Before too long it seemed to become very common to see men and boys wearing skirts and dresses.

At the university and at a number of schools it soon became almost the norm. There was intense pressure on everyone to show their support by insisting on the new dress code. Boys who would not long ago would have been horrified at the thought of wearing a skirt now attended school wearing a little pleated gym skirt. Boys at university wore ever shorter mini-skirts.

Capitalising on this, a number of pubs and bars introduced new dress codes. Only those men wearing a skirt or dress were allowed in. Women continued to be admitted whatever they were wearing. That lead to the somewhat strange situation where a man could go to a bar, in his skirt or dress, and find the women in the bar were wearing jeans.

I talked to Peggy about this new trend. Her café was struggling, and I suggested that adopting these new dress code rules might be a way of standing out, and introducing new custom.

She agreed to try it, on the condition that I came along as many evenings as I could wearing a skirt or dress. I'm pretty sure she was teasing me, but I had always been keen that her business should succeed, so I agreed.

I turned up that evening in one of the skirts Peggy had leant me, but she told me, with a smile on her face, that it was fine for work, but not really the sort of thing to be worn on a night out. She took me upstairs to her apartment and had me try on a couple of dresses she’d selected for me. In the end we settled on what women called ‘a little black number’. It was quite figure hugging, and only came down to my mid-thigh. She asked, I think jokingly, if I’d like to borrow a pair of tights, or try a little make-up, but I declined.

The evening was quite a success, although I felt terribly self-conscious in the dress. Quite a few students turned up, the boys conspicuously in what most people would have thought of as fairly tarty outfits – mini-skirts and fishnets, a few were even wearing make-up. A part of me wished I had the bravado of youth to carry off such attire, and there were admiring glances from many of the women present.

Over the next few weeks trade really picked up, with not only students but a more mature clientele also starting to frequent the place. Peggy asked me to help out by waiting tables and serving behind the bar, and I was happy to help my friend.

It soon became apparent that the way I was dressed, in a dress and a pair of training shoes, was a bit at odds with how much of the clientele was dressed, and Peggy asked me if I’d feel more comfortable fitting in a bit better.

I asked her what she meant, and she said it might be better if I either shaved my legs, or at least wore black tights. I could see her point, but I didn’t fancy shaving my legs, so I opted for the tights. She also suggested that a pair of low-heeled court shoes might look better than my trainers, and we ordered a pair from one of the Chinese manufacturers who were quick to capitalise on this new market for larger-sized women’s shoes. I even gave in and let her apply a little make-up to my face when I was working.