Clothing coupons which looked such an imposing array when issued melted to nothing before the onslaught of a coat and skirt, or a winter overcoat. A new kind of gold-digging was evolved by women of all ages, who took up the attitude that their husbands, sons, brothers and men friends would never need any new clothes and so might as well let them have their coupons.

This passage was written by Angela Thirkell in her novel Marling Hall set in the countryside of England which came out 1942 in the midst of World War II. In order to prevent the price of goods from skyrocketing, the British instituted a rationing system whereby people got an assortment of coupons that would allow them to legally buy clothing. Thirkell saw the humor in the scramble to keep well-dressed and within the law. Gold-digger is an insult usually directed at younger women who cultivate older men with money in order to share some of their gold via marriage or other means. Here, Thirkell made every woman into a gold-digger, or at least a coupon- digger.

Clothing for public wearing was more formal, more detailed, and as a result more expensive than what we wear now, so the value of coupons to women was far more than it would be today. True, men's fashions evolved very slowly, but the fabric wore out just the same.

You can find Thirkell's novels at Virago Books: https://www.virago.co.uk/?s=thirkell

"Lady Emily was making a khaki scarf, had been making it for nearly a year, and was likely, as far as anyone could see, to finish a few days after the end of the war, if then.... What she achieved in the way of adding stitches, of losing stitches, of inventing stitches that no one had ever met before, of finding a long ladder where none had been five minutes earlier, of discovering a peculiar knotted lump twenty rows back and insisting on unravelling at that point because nothing was good or good enough for the soldiers and picking up her row with double its number of stitches, only those who have tried to guide a mother's early steps in knitting can understand."

Anyone who tried to guide a child's early steps in knitting would understand this as well. Recently, I got a girl started on a scarf, sent her home and have heard since that the thing was widening in weird ways that she could not understand or control. Similarly, my return to crocheting after decades created monstrosities; I did not seem to know when a row ended and it was time to turn around; I just kept adding stitches. The learning curve for making can feel steep at times.

By the end of this passage in Angela Thirkell's Marling Hall from 1942, we learn that Lady Emily's scarf varies in width from 9 to 19 inches, is 5 feet long, and she thinks she only half done with it. This is one of the funnier passages in this novel which can seem a bit impatient with humankind at points. But it was 1942 and the country was struggling desperately and I can understand how Thirkell's tales of life in the English countryside would be less cheerful than her pre-war works. Although they continued to turn on making sure that people married the right spouse who would make them happy, and not the wrong ones who made parents clutch their hair.

You can find these works at Virago Books: https://www.virago.co.uk/?s=thirkell

...Lucy, in a very old shapeless coat and skirt, a shabby felt hat, dirty string gloves, dragging a large bag of some evil-smelling stuff, was not an object of aesthetic pleasure. Then Mlle Duchaux's hard eye observed her well-groomed hair and well-cut, well-cleaned shoes and her well-fitting stockings and recognised her at once for what she was.

The hard eye belongs to a French woman, a retired governess, who had trained many an upper-class English family’s children, and it fell upon Lucy, the daughter of a well-off family in the English countryside during World War II. Lucy was dragging around a bag of fertilizer as she was a hearty, determined young woman who was keen on doing her bit for the war effort whether that involved looking after a garden or working at a hospital. This is from the book Marling Hall by Angela Thirkell which was published in 1942.

Lucy’s clothing was a mess precisely because she was working hard at something, and because of her general indifference to clothing, yet notice that she still wore a skirt and not pants. Only actively partaking in the dirtiest of farmwork would have made pants appropriate at this point in time. The retired governess recognized the shabby clothing was not on account of Lucy’s inability to afford anything better; Lucy’s shoes and her stockings and her hair indicated that she could afford what she wanted. And the retired governess, who had served the upper-classes, knew exactly the subtleties of dress which set off the well-off from the rest of society.

Angela Thirkell began writing novels set in the English countryside in the 1930s and she was still writing in the 1950s. Virago has republished her books: https://www.virago.co.uk/?s=thirkell

...a torrent of complaint burst from the company, each member of which had a personal grudge against the whole coupon system. Mrs. Marling's Burberry, wearing out from sheer spite, had run into fourteen coupons. Miss Harvey had been forced to give two coupons for a piece of blue ring velvet to make a turban....

These fictional characters, surely based on real people, were complaining about the coupon system used to ration clothing and fabric in Britain during World War II. I liked the scene for two reasons. First, a coat wearing out from spite is a funny idea. Second, this scene is a reality check on the nostalgic vision of the past when everyone supposedly supported all elements of the war effort. I recently had my students read an article on the era which stressed how government and magazines told women that not only must they help with war work, but they must see beauty as duty and look good for the men and for general morale. Although the illegal market in rationed goods was noted, there was little emphasis on how annoying such a rationing system could become.

Of course, the idea behind rationing was two fold: to limit consumption so that most goods went towards the war effort, and to prevent the wealthiest people from buying whatever they wanted and driving up prices. In addition, the British government introduced the Utility Scheme which limited prices and demanded a level of quality; again, this was an attempt to keep everyone able to buy something.

The scene above appeared in Angela Thirkell’s novel from Marling Hall from 1942. Ring velvet comes from the term wedding-ring velvet, or chiffon velvet, the idea being it was so fine that you could pull it through a wedding ring. Women turned to cloth turbans during the war, since fur felt and wool felt was hard to get, and they wanted some kind of hat which they saw as necessary to former public wear.

You can find Thirkell’s novels which run through the 1930s onward at Virago Books: https://www.virago.co.uk/?s=thirkell