Dress sense

The 1950s gave rise to a new class in society–the teenager. Previously, teenaged children were sent to work as soon as possible to help support the family, or otherwise educated to university level. There certainly was no sense of adolescence or ‘growing space’, with time to find one’s feet. The teenagers of the 1950s were born during the war, had suffered the privations of shortages in almost everything and were moving into a world that, as never before, had the power to destroy itself by the push of a button.

They also had rock’n’roll. It came as a rallying point–a musical call to arms that appealed directly to young hearts and minds looking for something of their own. For the first time teenagers had their own music, own language and own clothes. With so many joining the workforce in the second half of the decade, the issue of ‘appropriate dress’ needed to be dealt with.

The solution was simple for boys–collar and tie, neat and tidy. For girls, it was not as easy. The teenaged girls entering the workforce, particularly the department, were usually clerk-typists or stenographers and were put into ‘typing pools’ of between six and 20. These girls were under the care and management of the senior stenographer, a single lady (women were still required to resign on marriage) ironically called a ‘mother’. The styles and approaches of these women varied greatly–some were formidable harridans while others were more concerned with developing staff and helping them with their careers.

One such lady was in charge of a departmental typing pool and always gave good advice on the topic of appropriate dress. ‘I have always told my girls that the best dress for work is a tweed skirt and a Pringle twin-set with pearls. It can take them anywhere and will stand them in good stead for many years.’

Given that the average wage for a junior in the typing pool was about £7 a fortnight and that a Pringle twin-set, fully imported from the UK, cost about £5 if you could get one, the department’s junior staff were in no hurry to heed the lady’s advice. But such were her powers of gentle persuasion that eventually, such items were purchased. They became the ‘signature’ of this particular typing pool, so much so that every departmental officer knew ‘Miss X’s girls’ by their uniform.