March 17, 2014

What We Wear

June, 1960.  Margaret.  The day I joined the Army.  Photo: USArmy.

My mental jog into the past this morning was stirred up by an act of rebellion from Tabor.  On her last day in Junior High School, she wore jeans to school.  That truly was a revolutionary act in the 1960’s.  Me, I don’t remember many of my clothes at all or many acts of rebellion in my chhildhood.  I’m memoryless.

Perhaps it is a good thing that I remember so little of either my childhood or adult hood....tho pictures help.  When I was a kid, I wore one coat made by grandma, hand-me-downs, plus two new dresses in grade school.  My best friend Caroline had one dress just like mine.  I was in heaven.

I went from that school failure to one year of math training before I was shipped off to boarding school.  Mother got me in because she knew the headmistress and thought that this structured school could make a difference.  They didn’t know about learning disabilities in those days, and said it was all my fault.  I arrived at that school with used uniforms, one marvelous grey dress with a white pique collar and a plaid taffeta bow tie.  There was a wool pencil skirt, and a sweater set to match also.  Imagine.  I clearly remember the colors, the textures, and the fact that I machine washed those sweaters and they shrunk.  I remember the school, the art class, the reading, and the ongoing failures. 

That sky blue, shirt waist dress I wore the day I joined the Army was special.  So was the terra cotta, plaid wool dress I bought in Indianapolis. No, I don’t remember much about the Army’s Finance School.  I moved from that failure into pregnancy and hippydom.  I remember those clothes slightly better because I made most of them.  Didn’t all pseudo hippies sew?  You can tell I made this shift because the plaids don’t match.  I bet I never noticed then.  I do now.

1966, Maggie, photo Charlie Davis.

  • Himself:  Working hard first getting his radio working tho.

  • Herself:  Note that even our names change over the years.  Hit up JCPenny’s yesterday and got a good walk and new tennies for the trip.  G kept saying that the pair I picked was too big, but I know big foot comfort when I see it.  Waiting for Bobbie to arrive with stuff for the store, then a pick up the house day.

  • Reading:  Last of the Maggie Hope mysteries.

  • Balance:  Having a picked up home.  What more could I want.

    1. I have a good memory of the bad stuff. Now, I am working on my memory of the good stuff.

    2. My childhood memories are spotty at best. I am not surprised that I forget things as I have aged. I do remember that I started high school with one dress, one skirt, one blouse, a sweater set, coat, and those white bucks that were supposed to last all year. That was the year I started babysitting so I could buy clothes.

    3. I remember a few clothes too. Some are vivid and so very special. Loved the photos of you from the past.....

    4. For a gal who doesn't remember, you have a remarkable memory...and lots of good photos too. I lost much of my memory owing to EST. what docs did to women with postpartum depression back in the old days...1960s

    5. Love the picture of you as hippy. You look so happy. I loved that time, even though it was crazy.

    6. Look at beautiful you! I love seeing these older photos. I have very distinct memories about the clothes of my youth also. I love that Tabor's post kick-started this one for you.

    7. I think I am older than all of you. Our schools did not allow jeans for girls or boys, except on a "jeans" day, which was usually a fun day toward the end of the year.

      Girls had to wear dresses or skirts and blouses; I was fortunate because I had cousins whose parents could afford beautiful clothes that were handed down in good condition. But I am built funny (which is evidently my own fault), and my mother complained bitterly about making alterations.

      Eventually, all she did was pin up the hems, which I then sewed myself.

    8. You were and still are so freakin' CUTE!

    9. you are sooooo cute! and still sewing! I like that your plaids don't match and that you sew outside the box. revolutionary. xoxo c!

    10. I remember knitting a pair of socks for MTM's 21st Birthday.
      A true labour of love - but I had to darn them when I'd finished.


    What a delight to get a note from you. Thanks for leaving one.


    Peter in front of a wall sculpture.      Peter in front of a wall sculpture. We were invited up to Peter Knego’s home...