Dear Miss MacDonald,

I was recommended 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' by a friend, and let me offer you my very best wishes for this really great publication. I am a male of 71 years of age, and these days I am more or less confined to an aged people's home after a mild stroke. A relative bought me a computer, and it has really been a great boon, because I do suffer from fits of depression. The thing that has really helped me is finding your magazine, it has changed my mood completely, and I really must thank you for that.

I grew up in Georgia during the great depression, and my father had to travel west to find work. My mother was left with the care of me and my sister, who was two years older. Because she couldn't really afford new clothes, I had to make do with my sister's hand-me-downs, from an early age. My mother did go to some trouble to see that she always looked as nice as possible, especially for church on Sundays, and so she did sew lace onto her dresses and underwear, so that it looked as pretty as a little girl's should. My sister's 'Sunday Best' was not worn as much as her ordinary clothes, and it was these more elaborate items of clothing that I seemed to inherit.

I really think that my mother preferred girls to boys, and I can say that she bought my sister more things, and treated her better, than she did me. So she was so happy to see me dressed in really fussy dresses and a petticoat, and for me to have my naturally curly hair long. I still have a few old photographs that show what I looked like, although it would be hard to tell that I was really a boy.

My dear sister didn't tease me, rather she protected me, because we lived in a small town, and the other children often laughed at me and called me 'Sissy' in the street. I grew to love my sister and to really respect and worship girls, because to me they were always superior to the boys. On Sundays I was really done up, and I must have looked a picture. I had to go to church between my mother and sister, holding a hand of each, even though I later grew to be taller than her.

The depression was followed pretty closely by the war, and there were clothing restrictions. My mother by now liked me to be as nice-looking as possible, and so she mended clothes cast off by other families, and I always wore frocks with little puffy sleeves, even while my sister wore the sleeveless dresses that girls wore then to save fabric. I was too young to go to the war, which ended when I had just turned 17. Afterwards things got better, but I was too dependent on my dresses and petticoats to ever give them up. I was kept in frilled panties, petticoats, and dresses after work, and I had grown to love and need them, because I had known for years that my mother loved me more when I was wearing them.

When I met Mary and started to see a bit of her, I had to take her home to meet my mother. Mary was told about my petticoating at home, but she got on well with my mother, and believed that a woman should 'wear the trousers' at home anyway (I think that this was partly what attracted me to her) and so she said that this practice would continue after we were married. I even wore satin panties at my wedding which my mother made for me.

Ours was a very happy marriage, and you are so right when you say that when the woman rules the roost and understands her husband's needs of dependence and discipline then the marriage will be more enduring. I was blissfully happy throughout the 1950s, I had a secure job, and as soon as I got home at night Mary ordered me into my full-skirted dress, underwear, full length apron, and stockings held up by tight garters or a suspender belt. She always liked me to wear a small but tight corset, as she felt that this made me more obedient. It wasn't necessary of course, but I loved it. If I answered her back she would make me wear thick lisle cotton knit tights to work as a punishment, which could be very uncomfortable, especially in warmer weather.

I never drank or smoked, which was my mother's good influence, and I spent the evening doing housework, and slept in nightdresses at night. In the mid 1960s we did have a daughter, and so my petticoats had to be curtailed somewhat, but Mary always made sure I was prettily pantied, even at work. Mary passed on three years ago, and it was the saddest moment of my life. Still I made sure I remained true to her and mother by continuing to wear my women's domestic clothes and always keeping the house spotless. I would still be doing it now, but I suffered a stroke last year, as I have told you.

Well there you are, I had better stop there. I wish so much that I could wear panties and old-fashioned lace-trimmed bloomers again, but I can't where I am. But if I could find a strong, loving woman who believed in strict family discipline, even for an elderly widower, then I would marry her tomorrow. In the meantime, I have 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly' to keep me going. It really is a special ray of sunshine, and I only wish it could become more widely known.

Theodore J. (Atlanta, USA)

This is a very touching letter, which I received only a week or so ago. It is very saddening when a man who has become used to the secure happiness of petticoat discipline loses his beloved partner. What an absolute treasure his Mary sounds!

At least this magazine has given Mr J. some happiness. However, it is unfortunate that the place he is in would not tolerate his particular needs. Still, one should never abandon hope, and perhaps he will  find the woman he is longing for – I have certainly known happy marriages to take place when one of the partners was in their 70s.

Were any other readers petticoated partly because of economic circumstances? I know it was not uncommon in Scotland during the years of austerity after the war.
Susan