PETTICOATS AND PIGTAILS
My eye’s popped open, it was early but I was wide awake. I was eight years old and today was to be a special day.
Last night, Mom helped me wash my hair. Then I took a bath and she checked to make sure my neck and ears were clean. A place I always seemed to miss, much to her dismay. My neck and ears passed inspection, I was clean enough to go shopping for a new dress.
I’m sure that in todays world, a shopping trip for an eight year old would not be a big deal, but in 1950 for me, it definitely was.
We lived on a farm twenty miles from Ogden, Utah, the nearest large city. I’m sure I had been to Ogden before, but those occasions were far and few between. We would have gone shopping for school clothes, other times buying only underwear, socks and shoes. Mom made my dresses and even my petticoats. How I envied the girls at school, as they proudly showed off their new dresses, bought from the store. They never made fun of my dresses, only the petticoats that Mom made out of the backs of my Dad’s old flannel shirts. No, they were not very pretty nor silky feeling. They did serve the purpose and in winter added a layer of warmth.
Today I was going shopping for a dress, a store bought dress, a dress to wear to my brother’s wedding.
Saturday shoppers crowded the sidewalks as Mom held tightly to my hand because I was so busy looking around at everyone and everything, she was afraid of losing me. We went to JC Penny’s department store and straight to the girls dresses. The saleslady helped by bringing a few dresses in my size. Mom sorted through the dresses and gave some back to the clerk. They were too fancy and had to be washed by hand. The dress we bought had to be nice but also one I could wear to school after the wedding.
I tried on three or four dresses that day. Standing in front of a full length mirror, for the first time, I shyly turned around, one way and then the other, looking at the dress from all angles. I wondered about the scrawny little girl in the mirror, yes, me, my nose covered with freckles, and my hair in pigtails. Would the dress make me pretty, like the girls at school, in their store bought dresses?
I did try on one dress that had ruffles and lace. It was kind of scratchy, but it had a full skirt and made me feel like Cinderella or a fairy tale princess. I lost some of my shyness, twirling around in front of the mirror, almost falling down. Mom caught me and we laughed. Now I was being silly. Finally I tried on the last dress. It was made of cotton fabric, green plaid with a white Peter Pan collar. I knew that this was the dress I would choose. It was all the things it had to be; washable, no ruffles or frills, a gathered skirt, but not too full, a darker color so the dirt wouldn’t show, and it would be comfortable to wear all day at school.
That day along with the dress, we bought white anklets and black patent leather shoes to complete my outfit. I wondered about a petticoat, but knew I should be satisfied with the new dress and shoes.
That night after supper I brought out the sack and proudly showed Daddy the new dress and shoes that I had for the wedding. He admired the purchase, patted my shoulder, and went back to reading his paper.
Later that evening, when I was ready for bed, dressed in my flannel pajamas, Daddy kissed me, gave me a big hug and said, “Goodnight my Princess.” It was then I realized that being a princess didn’t mean wearing frilly dresses and silk petticoats. Plain old flannel pajamas would do the trick.
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