On The Gold Coast: Sleepware Old And New
Judith Wallis is somewhat shocked when she goes shopping for lingerie for her granddaughter. Her experience in a department store leaves her thinking that the word feminine had been replaced by a shorter, more explicit word: sexy.
Today I was lured to the lingerie section of one of the better departmental stores at the local shopping centre, drawn by the colourful picture of radiantly healthy young women pillow fighting across the centre page of a brochure pushed into my letter box. I was planning to buy pretty sleepwear for my teenage granddaughter.
Once in the store I was surprised to find one no longer purchased pyjamas in pairs. The tops and bottoms were bought individually on a mix-and-match system with complete disregard to teaming up pairs in the same size or even fabric or colour. Or so it seemed when I asked some young ladies who were selecting night wear from the racks. ‘Just take what you like,’ was their blithe response.
As the three of them filled the aisle, which resembled a jumble sale with garments hanging askew from the racks and one or two pieces lying unheeded on the floor, I decided to wait rather than push in. I idled along reading the words printed on a variety of night shirts.
There was nothing coy about … SEXY written in large red letters. Or, I’M A VIRGIN but this shirt is old and Come and get it while it’s HOT! Heavens a Betsy, where had I been, or not been, that I was surprised and maybe even a little shocked at the blatant inducement stamped across much of the clothing?
A rush of memory hurled me back, back to 1957 when I was living away from home and had returned to mother’s house for a holiday taking with me the latest in sleep wear, Baby Doll shorty pyjamas. Mine were pink and white candy striped, frilled around the neckline and the bloomer legs. I thought them very trendy. Mother did not. When I hung them on the clothes line she demanded I remove them at once. I was to hang them indoors in the bath room AND cover them with a towel. My younger brother (fourteen going on fifteen and towering above us all) must not be allowed to see them. Now I might have argued with mother but when grandma arrived to back her up I had to give in.
I loved my grandmother but she was a bit old-fashioned. Whenever she left the house, if only to walk down the path to the mail box, she put on her corsets, her maxim being, it would never do to have an accident and arrive at the hospital improperly dressed.
Her enormous peach coloured corsets, all laces and hooks and eyes, were a source of delight to my brother and I when we were young and we fizzled into a fit of the giggles whenever we caught sight of them. Which was not often, as grandmother used large safety pins to secure the awesome garment between two large bath towels before hanging the whole lot on the far end of clothes line. All this secrecy intrigued my brother and I and we dared one another to lift the towel and peep, promising our best marble or the use of some new crayons if the other was brave enough to look.
When the young women left the aisle in the shop I was free to select nightwear for my granddaughter. It took quite a long time and as I stood waiting to be served I attempted to smooth the crumpled clothing, trying to make it look fresh and new. But the girl at the counter rolled the whole lot into a ball and dropped it unceremoniously into a plastic bag and handed it to me with a pleasant smile quite unaware that I had bought a gift for someone special.
I do not often hanker for the past but in that moment I thought back to when shop assistants pulled boxes of beautiful lingerie from the shelves, gently turned back the tissue paper and lifted the dainty lace trimmed garments for us to see.
My experience at the modern department store left me thinking the word feminine may have been replaced with another, shorter and more explicit word, sexy. I hope I am wrong because I am saddened by the concept. What do you think?
