I was, once again, wandering aimlessly in cyberspace, when I came upon The Fashion Guide to Seasons 4 & 5 of "The Avengers." Pages and Pages of Emma Peel's costumes. Cat suits, of course, but also mini-dresses, gowns, the leather body-suit and spiked collar that got an episode banned in the stodgy ole USA.
Back when I was a young teen in Connecticut, wrapping tin-foil on the TV antenna to pick up "The Avengers" from a weak-signaled New York station, I thought Mrs. Peel was the coolest woman in the world. Look what she had: great hair, great figure, great great clothes, a great apartment, a great little car, and a well-groomed gentleman friend who would show up every week with a bottle of champagne and a great adventure, but who never made any other demands on her time. But the coolest thing: Mrs. Peel kicked ass. I got a little high-fashion pre-feminist thrill every time she karate-chopped a bad-guy. Now that I've seen Michelle Yeoh and Maggie Cheung defeating the entire Chinese army, Mrs. Peel seems wimpy in comparison, but she was all I had at the time and I loved her campy little act.
I wanted to grow up to be just like Mrs. Peel. Did I? Alas no -- Ms. Bananas is not wanted.