Girdled Britain: The 1960s
I grew up in a town on the edge of London, reaching my fifteenth birthday in 1960. The next few years were what has come to be known as "the golden era" of the girdle, and I lived in a household where the girdle seemed to be an ever-present, but rarely-mentioned garment. I had three elder sisters, two, four, and six years older than me (my parents were nothing if not consistent!), and so you can work out that in 1960, two-thirds of our house were girdle wearers! Indeed, I imagine that until my sisters began to "flee the nest", there must have been twenty or more girdles in circulation.They were, it seemed, almost everywhere: in the airing cupboard, on the washing line, over chairs (a favourite haunt of the girdle for some reason!), or hanging up to dry in the kitchen.
At the time, all girdles looked remarkably similar: twelve to fifteen inches deep, rather rubbery in texture, and open-bottomed, with four garters ("suspenders" in England), and a firm panel at the front. Panty girdles only really made an appearance towards the end of the decade, and primarily because they could be worn without stockings, and so were useful under pants (trousers) and shorts; subsequently they were of course worn under panty hose (tights). The only difference between the girdles in my house was that my mother, who was in her mid-to-late forties, preferred something stronger than the girdles favoured by her daughters, and sometimes higher waisted. Indeed, she used to wear a corselette on "special occasions".
Girdles were, of course, seldom if ever mentioned. My sisters used occasionally to refer to their "roll-ons"; my mother talked about a "belt". The 'g' word was considered impolite. Yet for adult females, and to some extent for women in their teens, wearing them was virtually obligatory.
Some feminist writers have tried to blame men for this. But I'm sure my father had nothing to do with the fact that his wife and daughters wore girdles. Indeed, I doubt that he ever referred to them. On one occasion he wanted a bath, and complained to my mother that there was "something hanging out to dry" in the bathroom. No prizes for guessing what that something was!
There seem to have been various reasons for this nearly-universal girdle wearing. The first was tradition: "everyone" wore girdles (as, fifty years before, they had worn corsets). It was the convention, the norm. I can remember being surprised when I first put my arm round the waist of a slim seventeen year old girlfriend, to find that she was wearing what felt to me like quite a strong girdle. I'm sure there was no "need" for her to wear one, from the point of view of her figure. She was just expected to, so she did. On another occasion, another girlfriend, towards the end of a good dinner, with plenty of wine, remarked naughtilly, "I wish I could go and take my girdle off; I've got a new one on and it's tight!".But did she in fact go to the bathroom and take her girdle off? No, of course not!
Second, girdles were perceived, normally correctly, to make a woman look slimmer and better-turned-out. So, for these two reasons, a mother would expect her daughters to follow her example, and wear a girdle. Next, the media was certainly "pro-girdle". Fashion correspondents urged their use. One even suggested (I imagine jokingly!), that there should be a law making girdles compulsory. She needn't have worried: in practice they were. One magazine, "The Young Elizabethan", for teenage boys and girls, did an article on a girl's wardrobe, including the clear message that any female reader still wearing a garter/suspender belt, should replace it with a girdle. This was backed up by some sketches of recommended garments, and they did look rather formidable.
The girdle manufacturers cashed in on this by some fairly pervasive advertising. I can remember walking past a large advertising hoarding high up on a building in a busy city street: from it a young lady was gazed down on us demurely in her girdle. Similarly, the "Girdle ad" was a familiar aspect of the "London Underground" (subway). Waiting for the train you saw large pictures of girdled ladies smiling at you across the electric track. Similar pictures were to be seen as you sped up and down on the escalator. The message was clear: "Women all wear girdles, so why not this brand?"
I am less, if at all qualified, to comment on "peer pressure," but I imagine that if everyone else changing for gym was wearing a girdle, you would too. Be that as it may, the message got through. In the dusty high street of my home town, at least three shops displayed in their front windows a great variety of girdles, on a regular basis. And, as I have said, they were primarily open-bottomed, with, I gather, panties being worn on top. From what I can understand, they were preferred because you could pull one on in the morning, anchor it down with your stockings, and keep it in place all day. It kept you in place too; held up your stockings; and you could tuck your vest into it. Altogether a most convenient garment!
British ad, 1963. For more, visit Room 108 of the Zona Gallery.
