Miss Manners (14 page)

14

Running in Heels

TUESDAY, 26th APRIL             

‘Now, girls,’ said Brie the next morning, ‘posture is confidence. And the secret to good posture is balance. But don’t worry. I won’t be asking you to do any ballet. Instead, I want each of you to back up against the wall with your heels, upper back, head and shoulders touching the wall.’

As I stood against the wall in my
Jimmys, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked a bit like my mum, besuited and heeled.

Brie walked over to each of us in turn, correcting our postures.
‘Keep your feet parallel, draw your abdomen in, move your back closer to the wall, lift your chest and keep your shoulders back. India, try to increase the gap between your shoulders and your hips as much as you can. Darcy, pull your chin back and raise your head.’ Brie positioned Darcy so that her head was in the right place. ‘That’s much better. A rounded back, sagging shoulders and drooping chin is never attractive. Plus, it makes you appear ten years older.’

Wow, standing like a stem actually made my boobs look bigger. I
’d never really thought about my posture before. I mean, as a kid my mum always used to tell me to stop slouching, but I never really took much notice.

‘
Now, I want you to pretend there is a string attached to the top of your head, going to the ceiling and pulling up as if you were a puppet. Check yourselves in the mirror to really get a feel for this position.’

We
’d spent the early part of the morning analysing photos of classic celebrities’ (i.e. Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, Ava Gardner) correct and incorrect sitting, standing and walking positions.

‘
Practice makes perfect, girls,’ Brie chanted. ‘Right, now we’re going to take a look at how to walk correctly. You need to wear the right pair of shoes. As I am sure you are already aware, the shoes you wear very much depend on the occasion. Although heels improve your posture, you cannot walk in them all day, every day, otherwise it’ll become physical endurance and perhaps even do more damage than good.’

‘
I think there should be a law against heels,’ I said, my feet aching already.

‘
However,’ she continued, disregarding my comment, ‘walking in heels is a post-feminist skill. No one can do it anymore because everyone wears UGGs and flats, and it’s something all women
should
be able to do. You should be able to run in heels. Now, can anyone tell me what the benefits of wearing heels are?’

‘
Height!’ suggested one girl. ‘Confidence!’ chimed in another. ‘Elegance,’ another called out.

Brie wrote each
answer on the board in one elegant sweep. I was tempted to shout out ‘bunions, corns, calluses, hammertoes and ingrown toenails’, but just about managed to suppress myself.

‘
Another added benefit is femininity,’ Brie continued, ‘as heels accentuate the female figure. Do you know how Marilyn Monroe perfected the best wiggle in the business?’

The girls all looked at her, open
-mouthed, especially Pinkie and Genevieve.

‘
She asked her cobbler to make one heel half an inch lower than the other,’ she announced. ‘But, of course, that’s a step too far. Our next lesson is How to Walk in Heels
not
How to Walk like Marilyn Monroe. So now, I want each of you to take it in turns to walk from one end of the room to the other whilst maintaining your balance. We don’t want any twisted ankles, broken heels, slips, tumbles or any other less-than-elegant missteps. Genevieve, you’re first up.’

I couldn
’t help smiling to myself as I noticed Pinkie concentrating all her efforts on not falling over.

‘
Now, I want you to imagine you are on a catwalk at London Fashion Week,’ Brie trilled. ‘Or a trapeze artist walking along a tightrope.’

Obviously, Pinkie and Genevieve were both experts at catwalking, sashaying up and down the roo
m as if they were a couple of eight-year-olds who had just raided their mother’s closet. The pair spent the next few minutes trying to out-manoeuvre one another, looking like a couple of OAPs in need of a hip replacement.

‘
This is an extremely exaggerated and unnatural walk, which the judges will NOT be interested in seeing at the Miss Manners contest. So, Pinkie and Genevieve, if you want to score points, I want you to pay careful attention as we learn how to stride
naturally
and
elegantly
rather than
robotically
and
aggressively
.’

