top of page

Pyjama Party, 1965


Getty Images

 

In Cambridge, at the St Trinian’s boarding school for girls, the students had decided to hold a secret end-of-term party. Tonight, they were throwing a dance in their dorm. Fifteen of them slept in the room, including Jane, Grace, Mary and Liz. It had been Liz’s idea to bring in a band of four boys to play Beatles’ songs in their dorm. Boys were totally forbidden from entering these halls, and the thrill of rule-breaking titillated the girls as they got ready. Jane took off her muslin nightdress and put on make-up. Her lipstick was almost empty, as she had worn it down writing messages on mirrors or notes on her friends’ arms while they slept, and at secret make-up parties. Grace pulled on a long cotton nightdress embroidered with her initials. It was an essential item in the wardrobe of any young lady from a good family, yet she did not feel very attractive. She brushed her long blond hair and wondered how she could spice up her sensible look. Mary was lucky; her nightdress looked like a babydoll gown – sexy, light and short. Liz had had a special outfit delivered for the occasion. It was made with fine lace, and the belt was studded with pearls. Tonight they would be the prettiest girls at the dance, all hoping to impress the four boys who would be soon be stepping over their threshold.

 

The group came in and began setting up their instruments. Mary tied her hair up into a bun. Grace prepared the pillows for what was set to be a mighty battle. “I can’t believe it! All these girls walking around in their underpants,” gasped one of the boys as he fingered the strings of his guitar. “You look like Paul McCartney,” exclaimed Mary, jumping on a bed. “And you look like Ringo!” The musicians were finally ready to play a Beatles song:

 

Da da da, da da dumb dumb da

Da da da, da da dumb dumb da

If there's anything that you want

If there's anything I can do

Just call on me and I'll send it along

With love, from me to you

 

Three hours had gone by, the girls jumping on their mattresses and hitting each other with pillows as they sang at the top of their lungs. They were beginning to feel tired, but nobody wanted to stop the party until the morning came. The musicians kept on playing, galvanized by the girls’ energy. They played John Lennon songs on repeat. Then a younger girl came into the dorm with a case of cider. The girls flocked around her. Should we drink it? What if we shake them up and spray each other? “Out of the question! We’re not wasting it – we’re drinking it!” ordered Jane. They popped off the caps and took long swigs from the bottles, passing them around and feeling the warmth seep through their bodies. Mary gave a few swigs to the boy who looked like George Harrison. He was cute. She wished she could pull him aside for some sweet talk. But she couldn’t – everyone would make fun of her. “You’ll start a fight. No courting tonight!” warned Liz, who had understood her ploy. The band started playing Please Please Me:

 

Last night I said these words to my girl

I know you never even try, girl

 

Grace was exhausted; she could dance, bounce and drink no more. She collapsed on her bed and fell asleep. “Grace is out, as usual!” cried Mary. They laughed, and finally the music came to a stop. It was time to go, as the first light of day was breaking. Mary smiled at her George. Liz clapped for her John. The party was over, for this year at least.

 

Alan Alfredo Geday

bottom of page