The Cocktail Bar

Memoirs of Evenings Past


NOTE: This conversation runs backwards! For the benefit of regular readers the newest comments are put at the top.

Ellhedrine to Miss Barbara

This really is just about the most exciting moment of my life. Just the most delightful brunette in the entire bar has come to sit by me. Of course you may, dear Miss Barbara. I hardly know what to say!

Did you think I was fiddling with my cigarette holder? Well, yes, I suppose I was fiddling really, though I had hoped to look a little more sophisticated than that, but I know I could not deceive a brunette of the world like you. I shall not even try. Would you be so very kind as to light my cigarette?

And I can only be as I am for a little while, you say. How you frighten me! dark shadows seem to close in even as you speak; yet I cannot feel really afraid with you mounting so very elegantly the Art Deco bar stool next to me (so elegantly that I cannot be certain that you are wearing a cream silk slip with several ruffles of lace, even though the conveyance of such information, whether willingly or unwillingly, is - I am sure - the cunningly-wrought purpose of these ingenious stools). You give one a feeling of comfort and security, as if all the world was safe and kind and I feel almost more at home here than - well, at home.

My, how I do run on. I feel as if I had taken several cocktails already, though in truth I have not. Tell me you are really there, Miss Barbara, and not just a dream.

Note to Justine from the Management

Dear Justine, we should be happy to send you a password, but the address on your Elektrapost seems inordinately long and does not work. Can you tell us how to communicate with you?

What is A Fountain of Youth?

I notice Justine has just bought our Mistress of Ceremonies a Fountain of Youth. I am tempted to try one myself, but - yes, I'll bite - what is a Fountain of Youth? SUSAN

You cannot bite it, dear Susan, you must drink it. The Fountain of Youth owes its name to a Trentish song entitled "The Babes in the Wood", which tells the storie of two destitute blonde orphans in the wood, who were rescued and given all sorts of delightful things such as:

Too many cars, too many clothes,
Too many parties and too many beaux.

[Textual critics surmise that beau is a synonym for a brunette] until in the end:

The whole town agreed
That the last word in speed
Was the two little babes in the wood.

Well, on their way to this fate-better-than-death, the babes make an historic discovery which is crystallised for posterity in the immortal lines:

And they found that the Fountain of Youth
Was a mixture of gin and vermouth.

And so it is. The blonde versh involves equal parts of gin, vermouth and sugar syrup, 'cause blondes like them sweet. Incidentally, the text, you will note, seems to imply a rather odd pronunciation of the word vermouth. I don't know how you pettes pronounce it, but here in Yvyanne it is generally pronounced VARm'th (with the accent on the first silly).

Influx of Lovely Blondes

My. What a flurry of activity here in the Cocktail bar. Thank you, Justine, for the martini. And what IS this influx of lovely blondes? What an exciting evening for all of us regulars. I am in a tizzy over whom to approach, to strike up a bit of chit chat with, etc. I believe I shall approach that delightfully innocent one over there, fiddling with her mummie's cigarette holder. There is a REAL blonde; so many blondes have worked so hard on their blondeness for years, trying to achieve just a tad more innocence, just a bit more of that unspeakable ingenue quality we all so adore. But only for a while can a blonde be a blonde without even trying. So, Dear Ellhedrine, may I have this seat, next to yours?

Most Sincerely

A New Blonde Enters

My name is Ellhedrine, named after the noble spouse of Princess Merevendra in the heroic days of old, although in fact I was born in a semi-detached suburban house in the east of Quirinelle, and have lived there all my life. I have just discovered this Cocktail Bar and have lurked through the windows every day for the past week or so, wondering if I should ever dare pluck up the courage to come in - and now I have. I have crept self-consciously to the bar, fearing that all eyes would be on me (though now I am here I suspect they are not). I have managed to get myself up onto one of those chrome and black bar stools without making too ungainly a display of my black-lace-edged pink slip and now I have crossed my legs demurely, wondering whether it looks too - well, just too - for a blonde to come here on her own like this. Should I hope some one will buy me a drink? Should I buy my own? Should I try to smoke a cigarette (I have borrowed a lovely long cigarette holder from my blonde Mummie, though she doesn't exactly know I have borrowed it)?. Shall I count to twenty and quietly creep out again and hope no one has noticed me? Or is that brunette over there about to day hello?
Shaking with stage-fright.

