Page 49 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 33

Mae

Mae was my first out-of-the-neighborhood friend. We met
when we were five at day camp. She had Shirley Temple
curls and dimples. We liked the other campers, but we had
so much fun together that we hung around mostly with
each other all summer. We lived on the border of different
elementary schools, so after camp was over, we didn’t meet
up again until ten years later in high school.
Mae was one of my high school idols. She rebelled against
the stupid dress code by wearing the same thing every single
day for a year: jeans skirt (actual jeans, or any kind of pants,
were not allowed—ingenious!), white blouse, white socks,
and white sneakers.
My mother didn’t trust Mae. When we were 15, my
mother yelled at her because we wanted to go to the local
hangout after 9 p.m. She considered 9 p.m. the witching
hour; you don’t go out after 9 p.m!
There was a group of us: Janice, Wynnie, Mae, and me.
We used to go to People’s Drug Store after school to eat fries
with salt and ketchup and drink Cokes. The three of them
smoked Newports, but I secretly disapproved. At the time,
I had very few opinions of my own, and no idea of how
to express myself. I admired these girls, each for individual
reasons. Janice was a math wiz. Wynnie wore makeup. So
mature, I thought! I had no idea why they let me hang
around with them. They were the cool girls. In the 1960s,
they mimicked hippies—in style at least—beginning with