Merseyside blues

A lovely photograph of a wet, East End street from the early fifties, with one woman, enigmatic, walking away from us, umbrella up, in her - what colour ? - belted mac. (Probably blue, that was then the prevalent colour, whether for marketing reasons, or because the dyes then available made this the most viable colour). [Yes, I think blue - LE.]

A nostalgic picture that could have been anywhere in a working class street in a Britain recovering from the War.

I only remember Liverpool, Birkenhead and smaller local places. It seemed then that the whole female world wore rubber macs, at least when it was raining, or was going to rain. For the many less well-off, of course, the mac was the main thing you wore outside, it didn't matter about the rain.

I loved to play with styles - styles, seen and later imagined, which varied from the belted mac, hooded and unhooded, to the mac which hung loose - to me, lasciviously loose - and was worn open in fair weather so one could see the lining, to the cape, preferred by the older woman, but so often borrowed by the teenage daughter. The prevalent material was rubberised cotton, though a few were taffeta. Only rarely did the mac spoil itself (don't you agree?) by indulging in a loose cotton lining.

Then, the colours.

Blue indeed seemed the choice of millions, but red was popular, and then probably green, then brown(s) and grey. As well there were many patterned macs: tartans for example. And with all patterns, there was fascination in spotting the colour of the rubber linings; red, green or blue.

Occasionally, and this was and remains my favourite colour, there was yellow. The image of a beautiful blonde woman in a beautiful yellow mac: well, words fail me!

I so well remember, in 1952 (or maybe 3?), after taking the Mersey ferry, catching an early bus at the Liverpool Pier Head, so early there were only two on the bus, me and a lovely young woman in a mid-brown rubber mac, belted with no hood but a nicely turned up 'bolero' collar. I was too shy, then, to ask if we could meet some evening, but we both spent the short time before she had to alight smiling at each other...

Then there was the evening, in Birkenhead, walking back to a bus stop from nightschool, when towards me, in her mid-green, belted mackintosh, came a young woman, perhaps two years older than I and generously proportioned, so that her large breasts seemed to be pushing their way forward against the rubber lining.

The swish and rustle as she passed, coupled with the lovely faint smell of the rubber and a woman's body inside it and were mindblowing. At any rate, there was some such feeling inside me. But I never saw her again.

There were several other marvellous imprintations, but these two remain the most romantic for they were brief, untouchable happenings, that came and went so quickly, but the memory is still as fresh, fifty years on, as if they had happened yesterday.

Bryan

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