The mouths of both Pinkie and Genevieve dropped in unison, both looking extremely offended.

‘We will be perfecting The Glide. So, I want you to picture yourselves walking down the red carpet. Think Audrey Hepburn winning an Oscar for
Roman Holiday
.’

Well
, I couldn’t ‘think Audrey Hepburn winning an Oscar for
Roman Holiday
’, because I’d never seen Audrey Hepburn win an Oscar for
Roman Holiday
!

‘
Allow me to show you how The Glide is properly done before you attempt it yourselves.’ And with that, Brie glided across the room like a delicate flower.

The Glide
was like a flowing river. Except when I tried to replicate it, I ended up almost tripping on my face (which, I’m sure, would’ve made Pinkie’s day). Obviously, it was much harder in practice than in theory.

‘
Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot,’ Brie commanded as each of us took our turns, clapping at varying speeds. ‘Glide, Phoenix. Don’t strut, glide,’ she said, stopping me mid walk.

I
’d never paid this much attention to the way I walked. Not since my job interview at Harrolds.

‘
And stop shlumping,’ she said to me. ‘Straighten your back. If you want to establish your walk, you need rhythm. Now, follow my claps.’ Brie continued clapping like a hungry sea lion. Then, once we’d all had a go, we focused on how to stop and start, and turn corners gracefully, followed by developing our wiggles à la Marilyn Monroe.

You should
’ve seen everyone. I mean, I’ve never see so many jiggling butts in my entire life. Seriously, we might as well have had jelly-making lessons!

Thirty
minutes of butt-jiggling and toe-stubbing later, I was exhausted. So, by the time we moved on to sitting class, I was ecstatic.

‘
All right, girls,’ Brie sang. ‘After all that walking, I think you deserve to sit down. So, next we’re going to focus on how to sit gracefully.’

At the mention of sitting I ran over to a chair and sat down. AAAAAAAAAAH
HHH. There were no words to describe just how amazing it felt finally to sit after standing all day.

‘
Phoenix! Stand up right this instant!’ Brie yelled, her face scrunching up like a Ferrero Rocher wrapper. ‘Before we sit down, I would like you to try walking in the black corsets and black elbow-length gloves I have supplied for each of you.’

No way! I am NOT wearing a corset! I
’d prefer not to pass out, thanks.

As Brie handed out a corset and pair of gloves to each of us, I couldn
’t help feeling like I was a character in a Jane Austen novel.

Here I am once again in this scene of dissipation and vice
, I thought to myself, remembering a Jane Austen quote I once read.

‘
This will immediately affect your posture, whether standing, walking or sitting. So, what I want you to do now is to change into these as quickly as possible.’

After each of us was paired up with another girl, we began tightening each other
’s corsets. Pinkie and Genevieve got paired together, which I think Brie had done to amuse herself. It was so funny; Pinkie deliberately tightened Genevieve’s corset too tightly, causing her to go slightly mental.

‘
Ouch!’ Genevieve screamed at Pinkie. ‘
Tu es folle ou quoi? Je ne peux pas respirer!
I can’t breathe!’

‘
Yeah, well, if you weren’t so fat...’ Pinkie muttered maliciously. ‘I mean, you could always go on a diet.’

Whilst Pinkie and Genevieve attempted to suffocate each other like
a pair of warring mistresses, I tried to control my breathing. The corset was heavy, tight and constraining. Lucky I didn’t have much to eat or drink beforehand.

‘
The reason you are wearing a corset,’ Brie explained, ‘is to develop a more
refined
posture. So, now, I want each of you to pace the room as if you are about to meet the Queen.’

After pacing up and down the room, we then focused on sitting. But the problem was, as I went to sit down, I found it so difficult that I just stood up again.

I bet the corset was invented as a way of purging the bowels
, I thought to myself.

