Go Go Boots and Fishnet Stockings

Ever since I could remember, I always wanted to be older than I was. I can tell you that now at 51, I no longer want to be older than I am. But as a child,

I always wanted to be older. Being an only child growing up in my
grandmother's home, I never felt like a child. Not really having many kids my own age to play with, I gravitated towards adults. Also, as a young child I was privy to conversations that, let us say, were not age appropriate.

Adults always found me wise beyond my years. Yet children who were
my own age never much played with me. Therefore, whenever I could, I
found older children who enjoyed being around me. All these factors
contributed to my desire to be older.

I found my transformation complete when I would put on adult shoes. One
of my most cherished childhood memories was when my cousin, age five, and I, age eight, would put on plastic high heeled shoes that were bought at the five and dime store. Then we would parade up and down the sidewalk in them. It never occurred to either one of us how cheap and gawky these plastic high heeled shoes really were. For me, I was grown up. I was like all the pretty ladies on the street.

On occasion, somebody would tell me to take those silly looking shoes off
before I fell and hurt myself, but I flatly refused. My purple plastic shoes were beautiful. I pretended they were glass slippers and I was Cinderella!

One of the saddest times of my life was when I outgrew these plastic high
heels, yet I still had to watch my cousin parade up and down the street in them.

I was miserable!

It just wasn't enough that I could still wear a floppy hat, carry a purse and
smoke my candy cigarettes. I wanted my high heeled shoes!

I was not allowed to wear real high heels as a young girl, but I alway
pleaded for the shoe with the highest heel that I could get away with.
However, even that could not compensate for my purple plastic high heeled
shoes from the five and dime!

One time, someone brought my grandmother a box of old shoes to
distribute to anyone who wanted them. We went through the box together and most of the shoes were high heels. I was delighted but not my grandmother.

She said they were old-fashioned high heels that were worn in the 40s and
50s. It was now the late 60s and nobody she knew would wear them. I pleaded with her to let me have them. After some negotiation she allowed me to have a few pairs on the condition that I share them with my cousin, Shirley.

Once again we paraded the streets in our high heels, with wide brimmed
hats, large purses, and candy cigarettes hanging out of our mouths. How
grown up I felt!

My favourite pair was a black four-inch pump that tied around the ankle.
It was a pair that I was sure the grand ladies of the movies wore. I was sure that this particular pair had belonged to Joan Crawford herself!

From Cinderella, to Joan Crawford, from a princess to a movie star, my
tastes were changing. Now I was Joan Crawford. I mean it. I really
was!

Whether the heels broke, or my grandmother threw away my Joan
Crawford pumps, I don't really remember. All I know is that my fascination with high heels was brought to an abrupt ending.

At thirteen, I still loved shoes, but I no longer wanted to be older than I
actually was. I just wanted to be like every other girl my age and wear what every other girl my age were wearing.

The style in 1968 was white go go boots and fishnet stockings and I, like
every other teenager, wanted them badly. My grandmother refused to buy
them for me. She was not much into fashion and she felt that I was too young to be dressing like a "lady of the evening."

It took months of pleading with her to let me buy them. I would explain
over and over that it was not the apparel of ladies of the night. All the girls in my high school had them. She would tell me that I was too young to wear fishnet stockings. Yet, I was allowed to wear nylon stockings when I was dressed up. "So what is the difference?" I would argue.

She was relentless. "You will look like a hooker," she said.

I said I would wear only white fishnets. They would go well with the go

go boots. You see, I was relentless too!

"What go go boots," she responded. "If you think I am wasting good money on those things you're crazy."

"But they are pretty."

"You will look like a hooker."

"No I won't! With my white fishnet stockings and go go boots I will look
like a majorette and I know you like majorettes."

I won. I got the fishnet stockings and the go go boots, and I was the
happiest girl alive. I thought I was beautiful. I no longer was Cinderella or
Joan Crawford, I was me, and I looked like a majorette. I would hold my head up high and walk down the street singing, "These Boots are Made for
Walking," a song recorded by Nancy Sinatra.

I was the envy of everyone on my street. No longer did people laugh at my high heels. They envied my go go boots. I was the first kid on the block to have them and I was just me, not Cinderella, nor Joan Crawford, just me. Fishnet stockings and go go boots became the rite of passage for the little girl becoming a woman in her own right.