In 7th grade, the boys were shuffled off to Industrial Arts to make birdhouses, hanging key holders and book ends. The girls were herded into the care of Mrs. Olivia Pimento, the terrifying Teacher of Home Economics. The year was 1958.
|Our Home Econimics Teacher, Mrs. Olivia Pimento|
Mrs. Pimento had a different idea. We would make aprons. We would need them next year in the 8th grade Cooking Gulag.
I remember aprons. The women in my family wore them. There were cute, practical everyday aprons made of colorful printed cottons trimmed with contrasting piping, ruffles and rick rack. There were appliquéd, ball-fringed holiday aprons. My mom had luncheon aprons made of crisp organdy and organza cocktail aprons with sequins. They were works of art. Some of them were even sexy.
Mrs. Pimento fancied none of them. Her taste ran to depressing, dorky and repulsive. Her fabric choice was plain solid cotton to highlight future cooking stains. Mrs. Pimento instinctively knew each girl’s favorite color and made sure the apron was not it.
I love bright red, so my fabric was yellowish sickly brownish green. No trim. No ball fringe. No ruffles. No piping. No sequins. The apron would have a bib, a gathered skirt and pockets. It looked a lot like this, but without the snappy print fabric.
We all managed to finish the year with an apron in spite of our loathsome teacher. They were an homage to ugly. And a great disappointment to Mrs. Pimento.
|A Disappointed Mrs. Pimento|
Aprons off to you, Mrs. Pimento.