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Historically, although the term “sock” has ancient origins, the garments typically worn by men were often referred to as tights, particularly when discussing the longer hose that were fashionable at various times. This term was used to describe the lower part of the body, and by analogy, it referred to a one-piece covering for the lower trunk and limbs in the 15th century, which essentially consisted of tights made up of upper stocks and nether supplies, later worn separately as knee breeches and stockings, respectively.

So, if you have a fetish for stockings, look no further. All our fine young ladies will honour your wishes by wearing only the finest socks for your eyes.

An intriguing journey through time.

Before the 1590s, stockings were crafted from woven cloth, with the first knitting machines designed specifically for this purpose. The socks themselves were made from materials such as cotton, linen, wool, or silk, with polished cotton, known as lisle, being standard, along with those produced in Balbriggan.

The history of socks is a fascinating journey through time, showing how these simple garments have evolved and become a vital part of our daily lives. From ancient civilisations to modern fashion, socks have a story to tell that reflects cultural changes and innovative spirit.

Prior to the 1920s, women’s stockings were primarily worn for warmth. However, as hemlines rose during the 1920s, women began wearing socks to cover their exposed legs. These stockings were sheer and initially made from silk or rayon (then termed “artificial silk”); after 1940, nylon became prevalent. The first pantyhose emerged in the 1940s and 1950s, gaining popularity through film and theatre, where stockings were sewn to the briefs of actresses and dancers, as noted by actress Ann Miller in films like Daddy Long Legs.

In modern times, socks are commonly made from knitted wool, silk, cotton, or nylon. The introduction of pantyhose in 1959 provided a convenient alternative to stockings, resulting in a significant decline in sock usage. U.S. sales of stockings surpassed those of socks for the first time and have continued to do so. Although sales of stockings with suspender belts saw a slight decline due to the invention of hold-ups, they have remained popular.

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I am not at home because I am typing this from Italy. Lucky me!
My long weekend break, returning tomorrow morning, with Giovanni, started as “coffee soon?” and became “take your passport and meet me at Heathrow at 13:00 hours. Giovanni was born in the West End to Sicilian parents and emigrated there in 1990 before making his home somewhere between Tuscany and Paris. He has an ex-wife, five children, three dogs, a villa in the Tuscan countryside, and a mistress in Paris with one child. Before you ask how he manages to afford to keep them all, his six-figure salary seems to be that.

How do I fit in? Well, he does like to keep up appearances with the Italian social elite and to rub his ex-wife’s nose in the fact that he hasn’t lost touch with the ladies. Ex-Mrs. Giovanni is unaware of the Parisian mistress or the half-brother of her offspring, so I step in as the model girlfriend. I don’t mind; I love Italy, and I’m accustomed to being discreet.

So we came to Italy for proper coffee, ground from good coffee beans, in an authentic restaurant by an adequate barista. I used a small amount of Italian vocabulary on him – enough to say “grazie” – and flashed my most dazzling smile. Red-blooded Mediterranean men do like to feel appreciated by red-blooded British women! And how do I want my coffee? Well, I am partial to a cappuccino, but I prefer a latte – especially when it’s homegrown.

I discovered that the barista training is conveniently located right around the corner from the hotel. How exciting!

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Women can indeed be manipulative—sometimes in subtle ways, even when they claim otherwise. My mother used to say, “Ask, and you shall receive; don’t ask, and you won’t want.” I have my doubts about that.

Let me set the scene for you…

This weekend, I spent a delightful day at Westfield Shopping Centre, just ten minutes from Paddington, with a charming companion. Surrounded by bustling shoppers and high-end boutiques, I managed to tick off several items on my shopping list, including some with Victor. I adore shopping dates, as they offer a refreshing change from my usual online shopping spree on Amazon.

There we were, fingers intertwined, arms laden with branded bags. Victor had insisted on visiting nearly every men’s clothing store (who says men aren’t particular?), while I found myself yearning for those stunning multi-coloured glitter stilettos from Kurt Geiger on level one. As he tried on his fiftieth jumper, I mentally justified the £150 price tag while calculating the remaining balance on my MasterCard.

Being attuned to the needs of others, I often step in before tensions rise, especially when Victor gets frustrated. I wanted those shoes, and he was ready for a change of scenery, so I suggested we pop into Pret a Manger, conveniently located on level one. The aroma of coffee and fresh sandwiches drew him in, and as we ascended the escalator, I figured we could pass my dream shoes in just 30 seconds after we refuelled.

A man with a full belly is a happy man – and a man open to bribery. Near the cafe was a huge Apple store with plenty of shiny laptops and iPads murmuring sweet nothings. Attention diverted from Fair Isle knitwear, Victor swung his hips through the door and took a lungful of Broadband. A London escort such as me must have patience as a virtue: the patience to accept her needs comes after those of her date. I watched Victor dribble over a MacBook Pro and counted down the minutes until I could lick the heel of that display shoe.

And then… a boom! Victor kissed my forehead and said, “Darling, you have been patient with me today. Let me buy a present for my beautiful girl. Shall we look at something for you?” I could have wept. “Oh, you don’t have to do that…” I said through my lashes. He made a pooh-pooh noise, and we fell into step… right past Kurt Geiger. And there they were… in the window, dazzling under the lights as I knew they would be… my shoes. Ten minutes later, I had a shiny gift bag dangling from my arm, and my date looked very pleased with himself as I let him “choose” a pair, though I can’t say product placement didn’t play a part.

Call me manipulative, then, if you want, but you can’t say that my gentleman friend wasn’t pleased to make me happy. The date had, as always, been about him and a trip to W12. I’m a big fan of West London, especially now that I know Kurt Geiger has a fantastic store there!

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When you have regular clients who need to re-book you for specific functions, you have to keep on your toes and bring change into the ‘relationship’ more than ever. I always attend Scott’s work, family, and social arrangements as his girlfriend, but to keep the booking, I have to keep him interested, just as you would in an actual relationship. This is why I’m single. These things are hard work.

Scott is a 40-something billionaire who loves to maintain appearances. He lets his staff run his hotel empire and reaps the rewards by holidaying on his private island, lounging in his luxury mansion in Hampstead and shopping in New York for the afternoon. He uses me as his long-term girlfriend stand-in. In reality, he has no interest in forming a relationship with someone he doesn’t know, who may only be after his money.

In my mind, it’s classic real commitment issues, but what do I know? I’m a London escort, not a psychologist! So, he takes me to work functions, family weddings, press nights, and the works, but he also brings me shopping to cater to such arrangements. That’s why, to keep this gig, I need to up my game.

As you know, I’m a very proud brunette, but when he mentions that he finds a particular blonde celebrity attractive, I crack out my favourite Barbie wig and act out any fantasy he wants. He loves the fact that he doesn’t even have to ask. Sometimes, when you spend a lot of time with a client, you do pick up on certain things. Whether they like olives, whether they prefer Gucci to Dior, whether they book a hotel more in Mayfair than in Knightsbridge and whether they respond in pleasure at being tickled just under the…

We have a great partnership with Scott. I have even managed to wrap his very protective Mother around my little finger. Little does she know that the boy is having a faux relationship with a top call girl! We have learned to walk in time with one another, laugh at the same things and finish each other’s sentences. We have been on many dinner and drink dates to get to know each other in such a way.

What can I say? I’m a dedicated woman.

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Sunday is generally a day to relax and recharge for the week ahead, but it can also be a wonderful opportunity to enjoy some fun, flirtation, and a little mischief. As the last day of the week, it’s a perfect time to reflect on what’s been, and turn any leftover negativity into something positive. Why not make this Sunday memorable and start the new week with a big smile?

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