Miss Barbara Pays Her Respects

Oh My. Imagine my surprise when I entered this fine establishment and did not find she who has so captivated me all of these evenings, but instead found the notice of her unseemly downfall. Of course I will send roses. Of course they will be pink. I DO feel a touch responsible. If I hadn't mentioned the Sanctum, if I hadn't sparked her interest, if I hadn't been so quick to vocalize my own regret and shame over visiting . . . but I did all of these things and now dear, sweet, innocent (or should I say formerly innocent) Ariadne is having to take the cure. I do hope the accommodations at least are lovely and that she has as many brunettes swarming around her there as she does here.

I am in such a state over all of this. May I please have a gimlet, Dear Bar Maid, in her honor?

Ariadne Writes from Nether Mynton

Dearest Pettes,

My apologies for being absent from the Aphrodite Cocktail Bar these last several days; you may have heard that I was suddenly taken ill while visiting the Inner Sanctum.

The doctors here at St. Yvyanne's have counseled me not to speak of my unfortunate visit with anyone except the staff here. Apparently Dr. Edythe has already contacted the Cocktail Bar Management about the incident. She was somewhat concerned that blondes like me are ever allowed even near the Inner Sanctum. Naturally, I accept full responsibility -- to the extent that my innate blonde diminished capacity allows. I was, after all, amply warned by Miss Barbara, whose insightful review of the Inner Sanctum you all must have heard about by now.

The clinic seems to be a branch of the Aristasian Embassy: the entire St. Yvyanne staff are polished brunettes, doctors and sisters alike. The doctors all favor high Quirinelle fashion; the sisters wear their time-honored Nightingale uniforms of long gingham skirts under starched white aprons with quaint-looking starched wings at the shoulders. All this is set off by a tiny, frilly white cap with a thin red velvet border pinned to the hair, very much like an inverted cup-cake. Bright lipstick and understated make-up are the norm, but, of course, the sisters don't wear gloves while on duty and nail lacquer is not allowed.

Naturally, many of you pettes would like at least one, shall we say fashion infra-detail. Well, I can tell you that the sisters all must wear black nylons, and when one leant over whist making up the bed, I caught an ever-so-fleeting, deliciously contrasting flash of lovely white thigh. As the only blonde patient here at the moment, I am getting lavished with attention, needless to say . . . It will be quite difficult to leave here.

Thanks so much for all the lovely pink roses. One of the sisters is an expert at arranging flowers, so my art deco room is just aglow with blooms! I wonder if all this is on the National Health.

I'll rejoin you as soon as ever I can! Warmest regards,

Blonde with Black Stockings

Dear Miss Barbara:
I found my way here from Femmeworld. Seems like a very erotic place to hang out. Who was to know that I would end up here when I put on my black silk stockings and garter belt this morning.

I'll just slip up here on this stool and cross my legs, oh so slow. I noticed that some girls prefer not to let their stocking tops show when making difficult moves. And I agree. But the appearance of silk speaks volumes - without showing the tops.

Being blonde, I have always found that black stockings have the most desireable effect. What do you think?
KIMBERLY P/S. the girls at Femmeworld told me about this site and suggested that I ask you for access to the Inner Sanctum. They said some very tasteful erotic pictures could be found in the Inner Sanctum. I would love to give it a try. Please send me the secret to get in!

Justine Enters Softly

So exquisite and refreshingly exciting to say hello to all.

