Inclinations

My time in the British army and RNZAF (Royal New Zealand Air Force) meant that I mixed with all sorts and conditions of men, and as they are part of our common humanity I've written this item in an attempt to record some of these gay and joyful observations.

The residence at Hursley on the road heading north to Winchester, was just what I'd wanted. Nice location. Excellent condition and the accommodation flat on the end meant I could have someone there for company. My lawyer friend would help me organise all that. I gave a twirl round the rooms I was so pleased with myself. At last I could settle down and follow my own inclinations. (What a gorgeous word that is!)

That night I retired with a feeling of satisfaction and excitement. After I'd unpacked my wardrobe, I planned to explore my new surroundings with a trip along the motorway to my old stamping ground at Winchester. So, with a word of thanks on my lips to my dear non-judgemental, understanding, Aunt Phoebe, I nestled down to sleep in my luxurious new bed.

About mid-morning the following day, I surveyed the badly rumpled state of my wardrobe and could have cried. Well, I did cry. After all the care I'd taken packing. Those brutes of carriers must have thrown my three portmanteaus into their van with as much thought as they took to dress themselves. Really. It made me so cross. I'd tipped them well enough too. There was nothing for it, I took time off for a gin and tonic and rang my friend Hugh. He's a real pet. Just hearing his voice did wonders in calming my nerves.

I followed his advice, pressed and hung everything and by the time that was done, it was too late to think of Winchester. Instead, I took a stroll and ended up sipping a crème de menthe in Tony's, a boutique in the centre of Hursley. The place was crowded with old ecclesiasticals. There was no getting away from my immediate past it seemed. To be honest, I didn't want to. It had been a mistake in a way. Seven cloistered years is quite a slice out of anyone's life. And at thirty-five I was not that old. But I was wiser and had learned a great deal about fabrics and design.

I thought another blessing on dear Aunt Phoebe and decided to splash out on the latest in Swedish sewing machines. The lounge needed new curtains but I'd start with the crushed silk I'd just purchased. I couldn't resist the feel of it nor the assistant with the softest blue eyes as he murmured: 'Do you have the inclination to try this, sir?'

I'll be popping ‘round again of course; they do carry the most delightful range of materials.

Two days later, as I sat wondering what I might do by way of design, a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet came to mind:

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy but not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy, for the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Willy was so right. It gave me an idea and an hour or so later, I'd completed the first evening garment that made me famous in the rag trade. It really was stunning.

A vote of thanks to Aunt Phoebe's generosity remembering me in her will. My shop opened in Hurley's main street in time for the influx of summer visitors to several abbeys in the vicinity. Private sales surprised us all. The first, held at the Royal Hussars Museum proved profitable. I could hardly drag myself away, all those lovely men in their splendid uniforms. Orders followed from the Hampshire Regiment Barracks. There was nothing ordinary about the soldiers I helped into and out of the range of materials I offered there.

I had to return several days later to take orders from staff and seniors at several colleges in the vicinity as well. There was no stopping things from then on. My label: 'Abbot's Fancy' took off like you wouldn't believe. I mean, drag queens and famous people I can't possibly name, adore the idea of wearing my design based on a monk's habit. My old abbot at Winchester and other abbots throughout Hampshire and further afield complaining as they did on TV and in the press, increased my turnover 200%. Though most of them popped in at the back door later, as it were.

The young assistant with those soft blue eyes who'd helped me select the mauve crushed silk, has come in with me. He's a classy dresser and looks so sweet in mauve. I have a reminder of his first words to me inscribed inside the ring he gave me: ‘Inclination’. It's such a nice word.

Oh, by the way, should you wish to follow your own inclination, you'll find me on the internet and in the yellow pages. My new shops go under the name: ‘Habits: nice but nocturnal’.

'Bye for now.

Dennis Crompton © 1999
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)