One of the most liberating moments of my young life took place in 1968, when, at age 14, the school dress code finally loosened to the point where it ceased to exist.
I had always hated the compulsory skirts and knee socks that allowed the cold wind to freeze us girls as we walked to and from school. I definitely felt more comfortable in every way in my ratty, ripped jeans that I wore to school the minute I was able.
Feminism was blooming, although the death of the school dress code had more to do with the general chaos of the times.
I was beyond excited to learn that there were girls and women who were looking at an alternative to what I saw as the uninspiring future destiny as a housewife or a member of the “female professions” — as in when my ex-Marine high school guidance counselor sent me crying from his office when he suggested that I attend secretarial school.