Dear Miss Poptoe,
On the first occasion that I wrote to you, you responded by pointing out that I had committed a malapropism when I inadvertently addressed you as “Miss Peeptoe”. I had advised you that such flibberty gibberty footwear is inappropriate for the inclement autumnal weather, and this advice is still pertinent.
May I suggest that you despatch your abigail to the gun room where she will find, amidst the shooting sticks, Labradors and game keepers, the stout brogues and galoshes that I sent you last winter. I do understand that these are not the instinctive apparel of choice de nos jours for you skittish young things, and everyone to their own taste as the old woman said as she kissed the cow, so I’ll say no more on that subject.
I am, of course, presuming that you are conversant with the term ‘peeptoe’. It was a mode of shoe that was popular in my girlhood’s summer days, as its open fronted style had a cooling effect on the foot. Some of the giddier amongst us increased the aerating properties by (and I write the following in hushed tones) removing our hosiery, thus exposing their bare toes to the astonished gaze of their escorts. Of course those who more chastely remained fully clad were in danger of suffering the embarrassment of a “poptoe”. This lamentable condition arose when lax pedicures caused the toes to protrude obscenely through the silk – urgh! I shudder at the very thought, so no more.
I should remark that your great aunt is knitting you a pair of serviceable ribbed woollen half-hose to wear with the brogues. Goodness me, this leg wear evokes fond memories of a period in my youth, but I’ll keep them for another time.