As a new purveyor of femininity and as one who is learning to appreciate the charms of a time past, I wish to say hello and to let all know I'm open and excited to know more of femme world.

Help me to discover and explore the enchantment of what the true femme can impart. The bar looks very inviting.

May I buy the next round?

By all means, darling. Mine's a Fountain of Youth.

Jade Pops In

Well I came back for another visit and read the postings to the cocktail bar. The gimlet is not as enjoyable as the blonde bombshell, but as a redhead my favorite is rum. tell me please why none of the pictures described is posted as reading about them is titillating and I would love to see them. I am reminded of some of my own experiences. I must say bye! for now ,in a rush as usual. See you all soon.

Pictures are not posted here in the Cocktail Bar (and if you notice the effect they have on some of our blonde visitors -- not to mention brunettes as witness Miss Barbara's letter further down -- you will see why). To see the pictures you must go to the Inner Sanctum armed with a password. As you are a contributor I shall pop one in the Elektrapost for you. But visit at your own risk. Some one in the Femmeworld Common Room said that redheads are a species of blonde, and look what happened to Miss Ariadne!

ATTENTION: The Aphrodite Cocktail Bar management

We regret to inform you that yesterday evening our Emergency Team was called to the Aphrodite Inner Sanctum, where they found one of your patrons, a Miss Ariadne, prostrate on the floor in a dead swoon. Before losing consciousness, Miss Ariadne, a classic blonde, mumbled to a bystander that she had wantonly ignored the advice of a Miss Barbara not to visit the Inner Sanctum, as well as something to the effect that there were shameful pictures on display. Our emergency staff, all brunettes, found nothing out of the ordinary, except a number of demurely suggestive photographs displayed on the gallery walls. It was noted that Miss Ariadne apparently had imbibed a number of gimlets prior to visiting the Sanctum.

Miss Ariadne is now resting comfortably under light sedation at our facility outside London and will remain here for several days. We believe that she will have a full and rapid recovery. Nonetheless, might I most discreetly suggest that the management at the Aphrodite Cocktail Bar take special care in future that delicate blondes are not provided with passwords to the Inner Sanctum? It is well-known that certain blondes have an unusually low tolerance not only for gimlets, but for even mildly erotic materials, however femininely modest they may be.

Flowers may be sent by Miss Ariadne's friends; she evidently is partial to pink roses.

Lingerie Group Answer

Andrea asked if the newsgroup is still running. It is, and it has had a number of threads lately that I would think would be of interest to Aristasians. There haven't been any contributions recently from Aristasians. I hope that Andrea's difficulty in receiving it hasn't been widespread, since it is one of the few places where it is possible to discuss lingerie with some seriousness and some lyricism (in mixed company however).

Miss Barbara to Ariadne

Dear, Sweet Ariadne,
I am so very thankful for your kind reception of my comments and the gimlet. As a blonde, you will never know the anxiety, the fretfulness we brunettes go through every time we put ourselves at the mercy of the fairer sex. Will she say yes? Will she accept my kindnesses? Or, as is sometimes the case, please do not deny it, will she slap my face for being a tad too forward? You have given me the purest gift possible: a warm response to my tentative gesture. And, if I had known you were WINKING at me, I would have sent the gimlet ages ago. The thought never entered my mind; in fact, I just assumed that you had a bit of dust in your eye. I was even considering the possibility of offering a lavender lace hanky, dabbed in some water, to perhaps remedy the difficulty.

May I move to the art-deco stool next to yours, Dear Heart, so that we can continue this conversation in softer, sweeter voices?

Ever Devoted to Your Eternal Charms,


P.S. I do not think I could ever visit the Inner Sanctum again, and especially not with someone as fair as yourself. I would advise you against going, with or without a strong brunette to guide you. Yours is far too sensitive and delicate a constitution to be sullied by such naughtiness. I would hate to see anything spoil the sweet innocence that shines out from your eyes.

