Prior to the 1920s it was a rare delicacy for man and boy to catch a glimpse of a feminine limb, for most fellows (married men excluded) it was a spectacle that had not been enjoyed since the days of Adam. The flappers certainly knew this, and they generally believed that suffering the unbridled excitement of the male of the species was a small price to pay in order to secure some element of liberty. The flappers rather liked their hem-lengths just where they were and, thank you very much, they were not about to drop them.
On the right is a poem by an anonymous flapper who expressed her reaction to all that juvenile attention her knees were generating.
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