I feel it is time to offer a lighter side to my blogs. A brief personal look at fashion over the last eighty years from the war years onwards.
These are some reflective thoughts on aspects of fashion over my lifetime. I have touched on the fashion era of the 1960’s in an earlier blog.
While fashion is constantly changing, it is often just a return to an old style, perhaps in new material.
Born in 1937, I was three when my father was called up into the Royal Air Force and trained as a ground wireless operator. He was then posted to the Naga Hills of Burma.
My mother received a small amount of regular money to live on, part of my father’s military pay. Her mother, my Nain, had to take to her bed and needed care. My mother and I moved in to provide the help. Things were tough and you had to be resourceful. Every Good Friday morning my mother went to the market in Wrexham and bought a box of chicks and a couple of cockerels. As a result, we had eggs and, when later required for Christmas, a chicken or cockerel for the table. The garden, somewhat overgrown, has gooseberry bushes, black currents and a cooking apple tree. All helped during the war with rationing but the one thing my mother cherished was her Singer sewing machine.
Self-taught, she became well known around the village. As I well recall, on occasional Monday mornings there would be a knock on the back door. Standing there would be a lady with a little girl. The lady would have an old coat of hers over her arm. She would explain to my mother that at Chapel the day before, it had been announced that next Sunday was the Chapel’s Anniversary Day and her little girl was taking part. The lady asked if my mother could make a coat for her daughter from her old coat. My mother never refused any requests of this nature. She would then measure the little girl and promise to have a coat ready by the weekend. That day, she would unpick the coat, place the pieces in our bath and wash them with soapy water. Then onto the garden washing line to dry. A new coat was ready for fitting during the week. I was the delivery boy if needed. My mother always had the problem of how much to charge for her work, knowing how little money was around in mining families before the NCB took over all the private pits in 1947. My role was to take a piece of the material to the local shop to buy a reel of close matching Sylco cotton. Over the years it included bias binding, ricrac, buttons, certain length zip fasteners and other haberdashery items.
For years, my mother was called upon to dress the annual village pantomime performers, Rose-Show Queens and their entourages, brides’ and bridesmaids’ dresses and many more village events. There is a long poem about my mother in BOOK ONE of POEMS BY AN OLD CODGER.
Men’s new fashion also began. A knock on our back door and there would be a young man holding a brand-new pair of trousers. It was the era of ‘drain pipe’ trousers and could my mother taper the trouser legs by Saturday. The era of drain pipe trousers and winklepicker shoes. That fashion moved to flared trousers. Turn-ups disappeared.
Today, the internet and the world-wide web has opened up fashion ideas from across the world, influencing many young followers to push the boundaries of what many old codgers would call decency!
I will conclude this blog with a light hearted poem which many parents will find familiar. It is in BOOK SIX of my POEMS BY AN OLD CODGER on AMAZON BOOKS.
YOU’RE NOT GOING OUT DRESSED LIKE THAT
You’re not going out dressed like that,
Your shirt needs washing and ironing flat.
You’re not going out dressed like that,
The pattern makes you look old and fat.
You’re not going out dressed like that,
Your jacket can now accommodate two for a chat.
You’re not going out dressed like that,
I wouldn’t be seen dead in that coat and hat.
This old codger has reached an age,
Where comfort over-rules the fashion page.
But our young are subject to fashion imagery,
Beyond a level of decency.
You’re not going out dressed like that,
The hem’s too short and that’s a fact.
Some advice, I’m trying to be kind,
But it’s not a nice sight from behind.
You’re not going out dressed like that,
Just sit down here we need to chat.
‘You’re not going out dressed like that’,
How many parents have armed for combat,
As they prepare for an adolescent domestic fray.
But we all know fashion of the day does not stay.
It’s that period of experimentation,
An element of teenage elation.
Freedom to put a toe in the modern world,
Independence from always being told.
‘You’re not going out dressed like that!’
And that’s final.
Copyright 2023 Neil Davies.
…………
I hope that you have enjoyed this poem.
If so, please tell your friends, and better still, buy my books*.
Proceeds from the sales of my books are going to –
The British Red Cross Ukraine Appeal
Thank you,
Stay safe,
Neil.