Miss AP's Diary

The Classics

The Classics

That awkward moment when your boss announces to the whole office that she’d ‘turn lesbian’ for you.

Pardon?

It’s a little off colour. A touch unprofessional. But is it inappropriate? Not when you’ve had the gumption to wear your Mercy skirt (no tights) into work in a fashion office. Wear that and you might as well be bare breasted with nothing but a sparkly banana skin to cover your modesty.

That’s the effect of The Classics. They’re classics because they work. Time and again, they evoke a stunned response from those around you lucky enough to catch a glimpse. I should know, I’ve tried and tested every last one of them.

Want to be spanked? Wear the Cendrillon and undress with your back to him (or her). (or them).

Want to be lavished with champagne and diamonds? Wear the Mercy corset and skirt to drink espresso martinis in a hotel bar.

Want to be remembered forever? Wear the Birthday Suit playsuit as a surprise for a special occasion.

Want to get married? Wear the Love set in white, and hand over your knickers.

Want to rule the world (or even just the bedroom)? Wear the Bullet playsuit and wield a crystal whip with intent.

You can mix and match any of the above to create permutations and combinations of thrilling situations. My personal collection of Classics has seen too many stories to recount here. They’re like that well-thumbed copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey that I always turn to; the Fleetwood Mac Rumours vinyl that’s worn down with use. They’re the truffle oil on my linguine, the Aperol in my Spritz.  My lifetime partners-in-crime, they’ve stood the test of time and each time I take them out, I know they’ll give me exactly what I want.

Except, perhaps, my boss turning lesbian for me. Doing that a second time would have been too much, even for me.