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re: Aunty Ethel's Skirt

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Message 11 of 15
In Response to Aunty Ethel's Skirt
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Aunty Ethel’s skirt

 

 

 

I was dressed in Aunty
Ethel’s wine colored corduroy skirt. It was long, way too long
for me really it came right down over my gumboots. The skirt was a
hand me down and I loved it. Aunty Ethel lived in Auckland city and we
lived on a farm. I believed that any clothing that had been bought in
a shop was important. Our Mum made all our clothes, everything, every
single thing apart from our bloomers and singlets. Even my
brother’s trousers she made and carefully lined them with flour
bag material. If you turned John’s pants inside out you would
see the red brand stamp of where the flour had come from.

 

 

My younger sister Clare and I
were always dressed alike. Every summer and every winter we had two
new dresses each. They would be identical. Both cut from the same
piece of material. Mum said it was the best way to do it, the most
economical; she could get two dresses made with less fabric that way.
This was a common practice in 1950’s New Zealand. Sisters were
always dressed alike. In our house Mum even made both dresses at the
same time. I don’t remember ever having my new dress finished
first before Clare’s, or vice a versa.

 

Usually any hand me downs that
Aunty Ethel sent to us were cut up by Mum and transformed into clothes
more suitable for children on a farm. Somehow the skirt had escaped
this treatment and I now possessed it intact. It even still had the
label sewn into the back of the waist band that said “La Femme
Fashions “

 

The fact that it was far too
big, so I had to use a safety pin to hold it on my skinny frame and so
long it would get tangled between my legs when I ran, didn’t
matter one bit to me. In fact I quite liked holding it up in front
when I was running and I was always running, because then it billowed
out a bit at the back which I was sure made me look very grand. Aunty
Ethel’s skirt that once she must have worn going into the city
riding on the tram was now mine.  

 

This day I was wearing the
skirt and I was chasing sheep along the road to the shearing shed. I
was happy, wearing that skirt made me feel I was all grown up, perhaps
I even looked like a town girl and I forgot I was trailing along
behind a mob of dirty sheep. Then I heard someone laughing at me.
Right in front of me was a strange car full of people. It wasn’t
anyone from our valley, I knew everyone who lived in Ahuroa. They were
probably people from town. As these thoughts scrambled through my head
the man wound down the driver’s window

 “Where, DID you
come from  ?” he said as he drove his car past me.

 
Lovely story!  Very
good side with my morning coffee.  I understand that little
girl very well, and would have thought you were
lovely.  My mom made my clothes as well, but they always
had a big sash on them tied in a bow.  The boys loved
grabbing that sash at recess, causing the lovely bow to be a horse
halter and calling "whoa mule" pretending I was
their horse.  I eventually ended up with one torn off, but we
had fun.


 




Sasebone

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re: Aunty Ethel's Skirt

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Message 12 of 15
In Response to Aunty Ethel's Skirt
:

  


Aunty Ethel’s skirt

 

 

 

I was dressed in Aunty
Ethel’s wine colored corduroy skirt. It was long, way too long
for me really it came right down over my gumboots. The skirt was a
hand me down and I loved it. Aunty Ethel lived in Auckland city and we
lived on a farm. I believed that any clothing that had been bought in
a shop was important. Our Mum made all our clothes, everything, every
single thing apart from our bloomers and singlets. Even my
brother’s trousers she made and carefully lined them with flour
bag material. If you turned John’s pants inside out you would
see the red brand stamp of where the flour had come from.

 

 

My younger sister Clare and I
were always dressed alike. Every summer and every winter we had two
new dresses each. They would be identical. Both cut from the same
piece of material. Mum said it was the best way to do it, the most
economical; she could get two dresses made with less fabric that way.
This was a common practice in 1950’s New Zealand. Sisters were
always dressed alike. In our house Mum even made both dresses at the
same time. I don’t remember ever having my new dress finished
first before Clare’s, or vice a versa.

