I was three when World War Two ended. For several years clothes were still rationed and we were poor, so every Easter mam would take me to Clay's clothes shop and buy me new clothes "on the club" which she paid for weekly until the next Easter when "club was up" and she'd do it all again. If there was anything left on the club after I'd been sorted she bought something for herself. When necessary clothes were mended, worn out shoes were mended at the cobblers. Clothes I grew out of but were still useable were passed on to the kid across the street who's family were even poorer than us otherwise they went in the "rag bag" for when the rag-a-bone man came round.
Clothes were chosen for their hard wearing qualities not the label. Mam was very proud of the fact that I never had second-hand clothes like most of the kids in our part of Radford and I realised even then how lucky I was to have a mam who always put my needs first.
Nobody, myself included would choose to go back to those times but after watching Stacey Dooley's documentary on BBC "Fashion's Dirty Secret" I have to wonder if future generations may have to.
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