Day 4 of 100 pleats and you find me in a ‘happy hippy’ mood ……..all
‘love and peace and flowers in my hair ‘
Back in my youth, I almost always wore a flower in my hair. Usually this was a real bloom and, during the summer, it was always a rose. ….Well, how do you think I got my nickname ………. ROSIE …….. ?
I was a teenager during the best era of all …..the fabulous 1960s……….when everything seemed possible. It was a glorious time; when youth finally broke free from restraints. Until then, to be young was just to be a carbon copy of your parents.
Look at any picture of 1940s/1950s teenagers and you will see what I mean. They dressed in the same clothes and did their hair the same way as people twice their age.
But then things changed.
And what a change,…………..
Suddenly we were wearing ‘younger’ clothes ……mini skirts and white Courreges boots. Flowing ‘Biba’ smocks and little ‘Mary Quant’ shifts. Out went the stilletto heels and in came sweet little flat Dolly shoes. Bras were burned and girdles were discarded …….. it was bliss !
I remember being in London during that time …… full of ‘Art-studenty’ confidence with my asymmetric ‘Vidal Sassoon’ bob and my ‘Twiggy-style’ make-up. ……… Swinging down Carnaby Street on the arm of my French boy-friend while, all around us, the streets resonated with the sound of ‘The Kinks’ and people celebrating England’s World Cup success. I thought I was the coolest girl on the planet. It was magical …….
I adored the clothes …..and I tried all the styles from the chic little skirt-suits and tiny dresses of the ‘mods’ to the long, dramatic gypsy skirts and almost transparent fabrics of the ‘ hippy’ . And, of course, my hair was styled accordingly !
Now I am older….much older than I care to remember …..but I have never lost my penchant for the dramatic statement. I have never worried about being different …..never worried about conforming. And so …..I am happy to wear flowers in my hair …….or anything else that takes my fancy. And I still wear flowing skirts …..or whatever else I want.
Life is too short to fuss over such things ……..don’t you agree ?
And here is a very short story about dressing up…..well…….sort of …….
WHO’S GOING TO DRIVE ME HOME
It was bitterly cold on the street corner and I wished I had worn my long black leather boots, they would have been so much cosier and would have spared my blushes far more than these flimsy black stockings and high heels.
I walked up and down the pavement and craned my neck to see if the car was still there, sooner or later I would have to approach it, unless someone else came along.
Some youths were standing around a glowing brazier, warming their hands and watching me with amused expressions. They leered as I smoothed my tight skirt over my hips and a drunk, sprawled on the nearby church steps, called out some lewd comment.
Hmmm, despite the presence of the dilapidated old church, this was not the holiest of places, but that was the attraction, the reason I was here. The whole area had a sort of wild lawlessness about it. I have always been quite lucky and I knew that, usually, it was easy to find a ‘customer’………. but tonight it was so cold that most people must be at home, watching TV or preparing for bed.
An empty beer can rolled down the gutter and I peered across the street to the parked car.
Half an hour had passed and it was still there. I knew what the driver was looking for, there was only one reason people cruised this area, parking up until they found a girl………… But he hadn’t noticed me !
I adjusted my skirt and checked the seams in my stockings and began to walk towards the car.
The dark, tinted windows gave it a menacing air and I was on the point of turning away, but I had a job to do. I needed to earn some money and, distasteful as it seemed…… this was why I was here.
I walked to the drivers door and tapped on the window and as it slowly opened I handed the startled man a parking ticket !