Second Tuesdays: A Collection

impractical clothes

May 12, 1953 - Tuesday

Mary Poppins loved Edwardian clothes. They were so utterly sensible in every way, after all. The skirts were long and modest, yet slim and comfortable. The shirtwaists were simple and sophisticated, the hats were conventional and elegant, the shoes were prudent and refined. They were easy to move about in, take jolly holidays, and manage unruly children. They truly were the best clothes she had owned, and even though the time had passed for them to be fashionable, she still wore them regularly.

She thought back on all of her clothes through the decades. The extravagant and gaudy gowns of the 1700s, with the exuberance of bows and frills and poufs and any amount of decoration that fit on the monstrous creations. She remembered meeting Marie Antoinette, with her colorful skirts and wide panniers and towering hair. Of course, Mary herself tried to tone it down as much as possible, oftentimes opting for the slightly less eye-catching English gowns instead, even when she was residing in France.

Still. Ridiculously impractical.

The early 1800s weren't much better, either. Sure, the gaudiness receded a bit, and gowns lost their voluminous skirts, but the clothes were so very restrictive. The regency stays forced cleavage to women's chins, the empire-waisted gowns could appear formless and unflattering, and the lace added to simply everything itched like crazy. Curls were left at the side of the head, but they would fall in front of her eyes and would restrict her vision.

Outlandishly impractical.

As time went on, fashion changed and evolved, but it never seemed to be to her tastes. The 1830s brought ludicrously big balloon sleeves, the 1850s had flounces and frills and bows galore, the 1860s had exploding skirts, and the late 1870s had skirts so tight she could barely walk.

Nonsensically, pointlessly, preposterously impractical, every single one of them.

Yet Edwardian clothes seemed like they were made for her. Almost twenty glorious years... and then it changed again.

1920s. Hems were raised, hair was cut, waists were dropped. She refused to show her legs in public; what an utterly irreputable idea!

It had become harder and harder to find clothes she liked as time went on, but she had to admit that the thirties and forties were a relief. The hemlines never went back down, but skirts became more sensible, blouses became more reasonable. She finally dared to show her legs (always below the knee, mind you, and never without a respectable pair of stockings or pantyhose). She would always remember Bert's face when he saw her like that for the first time. She had pretended to not notice his gaze, or his slight blush and stammering words. But later, when they had been alone, she had smiled and he had kissed her and whispered in her ear that she looked beautiful, gorgeous, and so, so stunning.

She had worn thirties skirts more often after that.

But when the 1950s rolled around, and the skirts once again turned more voluminous, when petticoats and crinolines began to peek out underneath the circle skirts, Mary viewed most clothes with disdain once more. Why did she need such a dress when it would only get in the way? Why would she cut all of her long hair into a short pixie cut?

She continued to wear forties clothes in the autumn, and sometimes Edwardian clothes in the cold of winter. After all, the long skirts were very effective at keeping her warm.

But, every once in a while, when the summer rolled around, Bert would convince her to take a jolly holiday with him. And, sometimes, on such occasions, she would wear a poofy 50s skirt, swinging tantalizingly around her knees. And, on hot summer holidays, she might forgo wearing stockings entirely.

Almost always on those occasions, Bert would hold Mary close and spin her around, until her skirt billowed up and the pins escaped her hair. She had never bared to cut it. And in days like those she thought it was completely worth it to have it long, since Bert would thread his fingers through her dark locks and press his lips to hers.

On such days, although she would never admit it anywhere else, Mary Poppins thought it could be wonderful to wear impractical clothes.