|Such a pretty petticoat|
There was a time when I would come home from school at lunchtime and iron my skirts to get rid of the wrinkles from sitting at a desk all morning. It's almost inconceivable to me today, to think of how important it was to me. I had a pink crinoline much like this one, and I have a memory of starching it in the bathtub and hanging it out to dry on the clothesline.
There are not many people who remember the days when it was not okay for a young lady to walk around without a girdle, either. Oh, I remember so well pulling that awful torture device up my legs, wiggling my teeny-tiny little derriere into it, all for the sake of fashion. I am so glad that they are gone, long gone.
A young woman gave me a pedicure yesterday and I asked her where she was from. She was born in Vietnam, she said, as most of the young ladies who work there were. I told her I had visited Vietnam twice. She asked me when, and I told her it was in the early 1990s. "Oh, so long ago," she exclaimed. I realized that to her, it was ancient history. She wasn't even born until 1994! To me, it seems like just a few years ago. We looked at each other and marveled. Me, that she could be so grown up at 22, and her, well, who knows what she thought of the old lady in her chair?