by Monica Graz
I was standing in front of Signora, head slightly bowed, hands crossed in front of my apron. As usual, I was all messy after a whole morning of scrubbing and cleaning, but Signora couldn’t care less. I was there to serve her and strictly follow orders regardless of how demeaning they could be.
- How are you doing with your Filipino education, Molly? - she asked rather casually. - Is your Tagalog improving? Conchita believes that you are an eager pupil though you have so much Western influence in you that becoming an Asian girl requires probably more drastic steps.
I looked at her timidly, not knowing once more how to answer to that, not to mention that my poor Italian was a constant obstacle to fully expressing myself.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Story: Departing from Milan. Part 1.
by Monica GrazPART 1
I was dressed in a quite simple manner when Conchita took me out to meet her Filipino friends that warm Sunday afternoon. It has been the first time I wasn’t wearing my maid’s uniform since I arrived in Signora’s house two months ago; the first day I had the chance to go out as a ‘normal person’.
Since I had no other clothes except my maid’s uniforms, Conchita gave me an outfit to wear and I was dressed following her instructions. A pair of black cropped trousers, a pink polyester blouse of some sort of cheap glittery material, a pair of canvas shoes, a silver cross around my neck as my single piece of jewelry. I kept my jet black hair in a tight high ponytail and I had very little makeup on simply to emphasize my more oriental looking eyes.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Story: Arriving in Milan. Part 8.
by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are
written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4, 5 and 6 and Part 7 are by Monica Graz)
It was mid morning three weeks later and once more I was mopping the floor, this never ending repetitive job of a maidservant. I was as usually in a disheveled form, wearing my cheap light blue chlorine stained poly cotton dress, my equally stained apron and my rough-looking clogs. I still wasn’t allowed to use rubber gloves and my permanently red hands started developing small calluses. They were the hands of a manual domestic laborer by now.
I stopped once more in front of the hallway mirror and looked at myself. I still couldn’t believe how different I looked. A completely transformed person looked back at me; a Filipino maid looked back at me! I was a transformed person because under Signora’s strict instructions I had a complete makeover. Her idea of turning me into a proper servant in all aspects was to make me resemble a South East Asian woman and completely separate me from my white European origins. My longish hair was dyed raven black, my eyes got a more oriental look with some sort of permanent makeup and my skin became several shades darker with the use of a special solution that wears out very slowly, something like a permanent tan.
In the mean time I was not allowed to speak English any more. I had to communicate with anyone I came in contact with in my poor Italian. As Signora said I needed a limited vocabulary to perform my duties as a servant, there was no need for me to participate in elaborate intellectual conversations. Though I tried to improve my Italian by studying it hard every night, being deprived from my native language was quite a blow. I did start feeling more like an immigrant domestic worker in an alien environment.
It was mid morning three weeks later and once more I was mopping the floor, this never ending repetitive job of a maidservant. I was as usually in a disheveled form, wearing my cheap light blue chlorine stained poly cotton dress, my equally stained apron and my rough-looking clogs. I still wasn’t allowed to use rubber gloves and my permanently red hands started developing small calluses. They were the hands of a manual domestic laborer by now.
I stopped once more in front of the hallway mirror and looked at myself. I still couldn’t believe how different I looked. A completely transformed person looked back at me; a Filipino maid looked back at me! I was a transformed person because under Signora’s strict instructions I had a complete makeover. Her idea of turning me into a proper servant in all aspects was to make me resemble a South East Asian woman and completely separate me from my white European origins. My longish hair was dyed raven black, my eyes got a more oriental look with some sort of permanent makeup and my skin became several shades darker with the use of a special solution that wears out very slowly, something like a permanent tan.
In the mean time I was not allowed to speak English any more. I had to communicate with anyone I came in contact with in my poor Italian. As Signora said I needed a limited vocabulary to perform my duties as a servant, there was no need for me to participate in elaborate intellectual conversations. Though I tried to improve my Italian by studying it hard every night, being deprived from my native language was quite a blow. I did start feeling more like an immigrant domestic worker in an alien environment.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Story: Arriving in Milan. Part 7.
by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are
written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4, 5 and 6 are by Monica Graz)
I hurriedly turned back to my cleaning job, wiping the window glass with a special soft tissue to eliminate all marks when I heard Signora’s authoritative voice, “Molly, come here at once, Signorina Connolly has some questions for you.”
“Subito Signora,” I answered with a slightly raised voice as I started descending from my short ladder. I wiped my wet hands to my already badly stained apron and tried to straighten up my uniform dress but I knew I looked quite disheveled after all those hours of constant manual work.
