No bloomers

Sunday 15 February 2009

Jessy and I continue our 'retro' weekend here at the beach house on Long Beach Island. It has been so uneventful that I shall spare the details except to say that Jessy's time is passed. Mine was done about two days ago. I mention hers only because last night she took advantage of being free and clear. Now we have been wearing our Colonial outfits exclusively since we got here Friday evening, including the shift which is like a long cotton nightshirt. People have asked if we wear bloomers or anything else under it. Now bloomers are too new for the 18th century; they were invented by a Mrs Bloomer who in about about 1875 wanted to ride a bicycle, so she hitched up her shift and sewed it on the middle to keep it from tangling in the sprockets. Therefore... before the bicycle, no 'bloomers'. When Jessy and I were very young we used to wear panties under our shifts when we dressed up for reenactments, till we found out that Mommy wasn't wearing panties under hers and so we both promptly stopped, I suppose mainly to not offend her by not keeping 'to period'. Mother (our stepmother) used to work the ice-cream parlour the summer before and the summer after Mommy died and really did keep to period, at least at first, till she found out the other girls insisted on wearing panties. It's just a little strange to be serving food and not having on... you know. S she discovered a woman online who makes old-fashioned underpants, really like short bloomers, with authentic drawstrings, not elastic, and cute gathered legs, some of which look more like Can-Can-girl knickers. So Mother as acting manager began prescribing that all the girls wear those instead of modern panties, and as far as she knows they all did. I have heard that some of the younger girls thought they were incredibly sexy (and no, I haven't heard much more than that, but I can imagine!). I know most of the adult women who worked there liked them too.

Jessy and I usually stay completely in period when we're reenacting, or even when we're doing like we're doing now, just like we did when Mother used to home-school us. In short, there's nothing under the shifts that God didn't give us. Of course there are considerations you have to keep in mind, but most of it is not a problem because the skirts are so long that there's no chance of it blowing up or giving away too much as you ascend stairs or even bend over, you know. And it honestly does feel comfortable once you get used to it. That's the funniest thing about all this gear-- bedjacket, stays, bodice, skirt, underskirt, shift, stockings, and shoes-- it's actually very comfortable. But of course it is-- these clothes would have been made by women who had to work in them every day, and there's no way a woman would be so stupid as to make something she had to wear every day that was uncomfortable. The stays and bodice actually help keep your back straight when you bend over. The drawstring waists can all be layered over each other so as not to bunch up. The garters actually do stay up, without elastic, because they go round your leg only just above the calf and not the thigh like they would if your skirt was shorter. My booties are straight-lasted, meaning the left and right are identical, not mirror patterns of each other, and of course the heels are not too high so my foot is well supported heel and toe. I really mean it when I say I could wear this stuff, to work, all day-- and I really mean it when I say I have, and often.

Oh, as to Jessy-- We have been going to bed early, as we would have 250 years ago, so it was only about 11.00 last night when I woke up from an almost-sleep because I heard her in the other bed. 'What's wrong?' I asked in the dark.

'Mm,' she sighed, 'nothing....'

I blushed. I should not have. In the dim light from the window behind me I saw her lift her bottom off the bed. Under the comforter, under the sheet, under the shift, she was busy with her hand. 'Oh, dear,' I sighed, and rolled over.

'Mmmm,' she sighed, more deeply, and the bed creaked as she began bouncing.

This is how my sister observes the end of her period.

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