A true story by Ed ([email protected])
This was a 50s theme restaurant. The waitresses at this establishment wear a rather basic, standard, institutional-design uniform dress. It is a simple cotton (maybe perma), below-the-knee length, just a slight flare, and they button down the front - clear down the front - from the top button at the top closure (mid chest) all the way to the bottom hem. They are probably very practical for waitress work - easy care, easy to slip on/off, probably inexpensive (relatively) and they are very reminiscent of the 50s. The mood, atmosphere, and decor of the restaurant is very 'period', and for the most part, accurate. I recognize that the pinball machines are actually from the 70s, but I can handle that minor dIscrepancy. The girls commonly try to look '50s', to the extent they can in this dress. They tend to be a little eccentric, overdecorated with pins and badges, bright lipstick, sometimes wearing a slip which is intentionally made visible by some of the lower buttons not being engaged, and even an occasional bouffant petticoat. These are not the horizontal stick-out styles you see at square dances, but a more relaxed, sometimes longer length style, with assorted fullness represented, often too long for the dress, presenting a very visible layer of froth at the hem. You get the picture...
This particular incident occurred one morning at breakfast - one morning when I, for one reason or another, went there by myself. I had noticed one particular waitress on several previous visits. She had not been there long, and had what I'd call a 'permanent frown' – almost at the verge of being unattractive, but with an underlying cuteness that made me glance at her every chance I got. Until recently, she had worn only the simple uniform dress, looking very plain, like she was just learning her way around. Her name was Angel.
This particular morning, I strolled into this establishment, hoping to see a ruffle or two here and there. It certainly wasn’t unusual to see a bit of froth, but then too, it wasn’t too unusual NOT to see anything. I entered, glanced around, and visually checked all the waitresses for frou-frou, and seeing nothing to get excited about, found a seat to my liking. Then here comes Poopsie (another waitress). She commonly wore a nice white frothy petticoat, so it was a pleasant surprise to see her. Someone came over with a glass of water, and informed me that someone (else) would be with me shortly. So, with nothing much else to do for a few minutes, I settled, took my coat off, took a deep breath, and glanced around the room at photo and posters of Elvis, The Fonz, and similar people from the era. Then I saw Angel .... THE Angel .... and for the first time (known to me) she’d chosen to join the fashion crowd here, and put a black petticoat under that plain institutional waitress dress. It wasn’t over-full, I’d say a 35 yard or so – black fine nylon net, with some kind of shiny, metallic looking rick-rack around the bottom two inches or so. I couldn’t tell whether it was gold or silver colored. I’d guess, two layers. (Isn’t it surprising how quickly a seasoned petticoat connoisseur can identify these things!) But details didn’t matter. It was a real petticoat, on a real gal, and her whole image was transformed to something totally incredible. Pretty, yes. She’d acquired enough experience and confidence that she now appeared much more secure and assertive about her job. But she still had that ‘frown’. I couldn’t tell what that was all about, we had no direct communication really, but I had a feeling something was really keeping this girl from being as happy as she might be. So, I ate, tipped, stood, took one more glance at Angel’s petticoat, and departed.
A couple of weeks or so later, I returned once again for breakfast, and went through much the same routine ... greeted at the door, asked how many guests, smoking/non-smoking, table/booth ... you know the drill. Looked around ... and around ... and around ... YES! There’s Angel. Complete with black froth. But this time was different. I was seated, went through the normal arrival preparations, and thought about the menu. The SHE walked up. The ANGEL herself - and began to speak. Just normal stuff, "Hello, how are ya, what can I getcha today" type of chat. Of course I couldn’t think about anything but that black petticoat. Most of it was under the table at that moment, but I knew it was there. I could catch a glimpse of part of it beneath her apron. The thought went through my mind, "Three ruffles over easy and a slab of lace on the side." I contained myself and ordered the special, scrambled. She wrote up the order, and submitted it for appropriate processing, while I scanned the rest of the crew for similar attire. Well, there might have been a long straight slip on one, and something suggestive of the 50s on another one, but Angel was definitely the highlight of this visit.