The Girdle Taboo
In England in the sixties, girdles were very high-profile: on advertising hoardings, in newspaper fashion columns, in television and cinema commercials, and on washing lines and bedroom chairs. But there were some very marked exceptions. They were not mentioned in polite (or even impolite) conversation. Neither were they mentioned or featured on television programmes (as opposed to commercials) or in movies. Indeed, some (archaic) guidance from "The Lord Chancellor" said that "women's undergarments" should not appear in such media. There was of course a degree of illogicality to this: they could appear openly and constantly in advertisements, but not in anything purporting to be like "real life". A two-piece bathing costume: yes; a bra and panty girdle: no. A boned one piece swim suit: yes. A corselette: no.
In England, I have heard, the taboo was greater than in the USA. I can remember references to girdles (normally humorous) on American television programmes (though I cannot remember actually seeing one displayed), but only one on an English programme. This was, incidentally, in a 1972 play, about a respectable middle-class woman who had been arrested for shop-lifting. She was asked to list all the goods she had stolen. The detective seemed to stumble at one item. "That's a panty-girdle", the lady replied,"and you can't see it because I'm wearing it".
Note two things here. First, the year was 1972, when we were a little more open. Second, she would have been wearing a panty, as opposed to open-bottom, girdle, because of the advent of panty-hose. But this isolated mention was quite exceptional. Indeed, I cannot think of a single reference in fiction by a British female author to a girdle. British men, yes (John Braine, John Masters and Malcolm Bradbury spring to mind). And north American women (Mary McCarthy, Margaret Atwood and Marilyn French for example), but no British female.
So why the taboo? Well, one theory is that women don't like mentioning girdles "because it's an admission that they have figure problems". Somehow, I doubt this. Nearly all women in the sixties wore girdles, whether they had "figure problems" or not. Probably the answer must be a sexual one. Of course, such matters were not discussed very openly in the sixties, the golden age of the girdle. And that increased the taboo. Indeed, many people might well not have realised that a girdle even could be sexy: I can remember one female fahion colunmist referring to a panty girdle as "inherently unsexy", an observation on which I will not comment! But sex was there. Why else were all magazines freely available in our local library except for "Corsetry and Underwear", which you had to ask the librarian for!?
I can think of another illustration, this time from 1963. I was doing a holiday job as a clerk in a local building firm. Barbara, a pleasant middle-aged lady was late one day: she had had to call the police! "My corset was stolen from the washing line," she told a female colleage (within earshot!). "That must have been embarassing; what did you say?" was the reply. " I referred to it as a 'foundation garment'," said Barbara. Now, I'm quite sure that Barbara didn't wear a "corset". I'm sure when she bought it in the shop she talked about a girdle. But apart from in shops, the "G-Word" was virtually never used in spoken conversation! And I'm sure no-one thought that the girdle was stolen by or even for a lady to wear: no, we all knew, that it must have been a... man!
And that brings me to my next point. Women were expected to wear girdles. Men were emphatically not expected to! A dictionary definition of a girdle is an "elasticised undergarment for supporting or shaping the waist or hips". Now, men do not have breasts, so they do not need bras. But they do have waists and hips, so why not a girdle? That is, I suppose, a rhetorical question! Suffice to say, that the full dictionary definition is, "a woman's elasticised undergarment..."!
Hd the girdle been a "uni-sex" garment, then I suspect that Barbara's would have been safer, not least if it was as "compulsory" for males as for females! But the concept of "uni-sex" was almost unknown in the sixties, unlike now when we can use the same hairdressers and shampoo, and all wear jeans and t-shirts or sweat shirts at week-ends. Generally, men and women were more "compartentalised", and conventions more rigid. But yes, as I imply, the taboo increased the excitement, and was indeed probably the main cause, following the theory that, "forbidden fruit always tates better". And, I suppose, that is still the case today: when a woman puts on a girdle, she is entering a female domain, a "secret garden". And this adds an exoticism, yes, even an eroticism, to life, a pleasure for which we must be grateful!
The Demise of the Girdle
Much has been written on the subject, "whatever happened to the Girdle?" and many theories expounded. Here is a British view.
In Britain, as elsewhere, the decline of the girdle was swift and sudden. In 1966 I went to a very smart ball at my university. I imagine that almost all the young ladies there were girdled; certainly my partner was, as were the others I danced with. Some would even have been "corsetted" from their thighs to their armpits, by means of a long leg girdle, and a long bra down to their waists. Yet scarcely five years later, and certainly ten years later, it is likely that few girdles would have been worn at such an event. What happened?
