When torture came with a plastic rain mac …… memories of the 1950s

My Pakamac was ideal for summer showers. 

 "Lewis’s say … Take a cape, circa 1950s

But they were a cruel invention. Despite being light and flexible enough to be squeezed into a small bag they smelt awful and were a nightmare to wear.

It didn’t take long before the warmth of the body trapped in a sheet of clinging plastic made you sweat and the more you walked the hotter and more uncomfortable you became. Which meant you had a choice, wear it and suffer or take it off, get wet and suffer later when my grandmother discovered that this act of rebellion had got me soaked.

"Light and in four colours"

They were a product of the Plastic Age when heaps of things made of traditional materials were junked in favour of light bright products, from cups, plates, cutlery to the Pakamac.

I had all but forgotten this cheap protection from the rain, but in the collection of the Chorlton artist, Derrick Lea I came across this advert.

I have no idea why he included it in his pictures and paintings but perhaps like me he wasn’t a fan.

Nor I think I am alone.  Anyone born in the middle decades of the last century, who remembers watching Ivanhoe on a tiny black and white TV, and who was allowed to roam free at weekends and holidays with no demand to check in will at some point have endured a variation of the Pakamac.

True they were less cumbersome than those belted gaberdine raincoats, but they were no less a chore to carry and got in the way of climbing trees.

Unless of course you had bought one of those surplus army canvas bags which could store all manner of treasures, from a bottle of lemonade to a half-eaten bread roll.

Mine was army green had once been an ammunition bag and cost just one shilling. They were the “must to have” item in 1958 and at a push would take the mac, if you hadn’t already discarded it in full knowledge that mother would not be best pleased.

And that is it.

Location; wet days in the 1950s

Picture; "Lewis’s say … Take a cape, circa 1950s, courtesy of John and Hazel Lea"