Victorian Riding Suit
“Do you ride,” he asked, with a hopeful, forward look about his face. “Oh yes, I ride,” I said, trying not to sound excited. I had been riding since Papa put me in the saddle at age 2. Last week, Mama and I just finished the green riding suit with the split skirt and black braid trim. I just needed to find a new hat to match.
“Tomorrow at 11,” he said. And I was already down the trail in my beautiful medium green contrasting with the dark evergreens!
Split Skirt Riding Suit
The corn rows stretched clear over to the Johnson farm. It was endless, but Mama was insistent that we get the row finished by supper time. I longed for the wind to cool my face, but Mama insisted I wear one of her gigantic bonnets. It stretched so far out–held up by wooden slats–I could barely see what I was doing. “You gotta save your skin,” Mama said. It would never see the sun at this rate.
I wore my plain black wool skirt to Sunday meeting. It was like every other girl’s skirt there. But I had a secret. Underneath I had on my newly minted red taffeta, red satin, and red net petticoat.
When I walked, it talked. It sashayed with my every movement. It was so pretty I was tempted to wear it as a skirt by itself. Oh, the scandal!
They say her eyes are blue like the sky. And the dress matches them perfectly. He took out his grandmother’s sapphire ring. Kelly–blue eyes–blue dress–sapphire ring. Perfect.
We were downtown Nashville window shopping when I saw a lady’s unmentionable in the window. The sign said “Throw away your corset.” Taking as deep a breath as the stays would allow, I went in and purchased my first brassiere. Tomorrow, I will toss my 2 corsets into Mama’s cook stove.
Relief at last . . .
Black Victorian Blouse
She was taking the train to Knoxville to visit her Aunt Grace. The young man sitting across the aisle kept smiling at her. Maybe it was her blouse with the 4 kinds of lace. But she was in mourning. She couldn’t smile too much. . . .
Black Victorian Blouse or Waist