After my family moved to London in August 1967, one of my first tasks was to get busy raising hemlines so I could be part of the mini-skirt scene. Truth to tell, I raised the same hemlines more than once, going up an inch at a time until—I recall—I was sitting on the scant front edge of my seat in Miss Tranoy's Problems of Democracy class so as to have some miniscule bit of fabric between the tops of my legs and the chilly chair.
How funny is it that at the same time I was baring my legs and couldn't get my miniskirts short enough I was also pleased as punch to purchase a maxi-coat, a regal purple coat that went stylishly down to ankle length, barely leaving my stylishly trendy boots from the Way In shop at Harrod's visible!
Loved that coat.
Loved that purple.
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| The Friend Who Writes Letters Longhand 9 x 12"; acrylic, ink, pastel, and collage on drawing paper abstract face 2021 $45 sold |
