My Domestic Science (it was cooking and cleaning, wasn't it?) teacher had short, tightly permed red hair, a slash of red lip, as fash mag hags like to say, and wore a white high-necked, long-sleeved dress with a tight bodice and full, pleated mid-calf skirt, cinched at the waist with a red belt.
I don't remember the shoes. I was too transfixed to look down. Undoubtedly she'd have worn stockings and suspenders.
None of the other teachers looked like her or commanded the same respect.
She was terrifying on the face of it but very kind. Like something from Malory Towers. They don't make them like that any more.
I chafed about being shunted into the girl class in my mixed-sex school. But in the long run, learning how to shop and cook was a more valuable skill than the boys got, which was metal and wood work.
We were a selective school with a strong technology element. I don't know whether they exist any more. I think they should.