The Liberated Lady

   "Please do come in and sit down. No, not at this chair. NEVER at this chair!!”

    Her sharp voice at the end of her sentence, frightened me a little. Just a little and not enough to leave her house so I sat down at the nearest available chair and looked in astonishment to the one I was not allowed to sit at.

    “Well my dear, you are definitely one of the very view that stay but not the only one with that same look on your face. And I am not going to apologize for the state the house is in.”

    Her voice lost the sharp edges of a minute ago and now sounded very thin, I almost expected it to disappear but she spoke again: “I hope you brought your own beverage, I do not want to poison you with the left tea leaves or coffee beans, let alone offering you a piece of cake!”

    The way she said it, caused me a few negative goose bumps but I did not show it to her, afraid she was going to take advantage of my sudden fear. I said that I indeed had a water bottle in my rucksack but not being thirsty at the moment. She nodded in agreement and watched me; my eyes wandering off to that particular chair next to the old fireplace that once had a bright yellow colour.

    “I know what you are thinking... you ask yourself what that thing is doing here in the kitchen” and I knew she was not talking about the chair. I could only agree but the word 'yes' got stuck in my throat. She noticed this and suddenly laughed. A laugh that scared me almost to death and it was difficult not to move, to hold on to my chair or even run as fast as I could. I am not known to be scared easily but right now I was.

    As suddenly as her laugh started, it stopped and she moved through the room. I watched her and hoped she kept in sight.

“Don't be scared, I am not going to hurt or kill you. It is not your time yet.”
I was not sure if this was a reassurance and did not dare to ask when it was my time, afraid for the answer.

    “Let me tell you a story, please relax.”, she said and stopped moving right in front of me but without reach although I did not have the desire to touch her.

I tried to relax and listened to the following story:

    “I was born in a time and family were women needed to be very slim and beautiful. We were taught manners, how to have intelligent conversations, learned to dance and to serve tea. My father was a rich man and a wool merchandiser. He bought a large estate and although the many restrictions, I had a very pleasant childhood. We travelled to other countries and I went to a school in Switzerland to become a real lady. And this was the time I got my first Corset. I had seen one in Mummy's bedroom and knew it was used to shape her body but never knew it also was a torture to wear it; Mummy never complained.

    In those days you did not complain, at least not openly and not in front of your children. Of course I don't know if Mummy ever complained to Daddy in the thrifty moments he stayed in her bedroom. And you need to know that Corsets were highly fashionable those days. It was only until I got married that I learned that men thought of the torture garment as being very sexy. That is why I understood the black and white photo's I found in a secretly hidden box in the wardrobe after Daddy passed away. No, I was not shocked, I am not an old spinster!”

    Her voice faded when she recalled these memories and I had difficulties understanding her. I moved a little to attract her attention. I agree being very curious; this was a women who did not mind talking about the more intimate details and I was more than willing to learn a little history first hand. I watched the smile on her face when she noticed my curiosity.

    “I like you” she said. “I really like you and continue my story before I decide to let you go or take you with me. I know I said it is not your time yet but I can change my mind, can't I?” She laughed; a shivering high sound that died in sudden stillness. I did not dare to move again.

   “I married at the age of 20 with a man who at the time, was also attracted by my dowry and status. Fortunately for him I was beautiful and I was happy he was quite handsome but also knew about his reputation with women, something my parents preferred to neglect.

    Of course I heard stories about the wedding night and they varied in emotions from 'disgusting', 'a duty not a pleasure' to 'heavenly' and 'exciting'.

I have to give all credits to the experienced skills of my husband that my wedding night was the latter. And it was the first exciting night of many to follow. He taught me to feel and to be sexy. He bought me flowers and presents, he openly showed his deep affection for me and herewith upset the women he made love to in the past.

    These women who were at first kind to me as if they felt sorry, now tried to patronize me and some got very rude, spreading rumours about my husband being unfaithful.

He and I laughed about it, we knew much better. We spent all nights in the same bed and sleeping was not the only thing we did!”

    The smile on her face was a surprise and I almost forgot that horrible laugh I heard earlier. I now saw the young women that was deeply in love with her husband and who was treasured and loved by him in return. Her whole face changed and her eyes, first as cold and sharp as icicles, shone bright and warm.

    “And you know what was our favourite garment? Of course you know, you are an intelligent girl. Indeed, it was the Corset. But not the one my mother bought me. No, he bought me very beautiful ones in different colours; red with black lace, or white with pink lace. Even completely black, almost like leather. Instead of being tortured by tight strings and baleens, I was spoiled with soft materials that more became a toy than a necessity to be in line with the current fashion.”

    Her voice faded again and she looked up to the ceiling. I sat very still, I wanted to know the ending. She turned her eyes to me. Her smile was nice and warm which caused a glow round her whole body.

   “I lived in a time that the word 'emancipation' was not a descent word or even existed. You modern women think that we were slavish and unobtrusive but this we had in our owns hands. I learned to handle it and above all to use it. What looks like a Corset in life is not always what you think it is. It is your choice to pull the strings as tight as possible or to loosen them and to form the baleens your way.

    I can say in all honesty the Corset was my liberation form the Victorian rules and traditions. And therefore I keep my very first one in sight, at the chair near the fireplace. Two symbols of the flames in my marriage and freedom!!”

Photo: @lotjeurbex (Instagram)

    Liberation!!! Liberation.......
I clearly heard the words, loud and out of place in a house that was decaying. Suddenly the words were gone as was the old lady.
When I entered the abandoned villa, it was very cold and I could feel the cold right through my thick quilted coat and warm gloves. The smell of decay was very present and the chaos covered in dust enormous.

    But now it felt warm and comfortable as if there was a little flame burning inside me. The items around me suddenly had a meaning and I realized more than ever that they once belonged to a living person who knew love, who lived a real life.

   I smiled, took my rucksack, blew a kiss to the ghost of the old lady and walked out the door.

Word of thanks: the photo of @lotjeurbex (Instagram) inspired me to write this story and I was given permission to use the photo as an illustration for which I am very grateful. Thank you Lieselotte!

Links: please visit the beautiful Instagram Account of @lotjeurbex and her impressive Facebook Account.

Note: the story is pure fiction! A figment of my imagination!

Helen