So a few minutes later, here she comes swingin’ a plate, bouncin’ up to my table, swishin’ that petticoat around, and delivers the ‘special’. Somehow, the food didn’t really grab my attention, but I forced my eyes away from her skirt long enough to thank her, and make some other off-the-wall chit-chat comment about the day. I have absolutely no idea how we came around to this, but after exchanging a word or two, something was said, in a joking manner, about me possibly coming to work there. Realistically, no chance – I had a job, and the topic it wasn’t taken seriously – I thought. She remarked, "Would you like to work here and wear stuff like this?" indicating her dress, apron and petticoat. Immediately, silently again I thought – "Well, no – but I sure like seein’ YOU wear it." .... didn’t say that, of course. But I asked her, "Where do you gals find that stuff?" She said they find it all over, here and there, yard sales, costume shops, thrift shops, etc., ... several different sources. Then she explained, "I found this one down at the so-and-so costume shop for five bucks. She reached down and crunched the front together with her hands, and lifted it up for me to see. "Isn’t it pretty?" Wow. Of course drool, drool .... She said, "It was filthy when I got it, it must have been in someone’s attic for years. When I washed it, the water just came out all yucky and dirty lookin’, but it sure fluffed up nice, didn’t it?" How do you answer a question that’s so obvious? YES it did – and I’m sure glad you washed it, because whatever was in that thing, I don’t think I want it sprinkled all over my eggs! But it was clean – nice, soft, with just a slight bit of ‘crunch’ you could hear when she brought it all together. All of a sudden, I looked up and her whole face kinda lit-up. She actually looked happy. Oh, she still had that sorta strange look to her eyebrows, and her teeth still weren’t straight, but she was really enjoyin’ this little conversation, and she actually looked very pretty. But then, as I’ve noted elsewhere, a good petticoat shot automatically improves a girls rating by 12 or so points, on a scale of 10! She showed me the metallic rick-rack, and both layers of skirt – then the line cook called out that she had some food to pick up. She released all this fluff, straightened it out and went back to work. I watched her work the area, leaning part-way into the booths, to clean the back part of the table, and displaying more nice views, up the back side of her skirt – nothing distastefull, just white legs out of a black petticoat.
I finished breakfast – I think. At least, I paid, and left. Breakfast was the last thing on my mind at that point. She waved ‘bye’ and we both went on with the day. I tipped her double that day. I thought at least I could help pay for that petticoat.
During my next several visits, I couldn’t help but anticipate the same event re-occurring, but of course realized that THAT wouldn’t happen again. Is there a way I could get her to do it again??? Is there a way I could arrange to have a video camera in operation if this happens again? No such luck, of course. But I also noticed that I didn’t see Angel. One or two times might be coincident. But over several weeks, she just wasn’t to be seen. I finally asked someone, and was informed that Angel had gone back to Texas, to be with her mother. Bummer. Took her petticoat and went home to mamma. Double bummer. Then they explained that Angel had been through a bad marriage, and her mother was very ill, and wasn’t expected to live very long. With this, I dropped all hopes of ever seeing her or that black petticoat again. Sick mother, and now divorced from the bum – why would she come back here? Really felt sorry for the gal, as well as for myself.
Weeks went by. She didn’t return. The food didn’t seem as good. Almost quit going there. Some of the other girls wore some froth from time to time, but never put on a show like Angel. More weeks went by. Then one day she was back. Standard attire, but she was back. I considered that maybe that black petticoat had been discarded along the way, but didn’t ask. I just observed. On occasion, she’d wait on me. She seemed to be better adjusted to things – I assumed, perhaps her mother had died, and that phase of Angel’s life was over. She could ‘get on with it’ now, so to speak. We exchanged chit-chat every week or so as she delivered breakfast to me, and possible a guest who had come along. (I never explained the petticoat thing to this guest! He probably thought they were silly .... idiot!)
Then the restaurant closed for remodeling. It seemed like weeks went by again, but it was probably less than a month. They really cleaned the place up – not that it was dirty, but it needed paint, some little stuff here-and-there, new bathroom fixtures, etc. And they opened again. Things seemed different. I didn’t notice any more petticoats. Most of everything else was much the same, but it didn’t seem like ANY of the gals were wearing the full petticoats any more. I didn’t ask, just watched. I saw long straight slips, and other lose, somewhat fluffy underskirts, but no petticoats. Angel was there, but now seemed to wear only the traditional normal skirt. She waved occasionally, but somehow I didn’t seem to draw her section for several weeks. I surmised that perhaps the management had suggested that these things not be worn any more because of the inconvenience and size factor. I could understand management doing that – which is not saying I agreed with it. Anyway, no petticoats were seen for quite awhile.
Just last week, I once again paid a visit to this establishment, and what a surprise I got – Angel was there, and she had on that big black petticoat again. She waited on us. But no skirt show this time. But it was nice. I continued to sneak glimpses as she bussed the tables, trying to see every stitch around the lace edge of that petticoat as it gently brushed her legs. Sure enough, that rick-rack was silver, not gold. And that same little string hung down, that so many petticoats have. Why don’t they ever cut those things off??? But it was wonderful.
I think I had breakfast. What I DO know, is that once again, I saw an Angel in a Black Petticoat.
EPILOGUE
I went out for breakfast again this morning, down to where the 'Angel' works. Didn't see her at all for quite awhile, but then she appeared. I wasn't in her section. After a bit, my eyes just happened to be directed to just the right spot at just the right moment - she had her back to me, about 25 feet away; she bent over forward (away from me) to pick up something off the floor, I think. Now this was no high-society lady-like dip with the knees together either - this was a real eye-opening, feet-spread- apart, knees only barely bent, full rear-end squat shot. That black petticoat poufed up real nice during the quick ordeal. Beautiful. Didn't see anything disgusting, of course, but it sure was a nice desert for an otherwise routine breakfast. Later, as I was preparing to leave, she caught my eye, and flashed a pleasant smile, and a short wave of recognition. I'm sure she had no idea of the overall effect.