Learning to Wait in a Skirt

During the Summer of Love, I was sixteen and endlessly raiding my mother’s and sister’s wardrobes whenever I had the house to myself. Always alert to the possibility that someone might walk through the door at any moment, I worked quickly: dress, makeup, a few stolen poses in the mirror—then everything undone just as fast.

I was as confused as a teenager could be, but I knew one thing for certain: I liked dressing up. I liked making up. I liked becoming a young woman, even if only for a few fleeting minutes. I treasured that secret girl-time alone, though I had no idea where it might eventually lead.

Then one day, I thought I’d found an answer.

It was in the August 11, 1967, issue of Life magazine. Buried in the news section was a short article titled “Now the Mini Has a Man in It.” According to the piece, “In a ‘spontaneous’ fashion happening, miniskirts for men have begun showing up in Paris, Munich, London, and Tokyo.” Accompanying the article were photographs of miniskirted men in Europe and Japan (see image above).

I was stunned and thrilled. Naively, I assumed the fad would spread. Surely it wouldn’t be long before boys in the United States would be wearing miniskirts too. And when that happened, I could finally step outside in the skirts and dresses I loved, in plain sight.

It didn’t happen.

I waited patiently, but the fad never caught on. Still, in time, I did go public wearing the skirts and dresses I loved, just the same.

C’est la vie.

Wearing L'Agence

Robert Woolsey and Bert Wheeler femulating in the 1933 film So This Is Africa.