BEST DRESSED

Looking at my extensive pile of t-shirts and sweatpants, it's hard to believe now that I was once a haute couture wannabe. My freshman year in college I longed to have a stylish wardrobe, but I was realistic enough to know that there was no way my dorm room closet would ever be FULL of classy clothes because my budget for such luxury was running on EMPTY.

Complicating matters was the fact that during my first year of college, there was still a dress code for women: no jeans or slacks on campus until after 5 PM. Violators would be ratted on to the Dean of Women's office, and lord knows what shame would have happened there. Execution? I owned a grand total of one matching skirt/sweater outfit (burnt orange), two tent dresses, culottes, some shirt-waist dresses, and bunch of gathered skirts and blouses. Not exactly high fashion.

To add to the humiliation, every spring there was a Best Dressed Co-ed contest. Clubs and dorms would sponsor cute gals with spiffy threads to put on a fashion show at the Student Union. About 25-or so girls would model sportswear, Sunday attire, party dresses, and evening gowns and then the Top 10 would be declared for all to applaud and admire. Out of the 10 winners, the absolute, very best dressed gal would be honored. It was a huge deal and even merited a double-page spread in the college yearbook, for gosh sakes.

I attended the contest my freshman year to cheer on a girl from my dorm floor, Kathy Horton, who was nominated. She had great flair for throwing together an outfit, and even with one leg in a cast she got in the Top 10. The next year she was able to work the catwalk without a cast and won the whole shebang, but by that time I had lost interest in (and hope of) ever being fashionable so I didn't even bother sitting in the crowd with the rest of the wannabes that spring.

I don't know how it happened but by the fall of 1969, my junior year, it seemed the college rules had relaxed and no one outside a sorority gave a rat's hind-end what was worn or what time of day it was worn. My wardrobe started gravitating to bell bottom pants, tie-dyed shirts, and anything made of corduroy that I could find at the Salvation Army Store. All the sudden I could afford to look like most of the other slobs on campus. Mama Bore made me some cloth shoulder bags, I had one pair of all-purpose brown leather sandals, and I made beaded necklaces and bracelets to complete the accessorized look.

If there'd been a Worst Dressed Co-ed/Best Dressed Hippie contest in 1970, I would have been a shoe-in for the Top Ten.