‘
The ugliest of all sitting faults is the frog-legged squat. There is only one place for that position, and that is on the lavatory.’ Brie stood at the front of the room, her eyes closing as she composed her next sentence. ‘The aim of this exercise is to develop a graceful way of making the transition from standing to sitting, which can be applied to entering a car without flashing your undergarments, taking your seat at a restaurant respectably, and so on. As for the black gloves, they are de rigueur, and I’m sure Her Majesty’s fashion police will back me up on that. Think Grace Kelly.’

As we practi
sed our standing-to-sitting exercises, I couldn’t help thinking about what kind of surprise Henry had planned for me. But before I had the chance to guess, my thoughts were interrupted.

‘
Phoenix, please do concentrate. Legs together, hands on lap!’ Brie ordered, clapping her hands.

I couldn
’t wait to get the crappy corset off! I was a human, not a statue! I mean, I felt like a waxwork at Madame Tussauds. I seriously didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

Only
ten more minutes
, I reminded myself.
Then I’m out of here!

15

Surprise!

I was finally free! I’d never noticed how fresh the London air was before wearing that cruddy corset. Plus, I was sure that anything Henry had planned to take my mind off the academy would be amazing – even stamp-licking.

I checked the time on my phone
: 5.39 p.m. I had about twenty minutes to get to Covent Garden. When I arrived, my hair windswept and my face windburned, a familiar voice came from behind, followed by the clean smell of aftershave. I turned around to find Henry’s smiling face, looking raring to go.

‘
Hey, Anna!’ said Henry. ‘So, are you ready for the surprise?’

I was almost too distracted to answer, noticing how blue his eyes were in broad daylight.
‘Sure,’ I said, as my brain went limp.

I was fed up of being a trainee Bond girl and being treated like a
china doll. So when Henry opened his arms and clasped me in a big, warm hug, I never really wanted him to let go.

‘
It’s good to see you,’ he went on, as my nose went into his shoulder.

Behind him, I could see all different kinds of street performers (jugglers, acrobats, human statues), but I wasn
’t really concentrating. I was too busy wallowing in Henry’s fresh, zesty smell and his soft blue jumper.

‘
A bit cold, isn’t it?’ I mumbled.

‘
Here,’ he said, taking his jumper off and handing it over to me. ‘Put this on.’

Oh, man. Why was I suddenly acting like such a girl around Henry? Maybe it was
that time of the month and hormones were toying with my emotions?

‘
Thanks,’ I said, my heart fluttering as he smiled encouragingly. Any sentence comprising more than four words was hard to construct at this point. My brain was flagging from eight hours of standing, walking and sitting exercises.

The jumper was warm and cosy against my body, and I literally wanted to go and find a hidden corner somewhere, sit down and sniff it. But I probably would
’ve looked like a total freak, so I decided to resist the urge.

‘
Suits you,’ Henry said, flashing me a toothpaste-advert smile. ‘Follow me.’ He grabbed my hand excitedly, like a teddy bear going to a picnic.

As we walked past the hord
e of tourists flashing their cameras, I took in the sights, sounds and smells.

‘
So, I’ve been trying to guess what this “surprise” is all afternoon. Any clues?’ I pleaded.

‘
Good things come to those who wait,’ Henry replied with a wink.

If anyone else
other than Henry winked at me, I would probably vom
.

A few minutes later, we walked into the Jubilee Market Hall
, where Henry stopped behind a massive queue of tourists chattering away outside one of the shops. I noticed a sign above the shop door that read ‘Segway’.

‘
Segway? What’s a Segway?’ I wondered out loud.

But before Henry had a chance to respond, the queue started moving forwards
and we found ourselves inside the shop, which was filled with strange-looking, big-wheeled contraptions.

‘
Welcome to the world of Segway, everyone! I’m Hegley Snood and I’ll be your tour operator today,’ said a short, podgy besuited man in his forties, waving his arms in a prayer to the sun. ‘As part of our tour of London programme, today we will be going on a tour of Covent Garden, formally called ‘the Convent Garden’ and belonging to Westminster Abbey, which was the first ever public square to be created in the country.’

