I attended private school during the fifties and sixties. Life for girls was quite regimented back then. We had to wear uniforms that consisted of plaid skirts, white blouses and either a sweater or a blazer. We had to wear socks with our shoes and eschew jewelry and other such things that might stand out from the uniformity of our appearance.
I didn’t mind the uniform much because my mother was a widow and her clothing budget for me was rather small. I only had so many outfits that might have been appropriate for school and having a uniform made it easier for me not to stand out from the rest of the girls who might have owned a few more fashionable items than I did. Nobody really knew that my family was not as wealthy as some of the others which was probably the idea behind uniforms in the first place. I was a scholarship girl and nobody knew that either so I passed for just one of the many gals in our school.
That being said I always wondered why the girls had to wear uniforms but the boys were exempt. As long as the guys wore khaki pants with collared shirts that were tucked inside the belted slacks they were just fine. They did have to wear leather shoes and they had to keep their hair cut short and never even think of growing a beard so I guess they had their rules as well. Still, they were able to display their personalities a bit more than we girls were allowed to do.
When I got to high school a few of the girls attempted to defy the rules now and again. They pushed the envelope by rolling up their skirts to make them shorter than the below the knee length that made them look like the clothing of an old woman. Now and again they teased their hair too much and found themselves in front of the Dean of Women who sometimes made them wet their coiffures to flatten their efforts to have really big hairdos.
There were always days when we had to begin the school day with uniform inspection. We’d stand by our desks while our homeroom teachers checked to see if our skirts were hiked up too high or if our makeup made us look like painted ladies. Most of the time we waited until school was over to ditch our white socks and make our skirts shorter more stylish.
I remember that one of my good friends became the model for how were we supposed to look in our uniforms when we were freshmen in high school. The faculty members escorted her to the stage in the gym and explained the positive aspects of how she wore the uniform so appropriately. By our senior year that same girl was being ushered to the office over and over for her attempts to modernize the uniform with her own special touches.
I was always a afraid to break the rules so I never worried about passing any inspections. Mostly I had no recourse but to wear the uniforms as they were. I owned two skirts, five blouses and the blazer along with a pair of penny loafers and five pairs of socks. That got me through each week without having to wear something that was dirty. Somehow I never really outgrew my uniform components from one year to the next so by the time I graduated they were rather threadbare.
Our colors were brown and white which was a horror for some of my female classmates but I actually looked good in brown so I never minded that aspect of our enforced dress code. I suppose I was lucky in that regard because there are many colors that would have made me look sick with my sallow complexion. Green in particular would have been a terrible choice for me To this very day I shy away from anything emerald colored because it makes me look seasick or like I’m nursing a case of the flu.
Winter time was the only time when I totally hated those uniforms because I had to walk to school and we were never allowed to wear pants of any kind. Braving the cold with legs exposed made my whole body feel numb. A concession was finally made to allow us to wear opaque skin colored tights with our white socks over them. Once again the tights were not exactly a fashion bonus but they kept the cold wind from hitting my legs like icicles. Sadly the open skirt still let the winter weather chill my bones. Luckily one of my friends at school always got a ride with her mother who was a teacher. If I timed my daily walk properly I would encounter them on my way and they would invite me into the warmth of their vehicle. Believe me. I got really good at making sure that I would be in the right place at the right time to get that ride.
I suppose that all in all wearing a uniform every single day for most of my school years was not as bad as I make it out to be, but I longed for the no uniform Fridays that came along now and then. I saved my best outfits for those days. I’d spend more time on my hair and use the colors that enchanted my complexion. I felt a confidence that everyone was seeing the real me on those days. I always believed that I looked so much better because all of the other girls were more lovely as well. Sometimes I even blushed to get a compliment from a boy that made my ego soar.
One year my mother gave me a beautiful royal blue wool pencil skirt for my birthday. I did not have an scintilla of fat on my body at that time and when I put it on I felt as though I actually had a figure for the very first time. Mama had included a baby blue sweater with a V neck to complete the ensemble and even as clumsy as I often felt I just knew that I look different and better as though I had finally grown up. As it happened it was also a no uniform Friday so I wore it to school with my head held high. So many people noticed how wonderful I looked that I felt beautiful for the first time. I must have worn that outfit hundreds of times whenever I got the chance because I always felt so confident in it. Of course my school days mostly kept me in that brown and white skirt with a white blouse that did nothing to boost my ego.
I made it through all of that. I laugh now at my silliness because as a teacher I learned that nearly every young girl goes through a state of feeling plain and ordinary until one day she finds herself liking herself. I don’t know if wearing uniforms all the time helped me feeling better when I finally saw myself in the mirror in that blue skirt or if I would have felt that way sooner or later anyway. All that I know is that the only real plus of the uniform was how it helped me to fit in without the pressure of having something new and wonderful to wear each day. Maybe in the end that is the whole idea behind those ugly clothes. If so, it really isn’t all that bad to feel equal.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 