LetterFrom The Other Side, by Cynthia.
Written by Elizabeth.M.Thompson

Dear Del,
When did the revolution begin? I must have been gardening or otherwise engaged when this upheaval began.
Teddy and I were forced to go to the centre of the city last week on some business. It is where the large department stores and shopping malls spread their web shaped traps to catch the unwary impulse buyer and the bored and wealthy shop-a-holics.
Even we were enticed to wander aimlessly around the brightly lit spaces sputtering in amazement at the height of shoe heels, the price of costume jewellery and the strength of the ears needed to carry pendulous earrings which could strangle an ardent lover or at least remove his nose as he snuggles into the neck of the wearer.
We succumbed to the smell of coffee and paid as much for a muffin as it would cost me to make three trays of them but it was pleasant to watch the variety of the people passing. I did wish the young girls who insist on wearing the high heeled shoes would learn to walk in them properly instead of maintaining a permanent forty-five degree angle leaning forward as if they are about to dive from a tower.
While Teddy wandered off to his appointment I filled in time looking at electrical goods which seemed to have been selected from my mother’s 1950’s kitchen. The designs were all there, the cake mixer with its difficult to clean parts, the tiny tiles we happily tore off our walls during the eighties because they were such dreadful things to keep clean, the heavy cast iron pans and pots that no modern day ‘health and safety officer’ would approve because of the weight and which will, unless looked after very carefully, rust just as badly as our old ones did when Mum was so pleased to buy her aluminium set. Of course now aluminium is frowned on and we use stainless steel. Why bring back cast iron??
The next section my feet, firmly encased in their support hose and sensibly comfortable shoes took me to was the ladies lingerie department.
It was as if I had walked into Grandma’s wardrobe only now it had a great deal more colour.
Thirty years ago we metaphorically (most of us anyway) burned our bras. We opted for comfort which I have to admit created rather a lot of bodily sag and expanse, but we were not going to be trussed up like chooks as the generations of women before us had been. It made no sense in our day or in our climate.
Well, there before me in technicoloured rows were the padded, pusher-uppers, the wire reinforced, the plunging strapless, the waist cinching rib compressing body suits obviously devised to allow the tight fitting dress to slip silkily over the derriere to smooth out the cellulite and the saddlebag thighs.
The fashionister’s and vanity have prevailed over common sense again and won the war. The heat of our coming summer will ensure the girls wearing these garments will drop amongst the wilted leaves on the sidewalks when the temperatures reach into the high thirties and forties.
Although the fabric used is light and stretchy, it is not made of cotton like granny’s, it won’t allow the skin to breath or perspire naturally. Thank goodness for deodorants. A month of hot weather and pints of sweat should rot most of them away. ..Ladies of course become a trifle overheated, I forgot myself for a moment…Anyone foolish enough to hang them on a washing line on a hot day will find they disintegrate very rapidly.
No matter, it is a great marketing ploy. It keeps industry turning over. Not ours of course but the Chinese manufacturers and international owners of the stores.
My granddaughters were gob smacked to know there used to be uniformed beach inspectors trying to catch those who were brazen and brave enough to pollute our shores by wearing bikinis. My friends would hide amongst the sand dunes until the inspectors walked by. Soon there were too many girls challenging the male authorities. Being males and vulnerable, they didn’t have a great deal of fight in them when confronted by a costume no bigger than a handkerchief and often arranged on the wearer very provocatively.
The girls won the right to wear as little or as much as they liked without condemnation…well there were a few wives demurely dressed in stout one piece bathing costumes that became fed up with their husbands watching ‘the ships’ with their binoculars.
Fashion turns, it always will, our economies would come to a halt if it didn’t, and the ‘neck-to-knee’ undergarments are back again. I’ll try to think positively and say perhaps it’s a good thing given the crime and dangerous situations women face on the streets and public transport. I just hope it doesn’t go so far back into the past to require the metal belt and padlock with the remote control on the husband or partner’s key ring.
I am too old to join in yet another revolution.
Your comfortable ‘flower child friend’
Cynthia.