July 16, 2021

As a little girl, I had one those dressing tables with a fabric skirt. My Mum had one, too. We both had a hairbrush and mirror set; hers was in antique silver and mine was in French Ivory. I never used it, but it did make for a fancy display. I also had this perfumed powder that came with a pale pink puff that I used to smother all over my face. That felt fancy, too. I used to love those scenes in old movies of women primping in the mirror. These days, it’s a flick of mascara, hair in a knot, and we’re out. No one spends an hour getting ready anymore. But back then it was an art form. The cocktails, the Crepe de Chine robe, the 1950s jazz tunes in the background; it all seemed so glamorous. I think I was around 11 or 12 when my Mum replaced my dressing table with a desk. The desk was a lot more practical. I did my homework at that desk and listened to Chris Tarrant on the radio. I still have the hairbrush and mirror set though. It even has my name engraved into it.


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