I suddenly remembered a story I read in the papers recently.
‘Wait a minute, didn’t the owner of Segway die after riding one off a cliff?’

All the tourists suddenly swivelled their heads to look at me
, like owls spotting a mouse.

‘
Luckily for us, the closest we have to a cliff in Covent Garden is Cliff Richard’s name set in the pavement at the Avenue of the Stars.’

As everyone smiled, I turned to Henry.
‘Luckily for me, my posture class today has been good preparation,’ I whispered to him.

‘
I thought we’d do a bit of sightseeing,’ Henry said, ‘with a difference.’

‘
I’ve never done a tour of London on a Segway!’ I replied excitedly. ‘I feel like a proper tourist right now.’

‘
I
am
a tourist,’ he said, beaming. ‘So imagine how I must feel.’

‘
So, everyone,’ Hegley announced, ‘before we set out on the tour, I’ll give you a quick brief on how to use a Segway personal transporter. It travels up to twelve and a half miles per hour, or about twenty kilometres per hour.’

Wow, I
’ll be able to race a three-toed sloth and win
.

‘
When you apply the key, you’ll hear a beep once the Segway reads it. Then, on the display window, you’ll see a happy smiling face, which means that the Segway is now stable.’

Okay, I get it. So the Segway is happy when it gets turned on
.

‘
To go forward, you need to lean forward, and to reverse, you just lean backwards. It’s that simple!’

‘
It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie,’ I said to Henry.

Before long, each of us
went to claim our individually assigned Segways, which all had a number printed on them from one to twenty. Mine was number nineteen and Henry’s was number twenty.

Once everyone had walked their Segways out of the shop, we were finally ready to embark on our
sci-fi tour of Covent Garden. Except I felt like a drunken flamingo as I desperately tried to maintain my balance. Annoyingly, Henry seemed to have taken to the Segway like a duck to water.

As the rest of the tour group glided off on their machines, Henry came to my rescue.

‘It’s not funny,’ I said after almost falling off as I leaned backwards to reverse. ‘And anyway, how come you’re so good at it?’

‘
It’s a bit like riding a bike – all about balance, momentum and weight distribution,’ Henry said matter-of-factly.

‘
You sound like Brie. “Practice makes perfect, girls,”’ I mimicked.

Henry manoeuvred his Segway as close to mine as he possibly could, then placed his hands on top of mine.
‘Try not to think about it. Close your eyes and just imagine you’re on an electric scooter.’

As I closed my eyes, all I could focus on were his warm hands and the butterfl
ies fluttering inside my ribcage. When I opened them again, it was like I was seeing Henry for the first time. Except this time, I was
really
seeing him. A blue-eyed, bed-head blonde with a smile that would melt butter.

‘
I reckon if I hadn’t worn those heels on Friday, I would’ve been on the floor a long time ago,’ he joked.

I smiled,
then turned the key. But just as I leaned forward, I hurtled at such a speed that I started to panic, almost hitting an elderly woman.

‘
HEEEEEEEEELP!’ I yelped, panicking.

Henry sped up after me
in a bid to save me once again. ‘Lean back,’ he shouted from behind.

As I leaned back and slowed down, I noticed I
’d attracted a bit of a crowd and had stolen a few audience members from the acrobat in the piazza.

Hegley and the rest of the tour group glided towards me.

‘Are you alright?’ Hegley asked worriedly.

Some m
embers of the tour group suddenly seemed to regret their excursion.

‘
Fine, thanks. I’m just glad I haven’t come across Cliff Richard’s plaque, that’s all,’ I managed to joke, my voice squeaky.

After that embarrassing charade, I was finally able to get the hang of it with Henry
’s help.

I turned towards
him. ‘Thanks for saving my life,’ I breathed, my cheeks flushing.

‘
Any time,’ Henry said, a smile in his voice.

‘
So, I guess this makes you my knight in shining armour?’

Henry laughed, his eyes crinkling.
‘I guess it does.’

