her lacy cap. “Thank you, Edith.”
“I’m pleased, Mrs. Channon. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you Edith.” Lettice replies with a smile and dismissing her maid with a gentle wave. “We won’t be here for too much longer. You can clean up the dining table after Mr. and Mrs. Channon and I have gone out to the club.”
The trio of friends sit in silence whilst they wait for Edith to retreat to the kitchen, Dickie quietly slicing the lemon with a small sharp silver handled knife.
“You do know that Edith probably already knows how her friend is faring, don’t you Margot darling?” Lettice says kindly.
“What?” Margot asks, here eyes widening like saucers. “How?”
Lettice laughs at her friend’s naivety. “You do give Hilda time off, don’t you?”
“Well of course I do, Lettice darling!” Margot defends herself, pressing her elegantly manicured hand to her chest where it presses against the gold flecked black bugle bead necklace she is wearing over her black evening dress. “I’m trying to be a model employer.”
“And what days did you give her off?”
“Well, she asked for Wednesdays, and Sundays free until four.”
Lettice smiles knowingly. “Just the same as Edith.”
When Margot’s look of confusion doesn’t lift, Dickie elucidates. “I think what Lettice is saying, my love, is that Hilda and Edith probably catch up on their days off, since the two have those in common.” He chuckles in an amused fashion as he pours gin over some ice in one of the highball glasses. “Really my love, you can be very naïve sometimes.”
“Do you think they talk about us?” Margot gasps.
“Margot darling, what servant doesn’t talk about their employer behind their back?” Dickie replies, depressing the release of the siphon, spraying carbolised tonic water into the glass. “That’s why it’s called servant’s gossip.”
“Well, I must be careful what I say around Hilda!” Margot replies, raising her hands to her flushed cheeks.
“I should think you would anyway.” her husband adds.
“I don’t think you have too much to worry about, Margot darling. If your Hilda is anything like Edith, the talk is more likely to be about the conditions she works in. I think Edith is more scanadalised by my life than genuinely interested in it. In fact, I think being the good chapel girl that she is, she is probably happier not to know what I get up to. Occasionally she might show an interest in one of my clients, like she did with Wanetta Ward the moving picture actress, but overall she’s just a shy young girl with her own life. She’s very discreet, and I’m sure your Hilda is too, Margot darling, so don’t worry too much.”
‘The joys of slum prudery***,” Dickie chuckles as he hands Lettice her digestif gin and tonic garnished by a slice of lemon. “You may not have to worry with Hilda, my love, but you’ll have to worry about the servants gossiping when you become the Marchioness of Taunton.” Dickie adds sagely, adding a good measure of gin to his wife’s glass as he prepares her drink. “My parents’ household staff thrive on any bit of gossip they can snaffle out. A single piece can keep them going for weeks. In fact I’m sure Mummy feeds them titbits of gossip just to keep them happily employed. My father might not be able to afford to pay them enormous wages, but Mummy makes up for it with morsels of gossip to amuse them all.”
“Well, thankfully I don’t have to worry about that yet,” Margot says. “I’m only just learning how to run a small household as it is. How on earth would I manage with a huge estate? I didn’t marry Dickie for his future title!”
“We know that. I’m sure you’ll be fine when the time comes, Margot darling.” Lettice soothes her friend assuringly, picking up the underlying sense of alarm in her voice. She takes a sip of her drink. “Bliss, Dickie!” she exclaims as the cool tartness of the gin and tonic reaches her tastebuds. “Thank you!”
“My pleasure, old girl!” Dickie replies as she goes about picking up ice cubes with the silver tongs and placing them in his and Margot’s highball glasses.
“Now, thinking of weddings, I must tell you about a most unusual occurrence, Margot darling.” Lettice continues, reaching down to the shelf beneath the surface of the table next to her on which she keeps the telephone. “I received this the other day in the post, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Lettice withdraws a postally franked envelope which she tosses onto the cover of her Vogue magazine sitting on the coffee table. Margot picks it up eagerly. She opens the already opened envelope and takes out an elegant card printed on thick paper featuring a champagne bottle buried amid a plethora of flowers on its front. Written in stylish lettering across the image in two banners are the words, wedding celebration.
