Category: this writing life

First published on the Centre for Youth Literature website, Inside A Dog, in 2012.

‘Looking beautiful is largely a duty,’ Vogue sternly informed young women during the war. Apparently, girls were meant to look as pretty as possible to cheer up their soldier boyfriends. Of course, girls might have wanted to look nice for themselves. Maybe they didn’t have enough coupons for a new dress, but some bright lipstick and a new hairstyle might help them forget the gloomy old war for a while.

The problem was that cosmetics were in short supply, just like everything else. Cosmetics companies such as Yardley’s and Cyclax had stopped making lipstick and perfume, so that they could concentrate on manufacturing sun protection creams and sea-water purifiers for the army. So, with no cosmetics in the shops, girls had to be creative. No mascara? Use shoe polish or burnt cork mixed with castor oil. No hand cream? Try rubbing lard or margarine or lemon juice into your hands. Perfume? Well, you might have to make do with lavender water. Unable to buy new stockings? Paint your legs with gravy powder mixed with water, then draw a ‘seam’ down the back of each leg with a pen.

Girls got creative with accessories, too. Everyone was meant to carry a gas mask at all times, in case the Germans dropped bombs filled with poison gas. Elizabeth Arden produced a special range of velvet-covered cases for gas masks, which included a silk pocket for cosmetics. When the poison gas attacks didn’t happen, people started ignoring the rules and left their gas masks at home – although some girls carried the empty case as a handbag.

Even hairstyles were affected by the war. Women in the services or working in factories needed to keep their hair up, out of the way. One popular style was the Victory Roll, an arrangement of curls held in place on top of the head with bobby pins. It got its name from either the V-shape of the hairstyle or in honour of the ‘victory rolls’ that fighter pilots would perform after an air battle. If you have long hair and would like to see how you look with a Victory Roll, here’s a handy how-to video from a modern-day girl who loves vintage fashions. Yes, I did attempt it myself. No, it wasn’t very successful, but then, I didn’t actually have any hairspray and I ran out of bobby pins. Anyone else have any success with it?

Next: Eating Well in Wartime

First published on the Centre for Youth Literature website, Inside A Dog, in 2012.

It was a bit of a challenge, dressing well during the Second World War. To illustrate why, here’s an excerpt from an early draft of The FitzOsbornes at War:

“Julia and I went to a fashion show this morning, featuring the new official ‘Utility’ outfits. Of course, they are all very plain, to conserve both materials and labour – no more than three buttons per item, only one or two pleats, no lace trimmings or turned-back cuffs, no appliqué or embroidery, and the skirts are rather short, with hardly any hem. Still, they are beautifully cut and most importantly, new. I know I was lucky to own so many clothes when the war began, but some of them seem a bit schoolgirlish and old-fashioned now, and they’re all starting to look very shabby. There’s only so much one can do as far as re-dyeing fabrics and swapping buttons and letting down hems – sometimes a girl just longs to wear something crisp and bright and unfamiliar. So we all sat there at the show (in our baggy tweed suits and grey-seamed blouses), and practically salivated over the display. Just my luck I’ve recently had to use up eleven precious clothes coupons on new shoes and some socks, so I really can’t buy anything else for a while. But Julia said she’d found some lengths of curtain material, including a very pretty pale blue cotton, so she’s going to make me a short, plain summer frock from it. I’ll give her the pearl buttons from my old white blouse that had an unfortunate encounter with a leaky pen, and I’ll see if I can find a lace handkerchief for a little collar.”

German U-boats were sinking the ships that brought supplies to England, and any available materials were requisitioned by the military, so clothes for civilians were in short supply. As a result, the British government brought in clothes rationing. At first, everyone was allowed sixty-six coupons each year, although two years later, this had fallen to a mere forty coupons. You had to pay for the clothes as well as hand over the correct number of clothing coupons, and there were complicated rules about how many coupons were needed for each garment. For example, a woman’s woollen dress required eleven coupons, but a cotton dress only seven coupons. Women’s pyjamas needed eight coupons, but a nightdress only six. Shoes needed seven coupons, stockings needed two coupons and ankle socks needed only one coupon. Balls of knitting wool and lengths of fabric were also rationed. Some women made dresses out of sheets and furnishing fabrics, but soon even these were rationed, so the really creative types used torn parachutes (which were made from silk in those days), old blankets and pillowcases. Have a look at this Ministry of Supply film clip, part of the ‘Make Do and Mend’ campaign, to see how resourceful women were. [The photo above is of some volunteers from the Women of the University War Work Group in Brisbane, 1942.]

In 1943, the first ‘Utility’ clothes went on sale. The name wasn’t very appealing, but the clothes had been designed by famous fashion designers including Hardy Amies, Edward Molyneux, Norman Hartnell and Victor Stiebel, and the outfits turned out to be very popular.

Of course, some women were in uniform because they’d enrolled in the armed services or were working as nurses (the photo above shows three US Navy nurses in 1944). The Wrens (the British women’s navy) were especially popular with women, with some debutantes confessing that they’d only enrolled in it because the uniform was so glamorous. But then, other women, doing equally important war work in munitions factories, wore distinctly unglamorous blue overalls and cotton head scarves.

If you’re interested in 1940s fashions, check out this website, which is filled with pictures of everyday clothes, wedding dresses, hats, hairstyles and more.

Next: Looking Good in Wartime, Part Two

First published on the Centre for Youth Literature website, Inside A Dog, in 2012.

The FitzOsbornes at War is set (mostly) in England during the Second World War, and my characters get involved in all sorts of adventures. Sophie, my narrator, is dragged into a spy scandal at the American Embassy in London. Her cousin Veronica helps rescue a member of the British royal family from a kidnapping attempt. Her brother Toby becomes a fighter pilot and battles Nazis in the sky. Her friends Daniel and Rupert have top-secret jobs helping the military. Then Sophie has to investigate the circumstances surrounding a dear friend’s death when the authorities seem determined to hide the truth . . .

But you’re going to have to read the book if you want to find out more about that. What I’m going to write about here is how everyday life in England changed due to the war. Which is still pretty interesting, I think.

For example, during the Second World War, the British government had lots of information it needed to get across to the public. Often, it used posters to do this. There were posters reminding people to carry their identity cards and encouraging women to join the military services. There were posters asking people to donate their binoculars to the army or send money to the Red Cross. There were posters urging people to ‘Dig for Victory’ (that is, plant more vegetables) and warning them that ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives’ (because German spies might overhear vital information and use it to plan attacks). Most memorably, there were posters to boost the morale of the public, the most famous of which is probably this:

Ironically, this poster wasn’t widely distributed during the war. More than two million copies were printed, but they were designed to be displayed only if the Germans invaded Britain. Fortunately, this didn’t happen. So, most of the posters were destroyed after the war, but a few survived. The owners of Barter Books discovered one, displayed it in their shop and eventually started printing and selling the posters, which became very popular. Then came Keep Calm-o-Matic, a website that allowed you to create your own personalised versions. Naturally, I couldn’t resist creating some for the FitzOsbornes.

First, Sophie, who needs some encouragement to keep writing in her journal:

Then, her glamorous friend Julia:

And Julia’s brother Rupert, who loves animals:

And Carlos the Portuguese Water Dog:

There are more FitzOsbornes Keep Calm posters here.

What would your Keep Calm poster say?

Next: Looking Good in Wartime