As we meandered around Covent Garden, we were told various strange stories, briefed on the traditions of street performance, the history of the Royal Opera House, the piazza, the Jubilee Market Hall, the Seven Dials and various other buildings in the area. I
’d never felt more like a tourist, especially with such a diverse cultural mix in the group: Japanese, American, French, German... basically, the entire UN. I can safely say I have never seen tourists taking pictures whilst on a Segway. It was quite a surreal experience.

Once the tour was over, I didn
’t really want to get off the Segway. I mean, once I’d got the hang of it (and minus the minor hiccup at the beginning of the tour), it was actually really good fun. Twelve and a half miles per hour actually felt a lot more like twenty-five miles per hour. The downside was the fact that I probably looked like a long-haired Yorkshire terrier that had stuck its head out of a moving car for about an hour.

‘
So, what did you think?’ Henry asked, pulling his beanie over his head.

‘
Even though I’ve lived in London longer than you,
I’m
the one who feels like a tourist,’ I pointed out. ‘I mean, it’s just one of those things I’ve never done but always wanted to do.’

‘
What else have you never done but always wanted to do in London?’

I thought for a moment,
then spotted a tuk-tuk parked nearby.

‘
Ride a tuk-tuk,’ I said.

Henry laughed, probably at the way I over-pronounced the word tuk-tuk.
‘So, as today’s theme is Things You’ve Never Done But Always Wanted to Do, we shall now, upon my decree, ride a tuk-tuk.’

And with that, Henry dragged me to the
tuk-tuk, muttered a few words to the driver, then, before I could say another word, sat down inside the carriage.

‘
Where are we going?’ I asked, feeling the warmth radiate from Henry beside me.

‘
It’s a surprise!’ he said, all wide-eyed and mysterious.

It was hilarious riding in a tuk-tuk. I
’d always seen them around London but never really acknowledged them. A bit like pigeons, really. But after riding one, I decided I would begin to appreciate tuk-tuks – and pigeons – a lot more.

Eventually, after short-cutting, bell-ringing and people-dodging, the tuk-tuk came to a stop outside the Tea Garden in Chinatown.

Henry looked at me as if to say ‘Trust me’, so I followed him inside. But nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see.

From the outside, the place seemed so tiny. But as soon as I stepped inside, I felt as if I had been transported to China. The place had been completely transformed into an authentic Chinese garden. There was a bridge arching over a running stream, a pebble-scattered garden, cherry blossom trees and a waterfall. It even had authentic traditional Oriental music coming out from one loudspeaker and the sounds of chirping birds from another, which undoubtedly added to the ambience.

‘I know you like your tea, so I thought I’d bring you here. I’ve heard they have every kind of tea imaginable,’ he said with a cheeky glint in his eye, ‘including several variations of Earl Grey.’

How did Henry know I liked Earl Grey? Oh, I know. He must
’ve noticed the emergency Earl Grey teabags that spilled out of my bag when I tripped on my first day at
Couture
. I smiled, feeling my face flush with heat. ‘This place is incredible. How do you find these places?’

‘
TimeOut
,’ he said, grinning ear to ear.

As we sat down at an ornate garden table decorated with embroidered cushions, I took a deep breath and allowed the strong mix of aromas to fill my nostrils. I was in tea heaven.

The menu was an ancient-looking, tea-stained scroll, which had the most exotic names I had ever read. I’d never seen so many teas in my entire life! Plus, there was even a tea so rare that it was priced at £1,400 for a single pot!

‘
Welcome to the Tea Garden,’ said a beautiful Asian girl. ‘May I take your order?’

There were literally hundreds of teas to choose from
on the menu, so I just ordered an Earl Grey.

‘
Which blend would you like?’ she asked, listing all the different blends of Earl Grey, which I’d never heard of before.

‘
Surprise me,’ I said.

‘
Would you like to try any of our specials today?’ asked the girl.

‘
What are the specials? And how much do they cost?’ I asked, intrigued.