When high heels ruled

Went to yet another funeral last week and it brought back memories of another era, another time. This lady's parents were tennis club friends of my parents, but we were a generation apart. How well I remember the cocktail parties my parents and her parents gave -- or was it "threw"? The sounds of clinking crystal, cigarette smoke wafting up into our bedrooms, the smell of furniture polish, the laughter, the nail polish (bright red, of course), the canapes, the rigor of the event and the gay abandon that went along with it. Her name was Anne Craig and she was the eldest of three sisters -- all totally gorgeous. I looked up to them when I was a kid and wanted to be just like them. The middle sister died a couple of years ago, but the youngest was there and as gorgeous as ever. Now in her seventies with five kids and lots of grandchidren, she still looked like the teenaged Ailsa that I adored. You know how young girls are in love with older ones? Well, that was me with Ailsa. I was completely in love with her.

The mother was the one with the style and she passed it onto her girls. I loved visiting them. I would sneak into Lillian's bedroom and try on all her jewelry. She was the first woman who wore fabulous costume jewelry. Bite me Shepherd's. Big clunky bracelets, junky necklaces, huge earrings. And perfume! I can still smell it when I think of Mrs. Craig. She had dyed blonde hair and wore the most hollywood high heels I had ever seen. I used to try them on too and parade around clunking and bumping into things. She was the complete opposite of my mother -- the darling latter of the pearls and the simple gold rings. Lillian Craig also wore lots of makeup and I can still see her twinkling eyes, laughing above the reddest of lips.

Her husband, Billy, Anne, Rosemary and Ailsa's father, was another kettle of fish. He was a cockney and the doorman at the Chateau all his life. Thinking back, Lillian Craig married "down" as they say. She may have been pregnant, but whatever the reason, they were an odd couple. He was so charming, but given a little too much to drink now and then. Never mind, they consistently lived above their means and gave the best parties. I used to spend weekends with them and just loved playing dress-up.

Rosemary, the middle sister, was drop-dead, movie star gorgeous and married a doctor from Boston. Whenever Rosemary and Jack visited, all stops were out. She died before Anne and now only Ailsa remains of the fabulous Craig girls. The reception was at the Rideau Tennis Club, where we all grew up. The memories came flooding back. My dad and Billy Craig used to play tennis every Saturday morning and sneak a couple of beers into the locker room to enjoy after their match. At that time the club had no licence. Dad and Billy were an unlikely duo. My dad, the renowned scientist and Billy, the doorman, were united by a love of tennis, plain and simple.

When I embraced Ailsa at her sister's funeral last week I felt as if I were embracing a lost generation. We don't see each other in our everyday lives, but the love of our parents and of an era now gone loomed large as my tears welled.