zipperless said:
I'm guessing that the only ones who wore shorts or skirts that short back then were babies? Dogboy will probably know when he gets on later. I was still young then.
The other reference is, of course, that if there is any less fabric, all you will have left is a belt. It was the start, or at least a sign of, the sexual revolution.
Right you are Zipperless. I'm not sure about 1966, which is the date on the caption, but I do remember clearly, after I graduated college in 1970, that I went to Ohio as the organist and accompanist to the largest Methodist church in Ohio. We had 135 high school kids in the church high school aged choir, and many of the girls where skirts were so short that they left nothing to the imagination when they were sitting in the choir chairs, chairs which were on risers. As a young man sitting at the piano during rehearsals, I tried desperately not to look.....gad! And they simply didn't care. It was the age of the sexual revolution.
My generation started it with the hippie generation, though it wasn't unheard of, to just get down and naked as happened at Woodstock. We often had girls in our dorm, and at times, I thought nothing about walking back from the showers to my room, naked. Notice without the comma, my room would have been naked.
We had a lecherous voice teacher, and he used to just "show up" at the girls' dorm, supposedly looking for a female student. One day in voice pedagogy class, he said to one of our more buxom female students, "I saw you last night in the dorm, my dear. You were looking all pink and naked!" Even as crazy music students, we were appalled. This was back in the day when students had few, if any rights.
They were crazy times, and the '70s to the '80s saw the sexual revolution, disco, gay baths and crazy night clubs where anything went on. Sadly, so did the new emerging disease, HIV/AIDS. At Westminster Choir College we had a genius student who was openly gay. He was a personal friend to me and my boyfriend, (at the time, at least). On the weekends, he would go to the docks in NYC and join groups of men partying in 18 wheeler trailers. We always wondered if we would see him on Monday morning, but he somehow seemed to survive.
He was so amazing. He would take me and Buzzy, my SO, into a piano room and just sit down and start playing Brahms piano concertos for us. There wasn't anything he couldn't play on piano or organ. He went off to San Diego with some guy on the back of a motorcycle one week. They were hit by a car and the world was forever deprived of one of the greatest musical geniuses. It still makes me sad. So they were crazy, do anything if it feels good times. The problem was that eventually, you had to pay the piper.