A Slip Showing

I agree what Iris said. It does not make much sense to match the slip length with the skirt length. It really depends on what you want to do and where you go. To be provocative, I would always manage to show the lacy slip hem when sit down. It is a pleasure to see the surprised looks of both women and men. I think, nothing comes as close to an erotic view as the fraction of an inch of a nice slip showing. However, talking business I would never show my slips in any case. This is the wrong place to play with femininity, because this is the outer space. It is not the warm and sensual place we found decades ago. SUE ESTELLE DE MEER

Darling, you mean that one cannot play with femininity in the late 20th century, and of course you may be right. But it is not the late 20th century here in the Cocktail Bar. It is -- well, it is quite out of time, but it is certainly not the late 20th century. Perhaps that is why we can and do play with femininity here.

Lingerie/Fashion Swopshop

Since I first wrote to the Cocktail Bar about my love of slips and petticoats there seems to have been a lot of chat about lingerie. I wonder if there is sufficient interest to start a Lingerie or Fashion Swopshop. The idea is that someone offers an item of lingerie or fashion from their collection and asks for something in return. If someone else is interested they send an e-mail reply with their real postal address to the Aphrodite girl that checks the cloaks in the cloakroom, she could then pass it on to the lady that made the initial offer. The items involved must be clean and in good condition. I would suggest that the swop shop page takes place inside the pass-word protected area of Aphrodite, to maintain confidentiality. Here is an example of how it could work:

ID Code: 001 Item offered for swop:
Lovely silky-feel thin waist slip with long lace-edged split and 1" lace hem. Material: 100% Nylon Date: 1993 Size: UK 12/14 Length: 26" Colour: Black

Wanted: Any full length, thin silky nylon slip, UK size 16/18 preferably with a split/s, any colour, any length. OR any basque/girdle with suspenders (size UK 18)

I hope that this may interest Sue Estelle, Paula, Ariadne and the other collectors of lingerie. I also wonder if the Aphrodite owners would be willing to put a swopshop page onto their service, and to act as a clearing house, if there is sufficient interest. I appreciate that this would involve more work.

Before I finish, Sue Estelle, you started to tell us about your trip to Spain about 2 months ago, are you going to give us part 2? Does anyone know if the newsgroup is still running, as I have not been able to receive any mail from it?

If sufficient interest is shown we could give it a try -- although snail-mailing lingerie all over the globe could prove expensive.

Ariadne to Miss Barbara

Well, I actually did notice you sitting across the bar, perched on your stool, cocktail hoisted just like the girl in the sketch, but even more elegant. I winked at you goodness knows how many times, but you must have been looking elsewhere!

I must say I am flattered to be so admired, but, at risk of contradiction, I have considered myself rather scatterbrained recently, even since visiting Aristasia-in-Telluria and learning I was a blonde!

At all events, I'll take you up on that gimlet. Bye-the-bye, I heard through the grapevine that you had visited the Inner Sanctum. I've tried ever so hard to find my way there but have not yet been graced with a secret password. Perhaps, when I get one (assuming they allow blondes in there) you might overcome your shame and horror enough to take me there, under your wing, so to speak. I am ever so curious to see what it is that made you flush so!


Miss Barbara's Return

Hello Darlings.
I go away, just over night, to Chicago and come back to the most precious femmey chit-chat imaginable! I just feel ready to burst with news from my trip. Those women in Chicago, well, they ARE brunette, and Tellurian to be sure, but some of them are living the Aristasian life without even knowing the empire! I met two Latina women, just by accident, who taught me a thing or two about matching shades of lipstick with finger polish. My are they lovely, and me, another brunette, thinking so. Oh. I am just recovering from the excitement of it all.

May I say to Ariadne that I am so very impressed with your delicate, yet direct and strong nature. I am an admirer, sitting across the bar, wanting to buy you a gimlet, if you'd just look my way and nod your sweet head in appreciation.