Well, one received truth is that "panty-hose ("tights") came in; so there was no need for garters. Garters were attached to girdles. And "no garters" equals "no girdles". In the British context, there is some truth in this. Without panty-hose, the girdle's demise would have been much less. In the days of stockings, of course, there always was an alternative to a girdle: the garter belt. But these were decidedly unfashionable, worn only by the early teens or the decidedly unsmart. Had it not been for panty-hose, I cannot see the middle-aged 1969 housewife, in "the spirit of the age" throwing away her girdle and putting on a garter belt. Indeed, she would have in all probability moved into a panty girdle, and worn one under panty hose. But panty girdles were never very popular in England, and in time many women went on to abandon them too. Wearing a girdle was no longer perceived to be "necessary".
This was, of course, due to the "spirit of the age". Up to 1970, many fashions were rigidly enforced (sometimes literally!). This included not only the girdle, but skirt lengths, short hair on men, and gloves for women. A decade or so earlier, hats had been almost compulsory for both sexes. After that, there was far more freedom of choice: far more options.
Yet in many ways wearing a girdle was not included in those options. The smart young woman who in 1965 would never dream of not wearing a girdle was replaced by young woman of 1975 who would not even consider wearing one. The press and fashion books turned against them. "Symbols of male oppression" was one theme (though from what I can gather most young women were introduced to girdles by their mothers, and there was a theory that "guys hated them"). Another was that "girdles weakened the stomach muscles", though there never seemed to be any proof of that. The third angle was perhaps more understandable. Girdles were portrayed as stiff and uncomfortable. One distinguished British journalist (born 1947) wrote recently of the "hideously uncomfortable roll-on girdles" she was obliged to wear as a teenager. When these writers found that such girdles were not in fact obligatory, there was a feeling of bitterness: "Why did we have to wear them in the first place?"
In the face of this, the girdle manufactures and their advertising companies appeared to submit weakly. Around 1960, the "Little X" range of girdles was lunched in Britain, in the wake of a major advertising campaign. It worked. "Little X" sales exceeded all expectations. In marked contrast, in the 1970s there was no such campaign, no concerted attempt at a revival. Girdle advertisements disappeared from the London Underground (Subway), and to a large extent from the press: the option of the girdle was hardly publicised. Major retailers ceased stocking girdles. And the decline continued.
But it was a decline, a demise, but not a death. As someone pointed out to me recently, another casualty of thirty years ago was "pancake make-up": but, as she pointed out, make up is still here, but in a more subtle way. And the same can be said of the "control garments" which have to some extent succeeded girdles. Certainly, there is far less hostility to them. They are again "an option". And, I'm told, a lot more comfortable than their predecessors!
Girdles at Home
Many years ago, in the 1960's, I remember reading a short story about a woman of about fifty, who obviously felt out of sorts with life. She needed a tonic, a fling even. "Yet," she said, "when I hoist myself into my upholstered bra and struggle into my expensive girdle in front of my husband every morning, I wonder how he puts up with me." My reaction to that narrative was perhaps an unusual one: I envied the husband! I wondered if he knew how lucky he was! Yet, I imagine, for years, many husbands were treated to such a sight each day. How many of them enjoyed it, appreciated it or liked it, I don't know. But at the very least it expressed an easy intimacy.
I often wondered if being born in the mid 1940's was not the best time for someone who appreciated girdles. True, I had the pleasure of dancing and dates with girdled girlfriends; and of seeing exciting looking girdle ads. But suddenly, well, it almost all disappeared. Had I been born fifteen years earlier, I would have had more time to enjoy it; had I been born fifteen years later, I would have been scarcely aware of girdles anyhow. As it was, from the seventies onwards, my glimpses into the girdle world were confined to the occasional literary or media reference; clothing catalogs; or (ever decreasing) displays of girdles in shops.
Marrying in the 1970's in effect meant that there was unlikely to be a girdle in the home (at least, not in England). My wife had, she told me, worn one in her late teens, but was glad she "no longer had to." And she didn't have to. She was tall and slim, and stayed that way, thanks to plenty of exercise and a sensible diet. But come her half century, we were both conscious that perhaps a little extra help was needed. I remarked once, gently, "Your tummy is beginning to stick out." She took it well,"Yes, I'm afraid it is, a bit."
It turned out that she was not alone. Apparently a friend at work, of her age, had confided to her about a similar problem. And the friend, Janey, had started to "wear a girdle again." Note the "again." If you'd worn a girdle earlier in life, you knew they were there to help. And Janey had recommended this girdle, from a well-known High Street store.
Well, a few weeks later, we were dressing to meet friends for dinner at a smart local restaurant. And out came...the new girdle, as recommended by Janey. "Ooh, you look smart in that!", I said. And she did. "Yes," replied my wife, "It fits well, doesn't it? Janey told me about it."
