Pat Taub
I’m grateful to the early 19th century feminists who took the bold step to sew pockets in their clothing.
While pockets were standard in men’s fashion, women had to fight for the right to have pockets in their attire. Pockets were seen as the exclusive providence of men where the objection to pockets in women’s clothing was viewed as an affront to chivalry, when the custom was for men to carry things for his date or spouse.
An 18th century suit with pockets, when they were restricted to men’s clothing
Remember when Sir Walter Raleigh famously spread his cloak across a puddle so that Queen Elizabeth could walk across it without getting her feet wet?
While many women longed for pockets, it wasn’t until the early 1900’s when the Suffragettes made a successful stand for women’s pockets, sewing multiple pockets in their coats for carrying forbidden pamphlets advocating a woman’s right to vote. Women’s pockets became a symbol of a woman’s freedom.
In keeping with the Suffragettes, pockets in my clothes have represented both the forbidden and the essential. As a young girl, I stashed a lucky charm in a dress or coat pocket, or, when I could get away with it, Hersey Kisses whisked from my aunt’s candy dish.
As a teenager, my pockets might hold a forbidden item, like a cigarette. In my pre-internet college years, a pocket carried change for an emergency phone call, like dialing a friend to rescue me from a boring date.
As a young mother, my pockets held raisins, band aides, Kleenex, or change for popsicles.
I have never liked being weighted down with a purse. When I leave my home for a dinner date, rather than take a bag, I thrust a credit card, phone and house key into a jacket pocket. I feel incredibly free this way. I don’t like being obstructed by a purse when I walk briskly or frustrated when I have to search for a purse hook under a restaurant’s bar. I’ve been pickpocketed twice in restaurants, making me especially adverse to carrying a purse when dining out.
When I speak at an informal gathering, I wear a dress with pockets from which I can gracefully remove a paper containing my remarks.
When shopping for a dress or skirt, I almost always ask, “Does it have a pocket?” I want the assurance of a place to stow a lipstick or a place to hide my hands if I’m at a cocktail party and feeling awkward. Clothing sans pockets rarely makes its way into my closet.
Pockets boost my self-confidence. I have a favorite little black dress with pockets which makes me smile every time I wear it. Pockets are my secret weapon.
Women in little black dresses enjoying their pockets
