Mid-Century Fashion Explosion- From "Raven Red"

In a South Bronx of the 1950’s, as in many towns throughout the country, teenagers were not usually perceived as “adolescents,” that is, humans in the process of becoming, with biologically defined mood swings positing understanding and/or sensitive counseling; rather, they often were simply regarded as lost, lazy and loutish annoyances, flaunting their young bodies and immature souls with a whiff of toughness, sex, and general wrongdoing. Competition among the teens themselves was also quite fierce. Consequently, there was a strict dress code for those wishing to survive this precarious stage of life without being victimized, horribly scrutinized, merely ostracized or worse, ignored, and it was was unyieldingly conformist.

The word “denim” was not in use at the time, but dungarees were an essential item, preferably Lees, as they were believed less “faggoty,” than Wranglers. Dungaree jackets dominated the fashion scene for spring and fall, draping the thin shoulders of children along with “shiny” jackets for summer, wardrobe items that comprised the staples of any self-respecting street teen’s after-school and summer couture. These same dungarees (perhaps a nod to farmers who cleared dung in them) when worn by girls often had red embroidery patterns trailing down the side of each pant leg, possibly in a row of small, rosettes on connecting vines; the flowers were sewn onto the stiff cotton fabric right at the moment of purchase, on the spot as it were. What we now refer to as “jeans” met their crimson curleques of magic thread by way of a jet speed, electric needled Singer sewing machine that stood guard at the front of the “dry goods” store, awaiting the next assault on the material.

The dry goods store, a neighborhood fixture, was a small, cave-like enterprise, surprisingly well-lit but long and narrow, containing shelves up to the ceiling on both sides, piled thick, high and disorderly with sweatshirts, polo shirts, shorts and other staples of teen apparel; the proprietor wore one of those tiny, bristly mustaches that looked like an attachment for a vacuum cleaner, the small, plastic thing-a-ma-jig part that does blinds. In essence however he really was more of a one-man band than an appliance salesman and he kept the place in perfect tune- selling, buying, ringing up purchases on an imposing, noisy cash register with large, round keys; continually busy folding and refolding, tidying up the shop, sewing rosettes onto the sides of dungarees for impatient kids, he also kept the books along with a keen eye out for Kleptos.

The complete dungaree outfit, a vision in what we now call denim, though much, much sturdier and never pre-washed, from top to bottom included a matching jacket and was the real flash point of style. When eventually fitted to satisfaction and paid for in cash, the final touch or piece de resistance was the dry goods proprietor stitching the kid’s first name onto the back of the jacket in matching crimson thread, floridly scripted in oversized and cursive artistry. Sashaying down the block in her brand new uniform, the typical thirteen or fourteen year old never failed to be amazed when a guy of fourteen or fifteen or sixteen, with sideburns, a duck’s tale and/or pompadour, teasingly called out her name as she passed. How could he possibly have known? It always took the girl a few moments to get it, to remember that the name was plastered all over the back of the jacket, before tossing her head back like Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice and laughing seductively with just a slight hint of contempt as she disappeared around the nearest corner. Ah, what power to be young, female, and swathed in virgin, durable, navy blue Lees from head to toe!

The lighter “shiny” jacket of a flimsier material had a much shorter seasonal life and therefore less clout on the sidewalk, but was equally if not more visible from at least a quarter of a mile away, mainly because of its reflective quality almost remindful of something atomic; cut baseball style of cheap, stiff nylon, it had an unusually high, blistering, almost nuclear sheen. The jacket came in several shades of day glow popsicle, and may well have been a forerunner to the Summer of Love, hovering out there in the next decade with all that lavish tie dye. This rather radiant article of clothing also turned out to be extremely popular, though only for a very short while as it offered no warmth whatsoever. The look came in hot pink and a kind of stop sign orange, though fuchsia and a radioactive lime green showed up on street corners as well.

It definitely was not the kind of thing you'd want to be mucking up while diving under your desk for a shelter drill, but more fitting for dress down Fridays or weekends, after school was out.