I’m glaring or sulking at the street photographer as only a 5- or 6-year-old can. Why? Because I am wearing the orange knitted suit, rather smart but A-HAND-ME-DOWN. How had I avoided hand-me-downs when Barbara was only 4 years old than me? But the only other one I remember was a dress. Not an ordinary homemade cotton dress, but a material with texture, and what’s more a black plastic belt, rather smart about which my feelings were more ambivalent.
We often didn’t had a camera so street photographers provide many Johannesburg images. You posed, they gave you a piece of paper, and if you wanted the photo you went to an office and bought it.
A little girl striding out confidently holding her grannie’s hand. We don’t know whether the street photographer caught the duo before or after The Treat. An outing to town with grannie almost guaranteed a visit to Fanny Farmers and The Treat of a slice of Cocoanut Pineapple Cake.
At home all one got were homemade biscuits and cakes, possibly delicious. But what was longed for were Bought Cakes like Pink Iced ones. The fact the Granny, who did most of the baking whilst Mother was at school, was an excellent home cook made no difference. The grass is always greener elsewhere – well cakes certainly were. So, Barbara also remembered The Treat of Pineapple Cocoanut Cake.
Granny’s baking was never scorned. In fact she used to try and hide it away as she could not bear to have everything wolfed down the same day. And after Peter was sent to boarding school, only 2 blocks from the house, her despair grew because Peter came home at the end of the school day, not alone, but with more boys hungry for home baking.
Another photo I had was of a not happy teenager. The nightmare of the school dance for which you had to have a partner, even if you knew no boys. And then the dress, chosen and made by my mother. Was I consulted? If I was, I presumably declined to be involved. What I fancied was something plain and sophisticated preferably navy or black. But teenagers did not wear such things. So, what I got was a dress which hopefully fulfilled my mother’s dreams of things she hadn’t had when young. Pink flowers – PINK! Slight frills from the shoulder – FRILLS! And in those days, one crowned one’s beauty with lace mittens.
No photo unfortunately of the next year’s dress which was plain blue and more acceptable, so a photo could have shown a less miserable teenager.
Alexander Dobson Letter
