Ode To Dottie Ps (Poetry)

On the closing of the local branch of Dorothy Perkins

This is the place we used to come
most Saturdays when we were young
to gaze at gear we thought was Fab
and try on frocks to wow the lads
down at the youth club disco nights
all mini skirts and fishnet tights.

A paradise for teenage girls
we wandered up and down the rails
dreaming catwalk times ahead
we strutted, flirted, knocked ’em dead
with high street fashion from the mags
those groovy psychedelic rags.

It was the cool in-place to shop
we bought the cream from each new crop
the midis, maxis, inbetweens
and every shade of pre-washed jeans
we went with fashion’s changing tide
with Dottie Ps our constant guide.

But time moves on — they’ve just shut down
your branch in this pretentious town.
A little part of history
lost, too. Goodbye, dear Dorothy
although your going makes us sad
it doesn’t change what fun we had.