“Oh, you received Priscilla’s wedding invitation!” Margot enthuses as she holds it in her lap. “I’m so pleased. Yes, we’re going too, if that was what you were going to ask.”
Dickie gives his wife a knowing look as he pours some gin into his highball glass, but says nothing.
“Well that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about as it happens.” Lettice replies. “I assumed that as we are all friends of Priscilla, that of course you would be attending her wedding to Georgie. No, it’s what’s inside that puzzled me.”
“Inside?” Margot queries, a cheeky smile curling up the corners of her mouth.
Dickie looks again at his wife as he adds a slug of extra gin to his own glass, but still says nothing.
“Yes!” Lettice says. “Take a look.”
Margot opens up the card and peruses it lightly before placing the card upright on the table between them, the cheeky smile broadening across her carefully painted lips, but says nothing.
Surprised, Lettice says, “The invitation is for me,” She pauses. “And a friend. Don’t you think that’s rather odd, even for Priscilla?” When Margot doesn’t reply, Lettice adds, “You don’t seem terribly surprised, Margot darling.”
Dickie squirts tonic into one glass. “Oh do stop being so coy, Margot. It doesn’t suit you tonight.” He sprays tonic irritably into the second glass. “Tell her!”
“Tell me what?” Lettice looks firstly at Dickie as he picks up a piece of lemon and places it on the lip of one of the highball glass, and then at Margot as she smiles back benignly at her.
“Me?” Margot asks, feigning innocence, raising her elegantly manicured hand to her throat where a blush starts to bloom.
“For pity’s sake, just own up and tell her!” Dickie hands her the prepared gin and tonic digestif.
“Well, I wish someone would tell me!” Lettice says a little irritated at being kept out of whatever the secret is.
When Margot says nothing, Dickie says as he picks up hie own glass. “It was Margot who arranged that.” He takes a sip of his drink, sighing with satisfaction.
“Well, it was me who organised it,” Margot admits coyly.
“You did?” Lettice’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Yes. When Priscilla was chatting to me about wedding invitations,” Margot continues with a self conscious chuckle as she starts toying with her beads again. “I simply suggested that, well with you and Selwyn getting along so well together, that she might like to leave an opening for you to invite him if you wished.”
“Oh Margot!” Lettice exclaims aghast, blushing red as she does.
“I say!” Margot’s eyes grow wide as she glances first at her stunned, red faced friend and then her husband, who wears a knowing look. “Have I dropped the tiniest of social briquettes?”
“Well, it was a little,” Dickie pauses, trying to think of the correct word.
“I did think it a little presumptuous, my love, when you told me.”
“Oh Lettice darling, I was only trying to help!” exclaims Margot, thrusting out her hands across the table to her friend, her face awash with anguish as she does. “Please don’t be cross with me! As I said, I just thought with you two getting along so well, you’d be sure to want to ask him. I haven’t done wrong, have I?”
Lettice doesn’t answer at first, taken aback by Dickie and Margot’s revelation. “Well, it was imprudent, Margot darling.” Lettice chastises her friend softly finally as she reaches out an takes Margot’s outstretched hands. “What if Selwyn and I had quarrelled? I would then have had to ask another gentleman of my acquaintance who isn’t invited to the wedding,” She pauses. “And as a jeune fille à marier****, that might have its own unwanted consequences.”
“I did try to warn you, my love,” Dickie says not unkindly to his wife. “But the deed was already done.”
“You haven’t quarrelled with him, have you?” Margot’s dark and frightened eyes scan Lettice’s face. “Selwyn that is.”
“No Margot darling.” Lettice assures her. “But what if I had?”
Lettice releases Margot’s hands as Dickie lifts up the highball glass of gin and tonic garnished with a lemon to his wife. She accepts it gratefully and takes more than a small and ladylike sip to calm her jangled nerves as she presses her hand to the cleft in her chest.
“Let this be a lesson to you about meddling in other people’s love lives, my darling.” Dickie says with a serious look to Margot. “I’m sure that poor Lettice and Spencely have more than enough meddling between Lady Sadie and Lady Zinnia.”
“Yes, Mamma tells me that marriages are made by mothers, not their children. There is plenty of meddling from Mater, Dickie darling, but I don’t actually think Lady Zinnia knows about Selwyn and I seeing one another socially.” Lettice says.
