Okay, guys, you can skip this one. It probably won’t be of any interest to you unless you want to get in touch with your feminine side or understand where your wife is coming from. In high school most of the guys were only interested in having something clean to wear, and how long you could let your hair grow over your ears before you got caught. Personally I think all men would be better persons if they put themselves through the experience of struggling into a paneled girdle or a pair of support panty hose. But please do it in the privacy of your home. I guarantee you will be a more sympathetic human being and more in touch with what we women go through to look nice.

In the late 60s and early 70s, society was on the verge of loose, natural and comfortable clothes and hair for women but we had not quite made it yet. This much more sane way of dressing fully bloomed in the mid 70s. Some high school girls at Mac were already forging ahead and embracing the more “natural” look, but too many of us were stuck in that rut trying to come to school every day dressed and made up like Jackie Kennedy.

Let’s begin at the beginning with the “foundations.” Almost all the way through high school, I struggled into one of those panel girdles on a daily basis, and wrestling yourself  into one of those things was not easy. They were TIGHT and it was quite a workout to get the thing all the way up and settled. As most of us were still pretty slender and less than 20% body fat (???), why did we even wear those things? Mind-boggling. Then came the stockings, fastened by garters (pantyhose had not made it onto the scene yet …) even if it was going to be over 100 degrees outside. Those stockings often bagged at the knees and ankles.   Very attractive.

The clothes: these were not just clothes that we carelessly threw on every morning to go off to school. They were carefully selected and coordinated outfits that we spent obscene amounts of time shopping for and purchasing. Remember that girls always wore dresses until our senior year when we were allowed to wear pants, but only with a long concealing tunic style top so we would not enflame the boys with our feminine charms. Most dresses were tailored, with collars, sewn in waists, belts and the works. All we lacked were hats and gloves. Your shoes had to coordinate with the dress, and your purse had to coordinate with your shoes.   I changed my purse almost on a daily basis. I had my standards. Our shoes were “pumps” and had nothing to do with comfort, only appearance.

One of the goals was not to wear the same thing for more than two weeks, preferably more. Quantity was as important as quality. If your parents could afford it, you bought your clothes at Joske’s, Frost Bros., Wolff & Marx or Carl’s. JC Penney, Sears and Lerner’s were out, though I did sneak in a few outfits from those second class stores.

I was fortunate in that my mother was a master seamstress and could sew anything . A huge pleasure was going through the Vogue patterns book, designing the garment in my mind and having my mother make it reality. She made me some marvelous unique dresses that I thoroughly enjoyed wearing.

The make-up: This ranged from minimal to clownish. Some girls wore SO much makeup that was SO unnecessary on teen skin. Your basics were full base, blush, eye shadow, liner and mascara. Occasionally, out would come the false eyelashes, but gluing those things on was just too much, even for me. I wore them very little. We were going for the Carnaby Street Twiggy look. 

The hair: This was the most torturous thing we put ourselves through. We did not just “fix” our hair. We sculpted it. On went the hard plastic rollers every night. Some girls used orange juice cans. You slept in the things. Hard to believe, but you could actually get used to those things pressing into your skull all night. The brush-out was not just do it and go. You brushed it out, ratted it up and glued it down with hairspray. An F-5 tornado could not have moved that hair once we were done. If your hair was curly, you straightened it. Some girls ironed their hair on the ironing board. And the permanents. Was there anything worse than those permanents? The smell, the mess, the drips, and your hair looked like a brillo soap pad afterwards. In the sophomore year (?) some girls started wearing “falls” which were fake long hair. You either pulled your hair back and fastened the fall on top of it, or brushed the front sections up over the top of the fall and secured it with a huge clip. It was quite an operation and when I wore mine, I had to have my mother’s help. It took so long I often missed my bus, and poor Dad had to drive me on to school.

When I went off to college the madness ended .   Protest and social consciousness were growing. Thus, hair rollers flew out the window and we wore shorts or long flowing comfortable skirts to class every day. Sandals or Keds were the footwear. We frequented the army navy store. What freedom it was to be able to concentrate on things other than your appearance, such as ending the Vietnam War and spreading love and peace. Of course, it helped that I was living in the funky capital of the world: Austin.   Today I rarely own more than 6-7 outfits and could not care a twit about how often I am seen in the same thing. I troll resale shops for most of my clothes. Make-up? What’s that? I bulge out in all the wrong places. Now I could probably REALLY use one of those girdles, but I wouldn’t touch one with a barge pole.

Freedom … it’s like a breath of fresh air.