Well, it did fit well, and a few weeks later it was getting towards Christmas, so I decided to buy her a second one. It was nowhere as difficult as I'd thought. I knew the style and the size. The young sales assistant thought nothing of it."We're selling plenty of these", she said with a nice smile, "is it a Christmas present?." When I said that it was, she even wrapped it in special Christmas paper -- all part of the service!
Since then there's been a Christmas/Birthday present tradition, and my wife is happily wearing girdles again: medium control for work, lighter ones for the weekend, and a slightly firmer one for special occasions. I say happily, since I once asked her,"Do you like that new girdle?"
To which she replied,"yes of course I do, silly. I wouldn't wear it if I didn't like it." Also, she regards girdle wearing to be the natural order of things. "Of course I'm wearing a girdle," she replied recently when I asked her.
Yes, my wife does know that I like her in girdles: it would be difficult for her not to. But I have not been the only one to encourage her. Inadvertently two of her female friends have done so too, in my hearing: " Hey, you do look slim!" On both occasions she has been wearing a new girdle (a secret she kept to herself: and me!). But in truth, it seems that wearing a girdle (at least a well-fitting one) need longer be uncomfortable. Yes, they do give control, to hold tummies in, but I've read that developments in fibres have meant that the degree of comfort has increased markedly since the 1960's. Certainly they look a lot "easier." Yet, there is an irony, isn't there? In the 1960's when "every woman wore a girdle," they were stiff and uncomfortable. But although the comfort factor has increased considerably, we are still a very long way from the amount of girdle-wearing there was thirty five years ago!
The Girdle Community: A Perspective
The girdle is an honourable successor to hundreds of years of corsetry.
Eighteenth century accounts of visits to the "staymaker", or
nineteenth century accounts of a girl's "first stays" have obvious
mid-twentieth century parallels: the corsetiere, and the "defining
moment" of the first girdle. Indeed, up to the First World War, corsets
were almost universally worn by "western" women, by which I
mean, broadly, European and American women, as, sussequently, were girdles.
But even at the height of corset/girdle wearing, the great majority of
women in the world as a whole did not wear them: corsets and girdles were
(and to some extent are), a whim of western fashion, not an anatomical
necessity, as some people used to claim.
There has, of course, always been a delightful illogicality about corset and girdle wearing. That is part of their charm. In nineteenth century Britain, almost the only group of women who did not wear corsets regularly (apart from a slum-dwelling underclass), were those who worked in mills and factories. Corsets were perceived as being "too restricting" to wear to work, and were only worn under Sunday best. Yet in mid-twentieth century Britain, female factory workers chose to wear extra-firm girdles "for support." I noticed the reality of this when I was a student for a year in the north of England. My landlady worked in a mill, and her girdles, prominently displayed drying on a line over the living room fire, were of an "industrial" strength which would have held little appeal for her southern, middle-class counterparts.
That was, of course, in the mid-sixties, "The Golden Age." But how golden was it? Well, girdle-wearing was at its height, but in many ways that made things as difficult for men attracted to girdled women as the "wilderness years" that followed. First, whilst I am sure that it was generally at least suspected that there was a sexual element to the girdle, it was rarely if ever voiced. Indeed, they were often portrayed as being specifically "non-sexy." To have said that one was attracted by a girdle would have been deeply shocking; unthinkable even. But in that context, it must be remembered that up to the sixties, any form of sexual predilection, other than straightforward (controlled!) heterosexuality was rather frowned on, whether or not it was in any way harmful. As it was, nearly all my female friends wore girdles. Certainly, this added to their attraction. But in practice there was very little I could do about it. At least that temptation was removed to a large extent in the seventies!
But being a member of what we now know is a "Girdle Community" was (and in many cases, I gather, still is), a lonely predicament. Even in the 1970's, when attitudes were more liberal, it was hardly recognised. Books on sex were liable to dismiss it to a footnote: "a rare phenomenon" -- perhaps viewed (inaccurately) as some variation of "panty fetish" or transvestism. As far as I could gather, there was no form of "support group." It was all "too personal." No-one talked about it.
That, of course, is where Zona comes into its own. How large a community we in fact are, both geographically and numerically, must be a matter of conjecture, but it seems that we are mainly from economically developed countries (i.e. places where girdles are/were worn), and that we grew up at a time when girdle-wearing was the norm. It is interesting, but probably of no great point, to speculate about other factors.
It is also interesting to think about the future. It could be that the concept of "control" is returning. If it is, and for as long as it is, this community will surely continue. It might alter somewhat, and develop, but I doubt if it will go away!
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