I quickly approached the two ladies sitting comfortably in the plush armchairs and I curtseyed as expected, saying in my pigeon Italian, “Prego Signora.”
“You are allowed to speak in English with Miss Connolly and answer her questions truthfully and to the point girl,” Signora said in her haughty manner.
I hurriedly turned back to my cleaning job, wiping the window glass with a special soft tissue to eliminate all marks when I heard Signora’s authoritative voice, “Molly, come here at once, Signorina Connolly has some questions for you.”
“Subito Signora,” I answered with a slightly raised voice as I started descending from my short ladder. I wiped my wet hands to my already badly stained apron and tried to straighten up my uniform dress but I knew I looked quite disheveled after all those hours of constant manual work.
I quickly approached the two ladies sitting comfortably in the plush armchairs and I curtseyed as expected, saying in my pigeon Italian, “Prego Signora.”
“You are allowed to speak in English with Miss Connolly and answer her questions truthfully and to the point girl,” Signora said in her haughty manner.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Story: Arriving in Milan. Parts 5 and 6.
PART 5
by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4 are by Monica Graz)
I was very conscious of my appearance as I was wondering around, a permanent smile glued to my face, a tray in my hand, offering to the guests champagne and the
delicious little canapés prepared by Conchita.
For the first time in my life I was so publicly exposed as a maid in front of so many people. I was fully aware of my black uniform dress my little white apron and my tiny white cap pinned on my hair. I had very little make up on, just a touch of lipstick and some mascara. Signora was adamant about that; a maid shouldn’t look like a tart. The cotton white gloves cleverly were hiding my rough working hands.
They were all sorts of people there, from bankers to young but prominent artists, ‘la crème de la crème’ of Milanese society as Signora mentioned to us in the kitchen, without a trace of modesty in her voice. As I was wondering around I noticed that she was watching me like a hawk for a possible ‘faux pas’.
by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte, Parts 3 and 4 are by Monica Graz)
I was very conscious of my appearance as I was wondering around, a permanent smile glued to my face, a tray in my hand, offering to the guests champagne and the
delicious little canapés prepared by Conchita.
For the first time in my life I was so publicly exposed as a maid in front of so many people. I was fully aware of my black uniform dress my little white apron and my tiny white cap pinned on my hair. I had very little make up on, just a touch of lipstick and some mascara. Signora was adamant about that; a maid shouldn’t look like a tart. The cotton white gloves cleverly were hiding my rough working hands.
They were all sorts of people there, from bankers to young but prominent artists, ‘la crème de la crème’ of Milanese society as Signora mentioned to us in the kitchen, without a trace of modesty in her voice. As I was wondering around I noticed that she was watching me like a hawk for a possible ‘faux pas’.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Story: When Lightening Strikes: A Model Maid
Thanks to T.H.Enerdly I was able to recover this 1998 story from a now defunct website. I believe this is the first lady-to-maid transformation story that I've read. It was later turned into a comic (with a somewhat changed storyline) - I posted it here - but this original story is what got me interested in the topic initially.
When Lightening Strikes: A Model Maid
By: ROBO
Cindy Crawford sat down the paper unread on her lap. She heard her Chinese immigrant maid Mimi come in with the groceries. The girl had been with her for 3 months and her English had improved somewhat, but she was still hard to understand with her heavy Chinese accent.
She called, "Mimi!"
The tiny woman came in and bowed "Yes, Miss Crawford."
"Would you bring me a Pepsi please, a diet Pepsi of course I have to watch my figure."
When Lightening Strikes: A Model Maid
By: ROBO
Cindy Crawford sat down the paper unread on her lap. She heard her Chinese immigrant maid Mimi come in with the groceries. The girl had been with her for 3 months and her English had improved somewhat, but she was still hard to understand with her heavy Chinese accent.
She called, "Mimi!"
The tiny woman came in and bowed "Yes, Miss Crawford."
"Would you bring me a Pepsi please, a diet Pepsi of course I have to watch my figure."
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Story: Arriving in Milan. Parts 3 and 4.
Monica Graz has picked up the story of Julia, a young and educated English girl who willingly becomes a maid to a demanding Italian mistress, where the author of the original, Lady Charlotte, left it. Here are the next two chapters. PART 3 by Monica Graz (Parts 1 and 2 are written by Lady Charlotte)
As I resumed my scrubbing the floor Signora came back and said rather condescendingly, “And Molly make sure you change to a clean uniform dress before you go shopping, you look too dirty and disheveled at the moment. I want my maids to be presentable to the outside world.”
“Si Signora,” I answered dutifully not knowing enough Italian to say that I had no clean uniform dress left, my other two day dresses and several aprons were even dirtier and I was planning to do a serious laundry after the end of my working hours.
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