I grew up in a small mid-western town, in the far north snowbelt. My mother, like most of the women in the town, wore jeans, flannel shirts, sweat pants, and athletic shoes most of the time. The only exception was for Church, then I might see a few women in dresses and heels. There were no real “fashion plates” in the town. Except then came Marge. She was a rather plain looking brunette, about 5′ 6″ tall, but she had a fantastic figure.
Marge had grown up in Chicago and moved, as an adult, to our small