With only the most honorable intentions,

Aphroditism in Marriage


Thought provoking, no doubt. Being married for "more than many" years to the same man, we have discussed the feminine/male interaction with enormous positive result. In the early years of our marriage, I like many gained my "pleasure" from my man's pleasure. After the babies, we started to explore far more our deeper sexuality. My husband suggested the soft see-through panties rather than my white cottontails.

The more "soft" I became the more erotic he became. Instead of his pleasure he now takes the time to "tease" and "caress" my feminine nature. All my nighties now silk and have bows, and lace. I love to feel the softness against my skin, and I know this same softness excites my partner.

What a wonderful innovation, a place of our own. I would like to find others here how would discuss their own "secrets", I have started to talk with my friends about their relationship with their husbands to understand if they have similar experiences. Thank you Femmeworld, for sending me here.


Womanhood Enhanced

The girls at Femmeworld showed me your site and I was enthralled. At last a group of women sharing my fascination with the 50's!

I've been gathering underwear from the 50's and 60's for quite a while now and started wearing girdles and stockings a few years ago. I've always felt more sensual wearing elaborate underthings. But now, with the help of my husband we have really started an interesting collection of vintage girdles, petticoats, bras and stockings.

As for wearing these things, I really became truly myself only when I started to feel the marvelous gap between my girdle and stocking tops when dressed with a flowing skirt. The frailty of my womanhood was definitely enhanced and I have enjoyed every minute since then.

I will come back to this site.

Slip into Fashion

I just read the nice article written by Andrea about her love for slips and her struggle which one to wear to a certain dress. You know, it is weeks ago that I contributed to the cocktail bar. I thought, I'm to old to give you ladies some of my inner thoughts about my love for slips. Now there is another girl (Andrea)who enjoys wearing them and I'm so happy, that I'm not alone. I love girdles and stockings very much but slips are the ultimate feminine cloth, because there are no limits in design. colors, lace and length. Unfortunately they are out of fashion these days, especially those designed following the styles of the 50s and 60s. But we all have some saved and some of us still have real old ones of those happy days. I would be happy to correspond with Andrea and the ones who love slips as well. Hopefully we could swap our user-id's.

Out of fashion? Ask any one here and you'll find that slips are the it-thing!


it is very nice to see a place where womyn enjoy being feminine and sensuous.
thank you.

Experiences of an Italian Girl

I did not think that it was possible to make conversations like the ones that we have here in "Cocktail bar", because even with my girl friends it difficult to talk about many subjects.

Also, recently, for example, I have been in a shop with a friend, and we tried some skirts together. How surprised, almost suspiciously, did she look at my waist-slip! I was surprised, on the contrary, seeing her G-string, that I don't like.

All these pleasant conversations call to my mind the times of the high school. I remember that one day, after talking for many minutes leaning on the banister of the school's landing, a school-mate told me that the boys had been comfortably looking under my skirt from the floor below. I was terribly disturbed, and I was always afraid, when going up or down the stairs of the school, that somebody looked at my slip, at my panties. I also remember that we used to go every month to a classical music concert. Concerts were played in an indoor stadium, and we were all sitting on the steps. In the beginning we were all keeping demure positions, of course; but after one hour, turning back towards the steps above me, I noticed that unwarded skirts were open out, and many girls were showing their slips (or even more). I suddenly realized that I was doing the same, and I certainly was not at my ease! I had the impression that everybody was looking at me, then. I was very embarrassed. Maybe disturbed in some way, because when I found myself alone I had strong temptations.

I have also been in a summer college, and it was worse, there, with the pleated skirts of those uniforms (I should have a picture somewhere). But I don't want to bore you any more with these reminiscences. I'd rather want to tell you that you are all wonderful.

