ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, March 27, 1997 TAG: 9703270009
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: BETH MACY
SOURCE: BETH MACY
Lenore Willis and Brenda Foster were pushing strollers on a recent rainy morning at Valley View Mall in Roanoke. Lenore was looking for a dress to wear for Easter Sunday. Brenda was just browsing The Gap, trying to beat the cabin-fever blahs.
The two mothers had surveyed the spring fashion scene, and they had just one thing to say:
Polyester.
``My dad wore that outfit to the beach in the '70s,'' Brenda sighed, pointing toward the striped sweater that was matched with a plaid pair of polyester-blend bermuda shorts.
The only thing missing from the men's ensemble was the white socks and brown loafers - and they were in the back of the store.
A Perma-Press primer
When polyester was first marketed in 1953, smoking was even more hazardous than it is today. Not only were you endangering your lungs, you were liable to melt your shorts into an evil wad of petrochemical poison.
Although polyester afforded the luxury of not having to iron, it also carried three distinct disadvantages:
In the summer it refused to breathe, causing you to sweat profusely.
In the winter it contracted, putting your leg hairs in a choke hold.
And when the natural-fibers movement came along in the mid-'70s and booted polyester into the annals of bad taste - and then your dad wore it to the beach anyway - you could have died.
The need for UV protection
Maybe it's an age thing.
But during three recent shopping excursions, two at Tanglewood and one at Valley View, I couldn't shake the feeling that the world around me was reverting, egregiously, to the seventh grade.
And who wants to go back to zippered shirts? Tube tops? Shades of orange and yellow so intensely bright that the wearer needs to buy an umbrella-insurance policy - to safeguard against retina-damage lawsuits?
And keep in mind the havoc a simple hangnail can wreak on a pair of double-knit slacks.
But alas, the world is being filled again with clothes that don't need pressing. The same week the Fat Police declared that Americans are at a record-breaking level of obesity, clerks at Express set out rack upon rack of tie-dyed polyester stretch pants, thigh-length polyester frocks with a design reminiscent of your grandmother's housecoat and translucent (part-polyester) dresses with spaghetti straps.
Linen, we hardly knew ye ...
The adult fashions weren't much better than the juniors.
Clad in Levi's and a sweater, Brenda Foster stood in The Gap entranceway, where she made this keen observation: ``You can actually buy yourself some lime-green stretch pants, then go to the Limited Too and get the exact same pants for your daughter.''
With a nod to the men's display, her buddy Lenore added: ``Look, you can get 'em for your husband, too!''
The women tended to their toddlers - who were pretty overstimulated by the Marcia Bradyness of it all- and then the three of us trailed off down the mall in our old cotton clothes. Old and out of it.
It was not unlike the feeling a mother gets the first time she licks her thumb and uses it to remove ketchup from her kid's face:
She has become her mother and, the scary thing is, she doesn't even mind.
I made a mental note to embarrass my own kid one day, somewhere around seventh grade - by wearing natural fibers to the beach.
LENGTH: Medium: 72 linesby CNB