Your peace, a piece of clothing that you remember and brings back memories reminds us that we have memories that belong to each piece of clothing that we keep even though it is no longer wearable or does that fit anymore.
I have a dress I wore when I returned to Morroco to Rick’s Café and played the part of the woman who made the most famous quote there.
This is significant in my life still, and I will never get rid of the dress.
Love the conviction in that, Jill! And I trust that you've got that same story written down, or that you're sharing it verbally, for those who will someday remember your connection to that dress. 👗 Thank you for sharing about it here!
Beautiful. Such lives we lead. You’ve done well. Clothing (and hair styles) really defines a time. Some lovely memories here. My sister’s wedding dress was surprisingly similar to yours. Grin. Thanks for another excellent read. All the best.
I loved this, Elizabeth. It wasn't really about the dresses at all, it was about the women who wore them, and the lives they quietly carried inside the fabric. Beautifully written. X
You're right, Claire. The dresses were just a conduit for the real story, a truth that applies to so many of our memories. Grateful for your presence here.
Do report back! I mean, it's not an assignment or anything (ha!), but if something finds its way to the surface from the wardrobe, I'd be interested to learn more. Meanwhile, thank you for reading and making time to comment. Much appreciated!
All the dresses here are fabulous, each in their own way. I'm feeling a little envious that I never had an equivalent of your white leather dress. I am so glad for you that you listened to your friend and let yourself have that dress and the experience that came with it.
Thanks, Rita. I sometimes think of that summer as the one I finally figured out who I needed to be. Of course, I went sideways time and again in the ensuing years, but it was still a turning point. Lucky me! That friend, as the miracle of living would have it, is now my sister in law.
You do know that it's not too late for whatever version of that white dress you need right now, yes? 😁
I think I'm glad to be past the white dress stage? But I do remember having a similar one (and it was white, too, though not leather which is just next-level) in my twenties. I love that your friend is now your sister in law.
I can't wait to hear about it, Teresa! 😂 I'm glad you enjoy the vintage pictures. I'm not sure I'd have any memories at all if it weren't for having had access to the stories connected to them.
I love this! About 15 years ago, I had a short, black, faux-leather jacket with a peplum flare at the waist. I wore it with a short black-and-white skirt that had three silver chains attached at each hipbone. I added black tights and ankle booties, and I felt like a bad-ass! My son called it my rocker chick outfit. (I was 50+ at the time). I still have the skirt, but the jacket crossed the bridge to jacket heaven.
Woah, Linda. Badass for sure. That sounds like a spectacular outfit. I hope you have pictures of you in it! And maybe-just-maybe a renewed version is in your future? I feel like we could start a trend.
I have this halter top.....worn once...as always your work is relatable and tugs the heartstrings while we readers appreciate our own dynamic paths. Thanks Elizabeth!
I love this, Elizabeth. Took me right back to the only high school reunion I attended; my tenth, as well. I arrived, reticent. I wore my favorite outfit (I've written about it before); the hot pink linen cropped jacket, complete with shoulder pads in 1989, and the white polka-dot on black high-waisted pants, with a black turtleneck sleeveless unitard. No one recognized me. I'd lost a significant amount of weight since last spotted at graduation. 70 pounds, and I had a more refined sense of style (blue suede jazz shoes to go with). I was in the anorexic era of my eating disorder. When I introduced myself, everyone was floored and gave me that icky feeling...the "now you're acceptable, so we can treat you nicely" bullshit. I decided that night never to attend a reunion again, and I have kept my word.
I've been looking at the possibility of wearing a Jewish star, and went online looking for one. But I've decided that the one my grandmother gave me when I was 7 is the one I'll wear. I've been holding onto it for decades, and I'm glad I never gave it away. But the old clothes? Getting rid of things at breakneck speed. I'm too small now for a lot of the clothing I've tried to hide my too-big body for years. I've always held onto smaller sizes/larger sizes, because I've gone up and down so much. No more. I feel confident that I will maintain my weight loss and live in the present. And if I gain or lose more, I'll make adjustments to my wardrobe as life takes place.
Thank you, Nan. ☺️ Love, love, love the description of the 'fit, Nan. And shoulder pads? Some of mine made me look like David Byrne.
Eating disorder notwithstanding, I imagine you looking like a million bucks in your reunion ensemble. I'm sorry the evening came tinged with crap, but I'm not at all surprised you stuck to your convictions afterward.