I agree with Suzanne, with Nyssa, with Andrea, with Paula, with Ariadne. I am only slightly surprised by the suggestion of wearing a slip corresponding in length to the skirt that one is wearing. Slip's lace comes so easily to light; and people are so read to stare!

Oh, I have so many more things to say, to ask, to share, that I must absolutely refrain myself!

But let me at least thank all of you.

Lacy Undergarments Everywhere!

First, allow me to thank those wonderful girls at Femmeworld for sending me here. It is so nice to be among other ladies who understand the appeal of a slip or a bra. I just finished washing all of my lacy, silky underthings. There isn't much that reminds one of her true feminine nature more than a home filled with garments drying from every hook, bar, or doorknob in the place, don't you think, dears? But enough about undergarments! I do have one small thing to say in response to Victoria Harris: Your slumber parties sound just grand, and, if it isn't too forward of me to say so, perhaps your comment that you can't have "this kind of fun with my husband!!" is one to be taken to heart.

Ariadne Sends Apologies to Andrea

For a few days I feared my remarks had frightened you away, Andrea, so I'm quite relieved to find you back in the Cocktail Bar so soon and in such high spirits! A martini or two is just the ticket to steady one's nerves, though I am partial to gimlets.

Well, as you saw, I apologised in public to Paula, (whom I have neither seen again nor heard from), and I owe you an apology as well. I'm very sorry if I offended you, too. But you see, I have been undergoing a metamorphosis ever since I applied for a visa to visit Aristasia. A Miss M. Q. of the Aristasian Consular Section, after reviewing my visa application, classified me unequivocally as a blonde for Aristasian immigration purposes -- I believe it is very important for Aristasians to decide whether one is a blonde or a brunette. In the course of our correspondence I had related something about myself to Miss Q., and she did not hesitate at all in calling me a blonde.

Now, since my hair is actually a dark shade of red, the concept of "being a blonde" had never even entered my head: I considered myself a thoughtful serious responsible girl. But now that I officially have been certified as blonde by high Aristasian authority, I have discovered that whatever brunettish traits I may have had are fading away, like a guttering candle. Once in a while, as in what Paula called my "tirade", they flare up (to my chagrin) for a moment or two, but, by-and-large, I find myself in the position of the two blondes described by Miss A. L. Trent as "hovering nervously at a closed door, vaguely hoping for the arrival of a maidservant or a brunette to curtail their embarrassment".

It is a delightfully refreshing position for a girl to be in! I find that I have fewer and fewer intellectual decisions to make, worry far less, awaken later in the mornings, am marvelously forgetful (once even neglecting to pull on my gloves for a trip to the greengrocer!) daydream about my clothing, and (may I say it), my lingerie, as well as that of other girls Consistency of mind seems so unimportant at the moment! Far less trouble crying, far easier to giggle, too. So if I appear inconsistent or even (perish the thought!) rude, I must plead diminished capacity on account of my new-found blondeness.

At all events, I should be infinitely gratified, Andrea, if you and I could have a drink together in the Cocktail Bar and talk over some the finer points of lacy couture and frilly underthings -- discreetly, to be sure! If you are a brunette, however, I believe you will have to invite me, but if you are a blonde, I suppose we can both agree to meet and split the tab. (And, by the way, Andrea, I believe we are in the bar, though you mentioned the Common Room a couple of times: the latter is on the whole a somewhat more cerebral and less spontaneous venue -- not much chit-chat or giggling there.)

Good-bye for now! I remain your faithful

May we say that Ariadne's impression of the Femmeworld Common Room is perhaps due to the fact that the pettes there do not seem to have an Archive. It is true the conversation has been a little serious lately, but we seem to remember it a few weeks ago as a positive hive of bubbly whimsy and blonde-jokes. Speaking of which, have any of you pettes had a Blonde Bombshell? It is made with whisky, cream and sugar syrup and really separates the blondes from the brunettes -- that is, many brunettes say it is to sickly for words, while most blondes say "Yes please, darling?"