When I was a child, I sometimes visited my Aunt Rita. She was my godmother and because of this I was afforded special privileges. One of the most enjoyable was playing in her closet. It was crammed with shoes and clothing I knew she would outgrow shortly.

Rita would buy her clothing about three sizes smaller than she wore and would wear an item at least once to prove she could wear that size. This always made me a happy camper because I knew it would soon be mine.

Getting into the much-too-small clothing required that she squeeze her body into three rubber Playtex girdles. These were the ones that had small holes in them so the skin could breathe. We would struggle with those girdles until her face was red and sweat poured down her body. By then, it was impossible to pull the girdles up where she said. She wore a bra that went down over her hips and the girdles.

After all of this, I would shove the flesh down from her large breasts and tuck as much loose flesh from her legs as possible up under the girdles. After all of this, a Scarlett O’Hara she wasn’t.

Aunt Rita could barely walk with all of this paraphernalia, but she would go to work and tell all her co-workers, “Look how much weight I’ve lost! I’m in a size eight. Look at the tag!” as she would turn around and pull it out for them to see. Sadly, I used to watch them laugh behind her back when I was allowed at work with her.

It didn’t seem to bother her that her feet were larger than average, and it is a wonder that I didn’t fall and break a leg playing in those gunboats, but seldom do little girls fall when they are playing grown-up.

My favorite pair was the black patent leather ones. Rita would always whisper to me, “Now don’t take them outside where anyone can see them.”

I asked her why, one day, and she told me, “Only colored people are allowed to wear black patent leather, and HUSSIES are all who wear straps like those.”

I only knew a few colored people, but one man was my favorite person. He worked for another aunt, and sometimes he would play like he was Bo Jangles and dance up a storm in his black patent leather shoes with the big steel taps on them. I always thought he should be in the movies.

I played with those hussy shoes for years until they actually fit me. I knew that Rita had been wearing them but she would never talk about it. It surely must have been out of town because the family would have laughed her silly if they had ever seen her in them.

Those shoes were all straps, little tiny ones that wrapped around the ankles. The heels were spiked and high.

During the years while I was growing up, it gave Rita great pleasure trying to teach me how to be and act like a lady. She taught me all the social graces: how to dance, dine properly, how to dress, how to speak, and which people to hang out with. I guess she succeeded because I turned out pretty good. I appreciated all of this.

In spite of everything, I did grow up and become a likable person. I was socially accepted and busy during my high school years. There were many occasions where I was to be formally dressed and Rita was always the first one to my rescue.

On one such event, when I was a senior in high school, I was invited to a formal tea being given by a friend of Rita. She insisted I go even though I did not want to.

She had picked out and bought me a beautiful pink dress that I loved and a pair of black shoes I hated. As soon as I could, I went into her closet and put the hussy shoes in a brown paper bag and slipped them out in the car, where I hid them under the seat.

The big day finally came. I was dressed up in my frilly pink frock and those ugly black shoes she had so carefully picked out.

Rita drove me there. While she was not paying any attention, I put the bag with the shoes under my coat.

When she let me off, I went straight to the restroom to change my shoes. Those hussy shoes were noticed immediately. Everyone was stating at them and finally someone asked me where I had bought them. The girls were sincere, not sarcastic as I had first thought. I told them that my aunt had bought them and I didn’t know where.

When all of the formalities were over, there were a lot of pretty young girls bored to death. As with any occasion, some of us thought it was time for the boys to break into this shindig. The tea would be a good time ball in spite of the society dames who had so carefully maneuvered it. All of a sudden, the doors opened up and a whole lot of guys appeared with stereos and music. My hussy shoes were all over the dance floor and ended up being the talk of the tea I had dreaded so much.