 

Usually any hand me downs that
Aunty Ethel sent to us were cut up by Mum and transformed into clothes
more suitable for children on a farm. Somehow the skirt had escaped
this treatment and I now possessed it intact. It even still had the
label sewn into the back of the waist band that said “La Femme
Fashions “

 

The fact that it was far too
big, so I had to use a safety pin to hold it on my skinny frame and so
long it would get tangled between my legs when I ran, didn’t
matter one bit to me. In fact I quite liked holding it up in front
when I was running and I was always running, because then it billowed
out a bit at the back which I was sure made me look very grand. Aunty
Ethel’s skirt that once she must have worn going into the city
riding on the tram was now mine.  

 

This day I was wearing the
skirt and I was chasing sheep along the road to the shearing shed. I
was happy, wearing that skirt made me feel I was all grown up, perhaps
I even looked like a town girl and I forgot I was trailing along
behind a mob of dirty sheep. Then I heard someone laughing at me.
Right in front of me was a strange car full of people. It wasn’t
anyone from our valley, I knew everyone who lived in Ahuroa. They were
probably people from town. As these thoughts scrambled through my head
the man wound down the driver’s window

 “Where, DID you
come from  ?” he said as he drove his car past me.

Wonderful story, I can just picture it. Thanks for the giggle
this morning! 

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re: Aunty Ethel's Skirt

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Message 13 of 15
In Response to Aunty Ethel's Skirt
:

  


Aunty Ethel’s skirt

 

 

 

I was dressed in Aunty
Ethel’s wine colored corduroy skirt. It was long, way too long
for me really it came right down over my gumboots. The skirt was a
hand me down and I loved it. Aunty Ethel lived in Auckland city and we
lived on a farm. I believed that any clothing that had been bought in
a shop was important. Our Mum made all our clothes, everything, every
single thing apart from our bloomers and singlets. Even my
brother’s trousers she made and carefully lined them with flour
bag material. If you turned John’s pants inside out you would
see the red brand stamp of where the flour had come from.

 

 

My younger sister Clare and I
were always dressed alike. Every summer and every winter we had two
new dresses each. They would be identical. Both cut from the same
piece of material. Mum said it was the best way to do it, the most
economical; she could get two dresses made with less fabric that way.
This was a common practice in 1950’s New Zealand. Sisters were
always dressed alike. In our house Mum even made both dresses at the
same time. I don’t remember ever having my new dress finished
first before Clare’s, or vice a versa.

 

Usually any hand me downs that
Aunty Ethel sent to us were cut up by Mum and transformed into clothes
more suitable for children on a farm. Somehow the skirt had escaped
this treatment and I now possessed it intact. It even still had the
label sewn into the back of the waist band that said “La Femme
Fashions “

 

The fact that it was far too
big, so I had to use a safety pin to hold it on my skinny frame and so
long it would get tangled between my legs when I ran, didn’t
matter one bit to me. In fact I quite liked holding it up in front
when I was running and I was always running, because then it billowed
out a bit at the back which I was sure made me look very grand. Aunty
Ethel’s skirt that once she must have worn going into the city
riding on the tram was now mine.  

 

This day I was wearing the
skirt and I was chasing sheep along the road to the shearing shed. I
was happy, wearing that skirt made me feel I was all grown up, perhaps
I even looked like a town girl and I forgot I was trailing along
behind a mob of dirty sheep. Then I heard someone laughing at me.
Right in front of me was a strange car full of people. It wasn’t
anyone from our valley, I knew everyone who lived in Ahuroa. They were
probably people from town. As these thoughts scrambled through my head
the man wound down the driver’s window

 “Where, DID you
come from  ?” he said as he drove his car past me.

  As a fellow wearer of  just alike sister dresses and hand
downs I can identify with this.  I had an older sister who liked
it alot less then I did. Plus, I had her hand downs as well.

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Aunty Ethel's Skirt

599 Views
Message 14 of 15

  


Aunty Ethel’s skirt

 

 

 

I was dressed in Aunty
Ethel’s wine colored corduroy skirt. It was long, way too long
for me really it came right down over my gumboots. The skirt was a
hand me down and I loved it. Aunty Ethel lived in Auckland city and we
lived on a farm. I believed that any clothing that had been bought in
a shop was important. Our Mum made all our clothes, everything, every
single thing apart from our bloomers and singlets. Even my
brother’s trousers she made and carefully lined them with flour
bag material. If you turned John’s pants inside out you would
see the red brand stamp of where the flour had come from.