Dickie looks across at her doubtfully.
Settling back in her seat, cradling her digestif, Lettice continues, “Mind you, that will all be about to change.”
“How so, old girl?” Dickie queries as he sips his own gin and tonic.
“Because I did exactly what Margot hoped I would, and I invited Selwyn to Priscilla and Georgie’s wedding.”
Margot leans forward in her seat, her beads clattering together in in haste, her mouth hanging slightly open in sudden anticipation. “And did he say, yes?”
“Of course he did, Margot darling!” Lettice laughs lightly.
Margot quickly drops her highball glass onto the coffee table, narrowly missing sloshing some onto its black shiny surface. “Oh hoorah!” She claps her hands in delight, making the bangles on her arms jangle and beams at Lettice, who smiles back shyly, blushing a little as she does.
“If he’d said no, how else would Lady Zinnia know about he and I?” She doesn’t notice Dickie’s sage gaze towards her. “She’ll have to know after the wedding, as it will be in all the papers. Therefore, so will Selwyn and I.”
“That will be a social briquette to drop then.” remarks Dickie quietly.
“What do you mean, my love?” asks Margot.
“Because according to Mummy’s stories about Lady Zinnia, it is she who likes to make the society news, not read it.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, ‘And she likes to have her finger very firmly on all that happens in society’s upper echelons.” He cocks his eyebrow as he looks at Lettice. “She will be fit to be tied to find out through the tabloids that her son is seeing you and she didn’t even have the faintest whiff of it. Are you quite sure she doesn’t know about you and Spencely?”
“Oh quite, Dickie. We’ve not really seen anyone that we know when we have been out to luncheon, or dinner.”
“Or to that picnic in St. James’ Park.” Margot giggles girlishly.
“Oh pooh old Lady Zinnia and her grasp on gossip!” Margot says with a dismissive wave. “It’s Lettice and her happiness we care about.”
“I know,” mumbles Dickie half into his drink as he lifts it to his lips and swallows a bit of it, washing down any further thoughts about what Lady Zinnia’s reaction to finding out about Lettice and her son in such a public way might be.
*After dinner drinks are often referred to as digestifs. Digestif is actually the French word for “digestive,” meaning they are exactly what the name suggests: alcoholic beverages typically served after a meal to aid digestion.
**Gordon's London Dry Gin was developed by Alexander Gordon, a Londoner of Scots descent. He opened a distillery in the Southwark area in 1769, later moving in 1786 to Clerkenwell. The Special London Dry Gin he developed proved successful, and its recipe remains unchanged to this day. The top markets for Gordon's are (in descending order) the United Kingdom, the United States and Greece. Gordon's has been the United Kingdom’s number one gin since the late Nineteenth century. It is the world's best-selling London dry gin.
***After the excesses of the reign of William IV, Queen Victoria introduced a very middle-class morality with a focus on respectability to the British monarchy. As her people’s main influencer, the British became very prudish under her reign, and whilst affairs and the like were still not uncommon amongst the upper classes, the middle and lower classes became much more moralistic in the Nineteenth Century. In Queen Victoria’s slums, middle-class respectability and higher than average social morals were often seen as the only ways to escape a poor upbringing. Such attitudes were often called “slum prudery” by their upper-class social betters who had no need of such qualms because of their wealth and birthright allowing them access to society no matter what their behaviour.
****A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.
This upper-class Mayfair drawing room is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin, the syphon and the glasses are all 1:12 artisan miniatures. All are made of real glass, as is the green tinged glass comport on the coffee table in the foreground. The bottle of gin came from a specialist stockist in Sydney. The comport, the syphon and hors d‘oeuvres were all supplied by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The two empty highball glasses I have had since I was a teenager, when I acquired them from a specialist high street shop.
The postally franked envelope and the wedding invitation on the coffee table are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Mostly known for his miniature books, of which I have quite a large representation in my collection, Ken also made other items including letters and envelopes. To create something so small with such intricate detail really is quite extraordinary and a sign of artistry. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The vase of yellow roses on the Art Deco occasional table and the vase of red roses on the right-hand side of the mantlepiece are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a mode
Latin Percussion
Tranny Bbc In Leather Leggings Fuck Guy
Bad Holes