The Fascination of 50’s Fashion

When writing Thumbs Up, ‘V’ for Victory, I Love You I touched on the clothing styles prevalent during our high school years—but didn’t go into much detail.  (An example of what I mentioned is evident in one of the book’s photos: Two girls and two boys, then seniors in high school, at a dance party.  Note the similarities of what the two sexes are wearing.

Like everything else, clothing is among the things that are in constant evolution, but the way the majority of young men and women accept what’s “in” at the moment seems to remain the same. And like I do today, I’m sure our elders in our time thought some of what we draped over our bodies to be a little strange.

For example, many of the suits, slacks and sport coats that are considered the epitome of male  fashion today to me look downright uncomfortable. It’s almost as if the male model I’m looking at on the pages of Esquire meant to buy a 42 long but instead got a 38 short!  Conversely, women’s “high fashion” duds may be a bit impractical, but I don’t see the same “discomfort” factor in their clothing. Besides—most models are just nice to look at, no matter what they’re wearing.

​Unique and practical at the same time, what our generation wore was at least comfortable—and in some cases was actually healthy for us to wear (I will explain).  Still, like those of today, most of us growing up between the end of World War II and the late 1970’s seemed to follow the crowd, as any self-respecting teen might.  And one thing both sexes went especially wild and crazy for in those days was shoes. 

At the top of most any male’s clothing list in the 1950’s was a shoe that became iconic, and is in fact, still around.  I’m speaking of the classic high top Converse All-Star basketball shoe.  If you were a male and made it through high school between the late 40’s and late 60’s without at least one pair of these babies in your possession, you were a certified dork.  Not only well made, these mostly white, (with a little red and blue here and there) shoes were excellent examples of footwear for any growing boy to lace himself in to—which we did with great frequency, both off and on the court. 

And on the dressy side for the stylish young man about town, there was another shoe—a must-have that must be recalled and discussed.

They were called Threadneedles.  Made by the International Shoe Company in St. Louis, they were designed by those in command at Boyd’s, the great men’s store at 6th and Olive in what was then Missouri’s largest city, Threadneedle Street shoes (the full product name) were in a class all their own.  These shoes, which I think weighed about 4 pounds apiece, were not only good for your feet, ankles and knees, they were downright indestructible.  Suitable attire to wear with these orange-toned kicks were dress slacks, suits or Levis.

(A fashion note:  Other shoe companies, trying to catch the wave, made products that looked somewhat like our Threadneedles, but because Boyd’s held a patent on the Real McCoy, the competition could get close, but were denied the cigar.  And the one stitching feature that set Threadneedles apart was the raised design that ran down the side of each shoe.  Stretching from wing tip on the toe to the pattern around the heel counter, this design did not curve downward as it moved toward the toe, and pick up again as it headed toward the heel.  Instead, It went straight back, from the bottom of the bal-cut front just behind the wing tip to the heel design. 

And that little feature  made all the difference. 

We were so proud of these storm-welted beauties that many of us would meet downtown on Saturday mornings and have them professionally shined by a great black guy named Leon.  A smart fellow, he was our friend—and being about 10 years older than us, considered him a mentor, as we badgered him for advice while he performed his magic on our shoes.

So popular were these Threadneedles, that later, when attending college in another state, I could spot male Missourians—strangers I didn’t know—just by the shoes they wore!

Frequently, the girls of this period wore black and white saddles, a foot-cover that had been around for almost 30 years by the time we came along.  Worn with white ‘bobby’ socks, and almost always with a skirt, saddles shared time with penny loafers (which came with a small slit in the leather upper, in which you would insert a penny, for good luck).  Loafers were also worn with bobby socks, (the source of the word ‘bobby’ was never made clear; some say it had to do with bobby pins.) 

Later in high school, girls took to wearing Capezio flats, which like the Converse All-Stars, are still being made.  Emerging from a European company that previously made only ballet shoes, these dainty little numbers came in a variety of colors, but always in the basic, round-toed, easy-to-wear slip-on flat.

Being the observant male as I was and still am, I noted that the more dressy “high” heels worn in those days by young ladies had more utility to them than the wildly expensive, terrible-for-your-feet towering monsters sold today.  Usually featured in two and three inch heel levels, with gently pointed toe, they were otherwise plain, except for color.  The basic “pump” (the word comes from the middle-English “pomp,” meaning to be stylish) could usually be found available in black, white, blue, gray, red, yellow or green leather—and in other colors I haven’t thought of.  And if a young woman wanted to match her shoes to the color of her dress, a ‘colorless’ pair could be literally dyed (special dye; special fabric) to match that dress exactly. 

(This feature was called by its French name, “peau de soie” (“poh-duh-swah”).  I never knew what the phrase meant back then, but knew how it was used, and what to call it.  I found out much later that it referred to the dull fabric of which the shoe was constructed—making it ideal for dyeing.) 

Since 50’s women generally weren’t encouraged to be as athletic as they are today, the “tennis” shoes they wore ran from the simple Keds-type, which offered little support, but were cute—to the stronger, actual “tennis” shoe, used mostly, as you would figure, when playing tennis.  

And the colors available?  Just one; White.

Even if we dressed alike back then, it was part of what growing up was meant to be, as it is today.  We had fun emulating each other, and loved donning our skinny rep ties and light blue Gant dress shirts and Levis (half inch cuff, with just a hint of a break) before picking up our dates.  And when she opened her front door to greet us, she might have been wearing a “Peter Pan” collar over a pink angora short-sleeve sweater with puffy sleeves, and tight, straight skirt, a couple of inches below the knee.  Together then, we’d be ready to enjoy the company of each other and our peers, our outfits capped off by what covered our feet: Our Capezio and Threadneedle Street shoes.

As I remember, we looked pretty cool.

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