 

 

My younger sister Clare and I
were always dressed alike. Every summer and every winter we had two
new dresses each. They would be identical. Both cut from the same
piece of material. Mum said it was the best way to do it, the most
economical; she could get two dresses made with less fabric that way.
This was a common practice in 1950’s New Zealand. Sisters were
always dressed alike. In our house Mum even made both dresses at the
same time. I don’t remember ever having my new dress finished
first before Clare’s, or vice a versa.

 

Usually any hand me downs that
Aunty Ethel sent to us were cut up by Mum and transformed into clothes
more suitable for children on a farm. Somehow the skirt had escaped
this treatment and I now possessed it intact. It even still had the
label sewn into the back of the waist band that said “La Femme
Fashions “

 

The fact that it was far too
big, so I had to use a safety pin to hold it on my skinny frame and so
long it would get tangled between my legs when I ran, didn’t
matter one bit to me. In fact I quite liked holding it up in front
when I was running and I was always running, because then it billowed
out a bit at the back which I was sure made me look very grand. Aunty
Ethel’s skirt that once she must have worn going into the city
riding on the tram was now mine.  

 

This day I was wearing the
skirt and I was chasing sheep along the road to the shearing shed. I
was happy, wearing that skirt made me feel I was all grown up, perhaps
I even looked like a town girl and I forgot I was trailing along
behind a mob of dirty sheep. Then I heard someone laughing at me.
Right in front of me was a strange car full of people. It wasn’t
anyone from our valley, I knew everyone who lived in Ahuroa. They were
probably people from town. As these thoughts scrambled through my head
the man wound down the driver’s window

 “Where, DID you
come from  ?” he said as he drove his car past me.
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Aunty Ethel's Skirt

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Message 14 of 15

  


Aunty Ethel’s skirt

 

 

 

I was dressed in Aunty
Ethel’s wine colored corduroy skirt. It was long, way too long
for me really it came right down over my gumboots. The skirt was a
hand me down and I loved it. Aunty Ethel lived in Auckland city and we
lived on a farm. I believed that any clothing that had been bought in
a shop was important. Our Mum made all our clothes, everything, every
single thing apart from our bloomers and singlets. Even my
brother’s trousers she made and carefully lined them with flour
bag material. If you turned John’s pants inside out you would
see the red brand stamp of where the flour had come from.

 

 

My younger sister Clare and I
were always dressed alike. Every summer and every winter we had two
new dresses each. They would be identical. Both cut from the same
piece of material. Mum said it was the best way to do it, the most
economical; she could get two dresses made with less fabric that way.
This was a common practice in 1950’s New Zealand. Sisters were
always dressed alike. In our house Mum even made both dresses at the
same time. I don’t remember ever having my new dress finished
first before Clare’s, or vice a versa.

 

Usually any hand me downs that
Aunty Ethel sent to us were cut up by Mum and transformed into clothes
more suitable for children on a farm. Somehow the skirt had escaped
this treatment and I now possessed it intact. It even still had the
label sewn into the back of the waist band that said “La Femme
Fashions “

 

The fact that it was far too
big, so I had to use a safety pin to hold it on my skinny frame and so
long it would get tangled between my legs when I ran, didn’t
matter one bit to me. In fact I quite liked holding it up in front
when I was running and I was always running, because then it billowed
out a bit at the back which I was sure made me look very grand. Aunty
Ethel’s skirt that once she must have worn going into the city
riding on the tram was now mine.  

 

This day I was wearing the
skirt and I was chasing sheep along the road to the shearing shed. I
was happy, wearing that skirt made me feel I was all grown up, perhaps
I even looked like a town girl and I forgot I was trailing along
behind a mob of dirty sheep. Then I heard someone laughing at me.
Right in front of me was a strange car full of people. It wasn’t
anyone from our valley, I knew everyone who lived in Ahuroa. They were
probably people from town. As these thoughts scrambled through my head
the man wound down the driver’s window

 “Where, DID you
come from  ?” he said as he drove his car past me.
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