Schoolgirls

It was back to school for the high schoolers last Thursday, though you would not think so from their uniformed presence in the malls on Friday. I’m continually disturbed in Melbourne by the sight of schoolgirls in their uniforms. Over the holidays, they took their smock-like summer uniforms and turned them into figure-hugging, breast-spilling, hip-hugging, thigh-declaring porno garments. I wonder how long it will take the nuns and other teachers to notice. It took me all of 5 minutes and my eyes were glued to this sea of competing anatomical features, the effect enhanced by the fact that it was 43 degrees in the shade and wet, wet, wet. Uniform surgery has a long history, but it usually related to shortening and lengthening hems in line with fashion. Those were the days when the nuns sadistically (not at all scophilically) presided over knicker inspection to check the girls wore regulation navy blue high-gusset knickers. But what I saw this week was crazy and the g-string (if that) has replaced the high gusset for sure. Recent Melbourne visitors Paris Hilton and Madonna have a lot to answer for. They may have been children at the end of last year but this year they are full-blooded, blossomed, blown and succulent (this word is chosen as a tribute to Harold Pinter, who I miss). Feminists everywhere unite and tell me what I should do.

But I’m innocent. I just love the lyrics to that old song: “She started a heatwave/ By letting her feet wave”.