I was out shopping this afternoon. As usual I ended up in the baby clothes and started looking for a Christmas dress for Makiya’s first Christmas. (Don’t even get me started on why I’m looking at Christmas things at the beginning of October. That’s a rant for another day.)
Anyway, I found some beautiful dresses that would look so sweet on her. I didn’t buy one though, there’s lots of time, and lots more dresses to debate over.
While I browsed I noticed something about a lot of the dresses that surprised me – a lot of them had crinolines attached! Those scratchy pieces of fabric took me back in time to my own childhood, and my own experiences with crinolines and other items of torture I endured in the name of fashion.
When I think of crinolines, I remember dresses I wore as a child and the chafing of the crinoline on my legs. It hurt! I ended up with a rash! There was one in particular, it was light blue and the crinoline was especially scratchy. I can still remember how my little legs looked after wearing that dress. As I recall, I did look pretty nice in that dress though. In fact, I think I might still have it in the attic.
I also remember the white headband-like hats we wore for church and how the tight combs dug into the sides of my head. I think that those things hurt even more than the crinolines. I remember sitting in church sometimes attempting to lift one side or another to gain some relief from the relentless pain that the combs inflicted.
Now I’m thinking that I’ll pass over those fancy crinoline-lined dresses. I don’t want my precious granddaughter to have to endure that torture. She’ll look just as pretty in a simple cotton Christmas dress.