Dear Nanny Susan,

I saw your announcement that a new magazine, extolling the virtues and benefits of putting boys who misbehave into girls' petticoats and pinafores, was about to begin, and I am writing to the address given to give you the benefit of my own experiences. Let me say first that I am a woman of 69 years, and I am thoroughly enjoying the modern wonders of computers, especially since I now live alone. The Internet really keeps me in touch with the rest of the world.

This all happened in about 1961-62. My son Peter was 11 years old, and was at a boisterous stage when he was proving much harder to discipline in the home. I suppose things came to a head when I found him lifting the skirts of the little 7 year old girl next door, and calling her a baby, because she still wet sometimes and had to wear training panties which were rubber on the outside.

When I found them the little girl was in tears, and my brave son quickly put his hands behind his back and looked as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But I had heard enough, and took him inside and scolded him, telling him not to be such a bully. However he just smiled, nodded his head, and ran away, and I don't think he really took any notice.

The next weekend I was feeling tired, and visited a rather austere aunt of mine, and told her the trouble I was having with my son. It was she who told me about petticoating. She said that it was much used in the past, that, in fact, a number of important people had been forced to endure it as children, and that it never failed, something that she pointed out with a certain amount of gloating pleasure, I thought.

I waited till the weekend after that, when my aunt could drop around to give me a hand. We told my son that we were going to teach him a lesson for teasing little Pamela, and since he had teased her, we had decided to turn him into a little baby girl for her enjoyment. He went white but we dragged him out to the bus stop and headed for the shops. I don't think he really understood at that stage what we were going to do, but he fought and pulled back as we dragged him into a girls' and infants' clothing shop.

Of course he had never been in such a place before, and the poor darling simply didn't know where to put himself. All he could do was stare at the floor, his face as red as a beetroot, while Aunt Claire and I looked around. It was a lovely shop that made me wish I had had a daughter instead of a son, with some very fancy dresses for going to church or to parties; frilled petticoats in white, pink, powder blue, and peach; lacy, ribbon-trimmed knickers in girlish colours, and displays of baby clothes, cot blankets, bassinette covers etc. as well.

I didn't actually hold up the clothes against him, as I didn't know what the woman serving might think if it was exposed that he was the 'girl'. However my aunt made him hold some of the petticoats and panties. He was in a state of shock, and tried to shake his head at first, but dumbly obeyed when Claire whispered that otherwise we would tell the woman behind the counter that the clothes were for him. 'Don't they feel lovely, Peter?' she gushed.

She was a buxom, friendly-looking lady, and I think she might have guessed, especially since Peter could not stop himself from blushing furiously. We bought two petticoats, a white one, and a blue one with three tiers of flounces which I thought looked lovely. Both had bodices and shoulder straps, as I believe proper petticoats for little girls should have. Also some really luscious knickers a couple of sizes too big for him (I wanted there to be plenty of room in them), a nice cotton frock with a lace-trimmed bib front, and a few pairs of tights and socks.

The woman serving began to unroll some brown paper, but then asked if we would like the things gift wrapped. I said yes, and with a smile she wrapped the things in tissue paper and very pretty white gift wrapping with little pink flowers on it. I told Peter he could carry the parcels, and as we left the lady gave us a wave and a broad wink, although Peter didn't see it, as he was too ashamed to look around as we left. Anyway, our shopping expedition was far from over.

Next it was to the Manchester department of a big store, where we looked until we found some thick soft towelling, and bought several yards. I am sure Peter knew what we had in mind, and he was just dumbfounded. Then to a large chemist's, where we found some incontinence pants that would fit him. They were plain white, but of course his oversized girls' underpants would fit very well over them. We also made him buy a pink dummy in the largest size, some pink nappy pins, and a baby's rubber nippled nursing bottle. He nearly died when he had to ask for the dummy, especially when the girl asked him what colour he wanted. Lastly, he had to buy some bars of lavender-scented soap.

He was as quiet as a mouse on the ride home, and hugged his new parcels tightly so that they were concealed as much as possible. We moved things around so that his chest of drawers had a full-width empty drawer, and he was informed that this was to be his 'petticoat drawer'. As we stood over him he was made to unwrap each parcel carefully, hold the pretty garments to his cheek to feel their softness, and then fold them very carefully and delicately and place them in the drawer. Lastly he was told that nice little girls put some fragrant-smelling soap in with their undies, and so he had to unwrap the lavender soap, and put that amongst his new garments as well.

His dress was put on a velvet coat hanger and put at the back of his wardrobe. I kept the length of towelling, and with the help of my Singer soon had made up some soft thick nappies which would be just right for him. A few days later these were put in the drawer with the other things.

The mere thought of these clothes was enough to completely overcome his boyish rebelliousness and teasing, and I even managed to make him apologise to the little girl next door, in a most deferential fashion. My aunt had been right: just the very thought of petticoating was enough to change his character overnight. I wondered whether he ever opened the drawer to look at his new things, so when he was out one day I stuck a hair over the side of the drawer, a trick I had seen in a film of about that time. Sure enough, he had been opening the drawer, and I realised later that the thought of petticoat punishment can have an enthralling effect on a young boy.

Anyway, I will close for now. All the best for your magazine, it is a wonderful idea, and I may write again if it proves successful.

Mrs Margaret F. (York)

Yes, please do write and tell us more! Of course petticoat discipline need hardly involve actual dressing. Boys and men at any age are inevitable self-conscious and embarrassed if they find themselves in the ladies' lingerie section of a large shop, or amongst all the frills and bows in any small shop specialising in girls' and babies' wear. Just taking them to such shops, as you have, and making them actually feel the pretties on display, is enough to make any male, man or boy, flush with mortification, especially as it is all so public.
I am sure our readers would like another letter. Were the clothes actually put to good effect, or was the mere threat that they represented enough to calm him down, and improve his manners with little girls?

Susan