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I can’t remember where we were going — but that day in 1940 must have been “special”.
My mother and I were sitting in our front room, in our best clothes…waiting! I have no idea why.
Mother is wearing her best black hat (with lace) and is wearing a beautiful blue crocheted jumper and bright blue beads that exactly matched the colour of her eyes.

Three and a half years old, I stood beside her…my long curls being evidence of a painful night in “rags”. My lips are pursed, my expression far from happy…and I remember quite clearly why; it was THAT suit!

In those early days of the war, it was especially difficult to clothe a fast-growing child. Often my grown-up relations would pass on their out-moded garments to my mother. She would unpick the dress/coat/skirt…wash the fabric, then remake it into something smart for me. All were stitched by hand, as she never possessed a sewing machine.

My Aunty Molly lived in America at this time, and whenever possible she would send us gift parcels with varied contents to help us through those difficult days of rationing and shortages. You can imagine my mothers’ pleasure when a parcel arrived that contained clothes for me…American clothes!

This little suit was from America, and it fitted me perfectly. The skirt was palest grey and styled in “sunray pleats”. The jacket and matching “beanie” hat were REVERSIBLE…pale grey on one side and red, white and grey check on the other; so smart…such class — well that was my mothers’ opinion.

You see, I hated the fabric that the suit had been made from; it was so soft and rather silky... (or was that my imagination taking over, and I felt that it was slimy?!” My family had been so impressed to read on the label the word “Sharkskin”.

Even at the tender age of three, I knew that a shark was some sort of big fish…with a huge mouth…lots of teeth…and that it was very fierce. The idea that I was wearing a suit made from skin that had been taken from such a wild creature petrified me and filled me with horror!

Thinking back, “Sharkskin might have been a trade or company name, but in those innocent days no-one bothered to explain to me about things like that; as the recipient of smart American clothes I was supposed to be dutifully grateful.

To wear this attractive little suit became an unbearable ordeal. I could never overcome the feel of the fabric and my horrific ideas as to where it had come from. I was always known as a sunny friendly little girl…but when wearing this suit there was no way that I could bear to “SMILE”.

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