All my friends wore crinolines and long-line bras and I relished having these two extraordinary undergarments. Crinolines were those big puffy undergarments that made your skirt flounce. I have no idea how one of these long garments came into my position, maybe it was secondhand from Joyce and Cynthia, my friends from the Jewish Alps in the Catskills where I spent my summers. I knew that it didn’t come from shopping because since my mother died, it was all second-hand. I remember setting my hair with bobby pins the night before and in the morning using an inordinate amount of spray-net to keep it in place. My plan was to be gorgeous for Dennis Flynn, a tall blond that went to Saint Cecilia’s the local Catholic Church. I dressed carefully, making sure my crinoline was in place by folding over the waistband and making it secure with a safety pin. Making do was a common occurrence in my life. A crisp white blouse topped my green and white-striped skirt. I had gone to the 5 and 10 the day before and purchased Fire Engine Red Lipstick. I felt like a movie star. I put on some short green gloves and proceeded to walk down Teaneck Road past the Jewish Community Center in spike heels with pointed toes. I recognized him from a distance -- Dennis Flynn, my heartthrob from Catholic school. I froze in front of him, not knowing what to say, and it was then that my crinoline fell to the ground, the safety pin failed. I remember picking it up and walking on.
2015 written for Talk Story at Bucks County Playhouse
