M0nica
Babs03 I used to care what I looked like, wearing high heels that wrecked my feet and pencil skirts that I couldn’t walk in but I just go for comfort and colour now I am older.
I do not think that caring how you looked ever meant wearing uncomfortable clothes. When I was working, a rare woman at management level in engineering firms I always dressed well, and it was commented on, but high heels, straight skirts never formed any part of my wardrobe. Jaeger suits and fashionable shoes, with tiny heels, usually Russell & Bromley, were my style and a good line in surprised hauteur should anyone ask me whether I could take shorthand or do some copying
This is doubtless true of many of our generation, Monica, but certainly did not apply either to my mother as a young woman or to my grandmothers.
My paternal grandmother, who died in 1966 when I was coming up for 15, wore long salmon pink boned corsets every day of her life, until her final illness kept her in bed. Her stay lace was about two yards long- I very much doubt the garment was comfortable, but she felt indecent without it.
I clearly remember my mother's difficulty in finding roll-ons or even bras that were particularly comfortable, and I have a very clear memory of my 14 year old selv rebelling against a roll-on that left marks of its elastication all the way from my hips to my pubic bone, as well as the marks caused by the attached suspenders.
A couple of years later, I forced my feet into pointed shoes that squashed my big and my little toes, but the were fashionable, so I put up with the discomfort.
I am sure I am not alone in this teenage behaviour.
Colette describes an actress of her acquaintance whose corset was so long and stiffly boned that it prevented her from sitting down. She only accepted parts that did not require her to sit on stage, and remained on her feet from early morning until late night! This would be in the 1890s or early 1900s.