Mum grabs a pack of white vests with the same ‘back to school’ branding before lingering at the selection of socks and tights. “Anything you like?” she asked. “Knee socks maybe?” she added, picking a pack of pelerine ‘school’ socks from the display and having a closer look.
“Nah.” I replied. “I wouldn’t wear them.”
“They’re nice though… and we both know you’ve tried her old uniforms on.”
“Yeah but… I like tights.” I humbly stated.
“Knee socks are nice too.” she replied, adding that they’re only a couple of pounds and it’ll be nice to have a variety. I conceded and Mum suggested we look at the footwear. “If they have some of those ballet pumps you like for not much money, I’ll buy you some.”
“I can’t try shoes on Mum.” I said under my breath as I briskly followed her down the aisle. “Not like this.” I added, gesturing to my clearly boyish appearance.
The footwear department has benches at the end of each aisle. Mum sits me on a bench at the end of boy’s aisle and asked me to kick off one of my shoes. I do as asked and pass it to her. “Won’t be long.” she said before turning on her heel and leaving me guarding our shopping bags. I considered their contents whilst I waited; knickers, vests, tights, pyjamas, two LPs and a T shirt that I really do want and some knee socks that I really didn’t want. I gulped as I visualised wearing them. As much as I wanted to deny it, my mother was absolutely right about my sister’s old school uniforms. I’ve worn both of them; the navy blue skirt the girls wear at my school (usually with navy blue tights) and her old uniform with the itchy green tights. Some of the girls at my school wear their skirts with knee socks but it’s not a look I admire. Ankle socks are OK but knee socks, I figure, are more suited to junior school than high school. All of a sudden, my mother is standing over me. “Here you are.” she said, passing my shoe back to me.
