Barbara Huffman

Some clothing encapsulates a moment, like Jackie Kennedy’s pillbox hat or John Travolta’s Saturday Night Fever white suit.  To look at the garment is to remember the moment.  For me, my 1970’s hip hugger, bell-bottom jeans recall such a certain time. 

My fashion, like the 1970s, was experimental and progressive, and I considered myself hot spit in those pants.  I owned the jeans in high school and wore them with a fringed suede belt through college.  No one else owned anything like them, flared from the knee down, frayed with fabric patches sewn on by hand embroidery covering worn areas.  Even looking at the patches evokes memories of the source of the fabric; one patch was made from my homemade purple floral halter top, one was from a dress I sewed in high school, and another was upholstery material from a chair in my parents’ living room.  Wearing the clothing was wearing those memories, too.

The 70s era and my life at that time were both pivotal.  I was leaving home for college, embracing the social movements of the time, and recognizing economic liberties my mother did not know, all changes that encouraged self expression.  Tom Wolfe coined the phrase the “Me” decade to describe the 70s.  Those 70s jeans shout “Me”, and youth and the freedom and fun of my high school and college years.

I’ve kept those 70s jeans for decades, through multiple moves.  Looking at them still makes me smile. I can’t fit them on anymore.  But they still express me, and who I was when I wore them.