Time traveller: Meet the woman living in the 1950s
Jayne Hall struggled with her self-worth and body image, until a vintage decade made everything a little clearer…
Icarefully apply a stroke of black eyeliner to each eye, a dab of power on my face and then bright red lipstick.
Then I unwrap my hair from large vintage rollers, getting a gentle waft of setting lotion, before I shake out the waves in my shiny dark hair and – voilà!
I’m ready to slip into a pretty floral Fifties-inspired full-skirted dress.
A final look in the mirror – and yes, I’m really pleased with my reflection.
But this isn’t me getting ready for a fancy dress party or a special occasion – this is pretty much my daily routine – and look. I love the Fifties: the clothes, the lifestyle…
It may seem odd to some but stepping back into a world several decades ago has brought me serenity and happiness.
I wasn’t always like this. In fact, despite being married, and a mother juggling the demands of a good job, inwardly I was crippled by shyness.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved being a mum. I just didn’t love being me.
I’d see beautifully dressed women and look on enviously.
‘I wish I had the confidence to wear that,’ I’d think wistfully.
Being a bigger girl, (I’m a curvy size 18), I was insecure, and hated the thought of people staring at me.
As I went about my busy days, I’d try to draw as little attention to myself as possible.
I didn’t realise it at the time, but when I look back now, I can see that I wasn’t truly living – just existing in a haze.
In time, my ex and I parted ways and, for a while, I was a single mum and focused on raising my little boy.
Things changed on the career front too as, realising how much I loved to educate others, I retrained as a swimming teacher.
‘I’ll open my own school one day,’ I proudly told pals.
With everything going on, meeting someone else was the furthest thing from my mind. But all that changed in 2013, when I was 38. I was convinced by friends to set up an online dating profile. I wasn’t holding out much hope – until a message landed in my inbox from a kind-faced man called Allan.
Like me, he also had a son, and we bonded over swapping parenting tales. I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. ‘ You’re the male version of me,’ I laughed.
All I wanted was to find somebody who cherished me, who would put in as much as they took out of a relationship. And that’s exactly what I found in Allan.
Eventually, we moved in together and thankfully, our sons got along famously. We became a little family.
But I still found myself
coming home from work exhausted every night. I had no energy for proper family life and that, combined with my insecurity about my figure and my looks, was starting to really get me down.
It felt like life was a mindless cycle of eat, sleep, work, repeat.
I wanted to be in charge of my own time and so, after talking things through with Allan, I decided to go parttime. I’d still earn some money and would have more time to myself.
Allan isn’t the kind of man who thinks women should do the housework, but him working full-time in a stressful engineering job meant that, naturally, I picked up the slack at home.
There was a sense of real satisfaction, a reward that came from whipping up a delicious meal or making sure the kitchen was spotless.
In time, I not only started acting like a Fifties housewife – I began to look like one, too.
It started in 2019, when I picked up a red lippy at a vintage fair on a whim. ‘ You look great!’ friends gasped when they saw me. I started to wear pretty floral dresses instead of jeans.
I found men I didn’t know became more gentlemanly towards me, holding open doors…
In the supermarket, older women would tap me on the shoulder and whisper ‘ You look nice,’ nodding their approval.
I enjoyed it. For someone as shy as me, I began to realise that not all attention is bad.
I sort of fell in love with the Fifties. It seemed to me to be a kinder, gentler life, one where you stopped to breathe and enjoy the moment… of a homemade upside-down pineapple cake maybe!
I began letting the style into our home in Blythe, Northumberland, too. I only bought vintage furniture. A nice tablecloth or two… I even bought some retro appliances, such as a vacuum cleaner from the Fifties, and an old Teasmade.
In January 2020, I took the ‘If t here’s one thing I’ve learned’ ‘Be true to yourself and your happiness will spread to those around you.’ plunge and left my job. The plan was that I’d quit in order to open my own swimming school. Only, weeks later, Coronavirus hit, and the nation went into lockdown.
With nowhere else to go, I became a full-time housewife – and I’ve never been happier!
In fact, I’ve no plans to go back to work.
I call myself a trad wife – or traditional wife. A growing movement of women who believe in old-fashioned values and are homemakers by choice.
Now, at 45, I start my days by fixing breakfast for my family, before airing the beds, which are fitted with vintage bedding (of course!), doing some laundry and gardening, then making dinner with a recipe from a retro cookbook – usually featuring some fruit and veg I’ve grown myself.
It’s on the table for when Allan gets home from work and we enjoy eating together.
Just to be clear to any doubters out there who think I’m anti-feminist, or living with outdated values, I’m not.
It just happens that I’ve found a way to be me – happy, fulfilled me – in the style of the Fifties.
I feel lucky to have the freedom to choose to be at home and care for my family.
After years of feeling insecure, I like myself, the way I look and my style. I’ve been searching for the real me all my life. Who’d have thought I’d find it in 1950?