I remember when my grandmother would magically acquire the latest McCall's and Simplicity sewing pattern catalogs. Maybe they were last season's books, and were given to her by the ladies at Empire Silk, where she purchased her fabrics, patterns, and other sewing supplies. I would spend hours poring over the pages, admiring the pictures that showed all the current or almost current (!) fashions. Sometimes I'd cut out the pictures of my favorite illustrated models wearing lovely gowns, continually adding to my large collection of well-dressed paper dolls. Even now it excites me to recall the crunching snip-snip of my scissors on the glossy paper, one of the best sounds and feels of childhood.
When not perusing and snipping the catalogs, I would burrow into closets, finding glorious gowns that my Aunt Nina wore when she still lived with my grandparents, and enjoyed the life of a single lady, going to night clubs and generally being a bon vivant. She was also a dancer, most likely of little or no renown, but she had some swell costumes. And all these clothes were at my fingertips--to fondle, admire, and to wear as I ambled through my grandparents' home, or played in their large back and side yards.
No activity was too mundane for me not to require a fashionable costume. Family barbecues in the patio might call for a mink stole, bejeweled high heels and custom-made hat. Watching Howdy Doody on TV was much more entertaining while wearing a copper-colored crepe de chine evening gown embroidered with a swirl of silver, gold, and bronze sequins. Even a foray out to the way-backyard to play Annie Oakley to my brother and cousins' cowboys and Indians saw me wrapped in a hand-crocheted black and silver-threaded shawl. With a rifle. If I felt the need to entertain the family with a little song and dance, there was always something appropriate (or not!) to complete my performance ensemble. I had unlimited access to my grandmother's collections of shoes, hats, and colorful costume jewelry. It was truly a child's paradise.
So, from early on, I loved to play dress-up. I loved pretty clothes. I loved to see my mother get gussied up for a party in chiffon
gowns
that my grandmother
had bought for her.
I was, long before
the term was
coined, a
fashionista.
To this day, when I get up in the morning, my waking thoughts center on "What will I wear today?" I find this to be a very rousing and satisfying way to start my day. (Though I must confess, now that I'm retired, my still-sleepy sartorial musings are more likely to be, "Hey, where are my sweat pants?" ) I've been known to build an entire outfit starting from a mis-matched pair of socks. I love to combine patterns, textures, and colors, always based on some clever theme or another. Since I rarely throw away any jewelry--and, to my husband Jim's lament--keep buying more, I have a fairly massive assortment of (very reasonably priced--I am cheap!) jewelry accessories that allows me to just about always have the perfect necklace, bracelet, pin, or earrings to go with anything I wear. Long ago, I developed my own sense of style, which I find to be amazingly pleasurable to me--and that is who I dress for.
If other people appreciate my wardrobe, that's an added plus. I always knew when a certain story was being studied in the fourth grade at the school where I taught, because numerous ten year-olds would comment in the hallways or on the playground as I strolled by, "Mrs. Souza, you are looking especially
flamboyant today." Not everyone gets to be a vocabulary lesson! That always brought me much joy.
When my daughter Melanie was born, I could not wait to dress her up like a little doll baby. This worked til she was about five, when she decided that blue jeans and tee shirts were more her style. Needless to say, this was among the first of crushing blows that can accompany parenthood. She even feigned illness to avoid attending her brother's eighth grade graduation because I insisted that she wear a dress to the ceremony. Fast forward to her adulthood and I would not be alone in attesting to Melanie's beauty and knock-out figure. She, too, has her own great fashion sense. It is just different than mine She can rock a baseball cap with her mane of curly long black hair tumbling from it. I look much better in one of the little black net numbers that I inherited from my grandma. Mel is ready for a beer; I'm holding out for a cocktail.
And now a new generation of fashionistas has appeared on the scene. I could not have been more thrilled when one afternoon, as I carried fifteen-month old Jaiden Raine past a jewelry rack that belonged her Great Grama Sally, she reached out with her little dimpled hand, and grabbed one of Sally's long beaded necklaces. Bringing it to her chest, and setting it against the fabric of her toddler's dress, she looked down, smiled gleefully and exclaimed, "Matches!" That's my girl--never too young to see what goes with what, and to take such joy in it. Now twelve, Jaiden has continued to revel in fun clothing, making interesting combinations that make her granny proud.
And of course, Lilly Mae is not about to be outdone. Like all four of my grandkids, she has spent countless hours in the dress-up room, rummaging through Halloween costumes, dance outfits, thrift-shop finds and assorted cast-offs. Granny's hats and shoes have an amazing ability to find their way onto the kids' heads and feet. And that Mother Lode of fabulous jewelry! The thrill of it all! Lilly, whether dressing up, or in daily attire, prefers funky fabrics, sparkles, and ruffles. But NO bows! So, following in the family tradition, she is working on her own style requirements.
One day, not too long ago, I was going to take Lilly and her big brother Jakob to the movies to see "Paddington." She came out of the bedroom dressed and ready to go.
Even though we would be sitting in the dark of the theater, her choice did nothing for my finely honed sensibilities. What was going on here? Jungle print, plaid, and pink? Ok, I understood the sock choice. But what was the underlying theme that tied it all together, creating an ensemble? I did not want to say anything that would crush her spirit. I was facing a real dilemma.
And then, suddenly, it was crystal clear. The way
I dress is a statement of who
I am at a given moment. I like to think that, after all these years of working on it, I generally look pretty good in the style department, but who knows? My mind turned back to those years at my grandmother's house, exploring, dressing up, shopping with her, learning to express myself in myriad ways, basking always in her unconditional love. We were going to a kids' movie in Placerville. Not a New York premiere. Not to school, to church, or to a wedding--and Lilly thought she looked perfectly perfect. Off we went.
I've prided myself as a person, a parent, and a teacher, in guiding but allowing free expression. It is one of the characteristics that makes us all unique and special. Our sense of fashion is but one way we express ourselves. If permission to express oneself freely is something that I highly value--and I do-- then I had to
talk the talk, and walk the walk--
in this case the catwalk.
And we had a marvelous time at the movies!
**********************************************************
This piece is dedicated to my wonderful grandmother, Varina Davis Yeakley Spencer. But we just knew her as "Mudd." Here she is, looking splendidly fashionable in 1925, holding my father, Emmet Francisco Spencer, Jr. Mudd got her moniker from my dad, who shortened his version of Mother ("Mudder") to Mudd when he was about two. Some kids abbreviate to "mom," "mommy," or "ma." We got Mudd!
.jpg)
