Fashion Crisis ‘71

Hello Poetry Lovers, now I’ve been tidying out the Poetry Sideboard to find a theme for today’s post. And I came up with yet another poignant memory from 1971.

As you can see, there is a wealth of material lurking in here, so I’ve penned this one set in ‘71 and the importance of the right clothes for the disco. In fact, I remember it being the end of the world!

Read on

Fashion Crisis’71

My Mum won’t let me wear her wet look boots,

she won’t even knit me a tank top

My brother won’t lend me his Ben Sherman.

I can’t pass off my PE shorts as hot pants.

And maxi dresses are too expensive.

I’ll never get a boyfriend now,

my mates up the disco all have slow dances

with random youths, but even when

my pal lends me her smock top,

I still don’t get asked.

Approaching fourteen, and never been with a boy!

I am entirely on the shelf!

I miserably listen to David Cassidy on

the radiogram.

“Whatever suits you is fashionable”,

he said in Mirabelle magazine.

He’s talking through his arse!

HM 2021

Thanks for reading, PL’s. A lot of us can remember those times. Weren’t maxi dresses beautiful? And so painfully out of reach for a lot of us! Tune in soon for more poetry antics….