Shopping with Megsey
by Rae McKinlay
It seems like another lifetime as I sit here in West Cork, Ireland, recalling the days of my youth. I lived in the suburbs and strangely enough, when I reflect I can only really remember sunny days. I know this to be a falsehood because as we all know Glasgow is no stranger to rain. However, perhaps the sunny reflections are the warmth of a happy childhood.
This is a story, a true tale of two young teenagers, taking a trip into the city. It was something that was not uncommon for teenagers to do. The following is a story of the day when my best friend and I headed for the city.
Megsey’s mother’s warning broke the silence of the tree lined avenue, ”If you break your neck on those things don’t come running to me.” At fifteen, my friend Megsey and I were learning to turn the volume down on our parents’ voices, so we gave a curt smile and carried on our journey to the train station.
It was the Easter holidays and we were on our way into the city. The endless cleaning, serving and arranging fruit and vegetables in the window seemed now to have paid off. I had money in my pocket, thanks to my Saturday job with Malcolm Campbell’s. I worked from 10am until 4pm, weighing the odd onion for a pensioner’s stew or the solitary banana for a child. There were always fruit and vegetables to stack and Saturdays were very busy.
Often, I would eavesdrop into customers’ conversations with each other as they discussed rising prices or the issues of the day. Unusually, the train arrived on schedule and I boarded, one foot furtively after the other. I never quite had the grace of my friend on platforms. I waddled like a duck.
The journey was short and soon we arrived at Queen Street Railway Station. “Do you want to get your ears pierced at Robin Hood first?” I said to Megsey. Robin Hood was a jeweller shop not far from George Square. It was the place that I got my own ears pierced. My mother had been rather reluctant but I managed to persuade her to get my ears pierced for my birthday. It seemed that each week another classmate came in parading newly pierced gold earrings.
“No. Let’s get my skirt first.”
My feet were beginning to ache, platforms were certainly not made for shopping in the city but I didn’t not want to ruin the day by moaning, so I agreed and we both made our way to the Skirt and Slack Centre in Sauchiehall Street.
The Skirt and Slack Centre was not as stylish as Chelsea Girl or Virgo. It did what it said on the label. It sold skirts and trousers. Now the reason for this visit to this particular store was that the box-pleat skirt was in fashion at school and it was the only place we knew that stocked them. The box-pleat skirt was straight at the back with some pleats at the front.
We stepped into the store and Megsey headed straight for the rack of box-pleat skirts. We both allowed our eyes to scan over the colours: navy, black, blue, red and Megsey’s chosen colour, white.
“White!” I exclaimed.
“With a nice top it will go down well at the next disco”.
“I suppose it will,” I replied.
It was certainly nicer than my black one I had. But then I often it wore it to school and perhaps that made the skirt less likeable.
Purchase in hand, we then made our way down Renfield Street. Like a beacon, the pillar box red of Bus Stop signalled. I was fond of this boutique, for me there was no other store as good. It had the sense of what I imagined Carnaby Street would be like with all its trendy shops. Bus Stop for a young girl of fifteen was the pinnacle of high fashion.
“Should you not be at school?”, the impeccably made-up assistant said as we entered the store.
“No, it's a school holiday”, I responded, and quickly eyed the bright and colourful clothes seducing customers to buy for the forthcoming summer.
I took a sideways glance and my eyes caught a pair of pink, white and purple trousers, harem-styled, elastic waistband, and elastic frills around the ankle.
Megsey’s eyes widened as she looked in disbelief.
“Surely not, Rae!”
“They are absolutely fab”, I remarked, trying to sound cool.
Megsey stepped forward and looked at the price.
“You can’t be serious. You can get two box-pleats for the price of these.”
I moved forward and reached for them and hoped that they would fit. Being a scrawny youth, I still had a problem with getting what I called ‘adult clothes’ to fit. I was lucky, they fitted well and I was delighted. When the assistant placed the trousers into the Bus Stop carrier bag and handed it to me, I was over the moon and raised the carrier bag into the air and exhibited it as though I had just won a trophy.
I strutted out the boutique with the swagger of an open-winged peacock. It was the first time I had bought any item of clothing with my own money and, more to the point, without my mother accompanying me. I was free to choose what I wanted rather than being coerced into clothing that my mother thought appropriate.
“How about we get something to eat before you get your ears pierced?”, I said.
“Does it hurt?” Megsey’s voice trailed.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”
Megsey’s lips were tightly fixed together. She said nothing, but as in the silent language of understanding through friendship, we zig-zagged back up Renfield Street to Littlewoods in Sauchiehall Street. For some reason, Sauchiehall Street appealed to us more than Argyle Street, and perhaps that lay in my preference for the Sauchiehall Street branch of Littlewoods.
Perhaps, despite being fifteen, I had grown comfortable with Littlewoods’ restaurant. It was the place my mother and I used to go for something to eat after I visited the dental hospital. I looked forward to having one of their gorgeous creamy cakes after my visit and thankfully, those visits on the whole were just check-ups. On the days that I did get some treatment, like a filing, my mother and I would bypass Littlewoods and head for the train.
“It’s good being an adult, isn’t it” I said, wiping the cream from my lips. “Shall we go to Robin Hood now?”
Megsey looked up, her Bambi eyes fixing on me.
“I’ve overspent,” she sighed. “When you were in the bathroom, I sneaked over there and bought this handbag, it will go great with my new skirt.” She then proceeded to take a white canvas bag from a Littlewoods’ bag.
“It’s lovely”, I said, and then added, “We will need to do this again.”
