Whatever happened to the dickie?

The other morning was chilly here in DC, but as the afternoon sun rose above and dried the dew, it got very warm. So warm, in fact, I wished I had not donned a turtleneck under my scrubs. It made me reminisce about a wardrobe accoutrement that would make me howl with laughter everytime I received one for Christmas. It seemed like a staple gift during my pre-teens, along with the tube of day glo knee high stockings. My mother liked accessories, boy did she like accessories. I'm not sure if she thought I was the third member of Wham! or just wanted to make sure I didn't get poached by hunters....or ever wanted me to date.

In middle school band, Mr. Kruger made us wear white dickies under our red V-neck sweaters, a navy beret completed the ensmeble.....HOT. When he said the word, "dickie," it evoked snickering from the percussion section. I remember sitting erect in my seat, thinking, "Ha....who's the cool kid now? I've got half a drawer full of dickies." After much ridicule and opting to dress unseasonably warmer than it was in VT, I traded in the dickies for the cut out collared sweatshirts of Flashdance. Now that I dress for function and have embraced my inner band geek, Mom, if you read this, I'd like a dickie for Christmas, but I'll pass on the magenta knee highs.