I've never been to another reunion either. There are a few folks I wouldn't mind connecting with again, if I had the chance, but available time and distance always tip the vote away from making it happen.
There is surely a world of meaning tucked into that star, and I'm counting on a story if you start wearing it again.
Old clothes can be such an albatross. Move 'em out! Then have a blast thrifting for whatever comes next.
I'm hoping that story will get told, but the one I just told you might be it! We'll see. Susan Kacvinsky and I were chatting today and I told her about your piece, and the reunion stuff...she's headed to her 50th shortly, and she suggested that I might consider going to mine when it swings around in a few years (HOW DID almost 50 years happen????). I agreed that it would probably be a very different experience. I mean, it took me until I was 60 to really grow up...and I still am. I imagine I'm not the only one who's realized a lot about themself. We do get smarter (hopefully) and we mellow with that wisdom and the experience of living a long life. xo
My clothes stopped keeping score a long time ago . I have felt nothing but relief after getting rid of things , so , I’ll take Door #3 : Regret at not asking someone a question that I’ve wondered about for decades !
I have two sisters and a brother : three of us have my father’s looks ; my one sister does not look like either parent - she has beautiful almond - shaped eyes , high cheekbones , and flawless skin . I was always too shy to ask my Mom if my sister’s exotic good looks were from someone on her side of the family , or was there a secret dalliance that Mom had , ( as if she would’ve spilled the tea on that one) !
My Mom and sister have passed some ago , so I’ll never get to ask my nosey question , perhaps for the best . 🩷
That is quite the unasked/unanswered question, Melody. Do you and your remaining siblings talk about it? We've all heard the stories of late-life half sibling discoveries, courtesy of 23 and Me. But yes, there's definitely a case to be made for some things remaining a secret. Hugs for the losses, though.
Really appreciate you taking time to share that here. Thank you.
My remaining siblings and I are estranged ( no biggie - you don’t always get along with family ) , although I am still in contact with my late sister’s son , we’ve never discussed it . As you said , some things are best left unsaid/ unasked .
But , since you had so kindly offered up the opportunity to ponder imponderables , here I am ! ❤️
In our recent move, we had to make lots of decisions about what to bring with us into our new life vs. what to let go of because there's no good reason to keep it other than we don't know what else to do with it. And so, I had to decide whether to keep an item of clothing I was given in 1979--a "staff" t-shirt from the No Nukes Rally in Battery Park. It's a size I will never wear again. My kids aren't all that impressed that I was a radical for opposing nuclear energy. And if I ever have grandchildren, they'll probably think it's a quaint relic from another era, like a crocheted doily or something. But, did it make the move? Of course it did. I couldn't part with something that defines me more than any other item of clothing ever has.
And now, as I did for Jill in another comment, I'll encourage you to write that story down so that it carries on as long as possible. Whether your grands realize it or not, it's still mighty relevant today.
Thanks for sharing this terrific bit of nostalgia here, Lynn. Just wonderful.
What a wonderful set of interwoven stories, Elizabeth. Thank you for sharing them. AND the photographs! Those sleeves! and that hair!!! Mine was too fine to ever attempt such feats. 😂
Thank you, Elizabeth. If I were better with a sewing machine--and by that I mean if I could use one *at all*--I might try remaking my mom's gem into something else. Maybe I'll find someone who can do that for me. My girls and I have joked that they each get a sleeve from my wedding dress to wear.
Believe it or not, that hair did all that more or less on its own. So much, and so curly, the challenge was in getting it to not look voluminous all the time. Hah!
I loved reading this. I thought of the dress I wore when I married my first husband. Maybe this dress came to mind because a post about that marriage that happened 60 years ago will go live today. The dress was not a favorite from long ago, but it still hangs in closet in the basement. I’m not sure why I’ve hung on to it.
I had a size 6, hot pink mini-dress made of a velvet like material from the early 70’s that hugged my curves in all the right places. I had given birth twice when I wore it, but I could still garner some looks. It became the favorite dress-up outfit for my daughters, even when they were into their teens, they liked to pull it out and try it on just to see if it fit. Finally, one of them asked for it and took it home. It made an appearance recently at a fund raiser where attendees were to wear something from the 70’s. I heard it was a hit.
Sally, that pink, velvet mini-dress sounds absolutely spectacular! I'm so glad it got more action after you were no longer wearing it. I, too, still have my wedding gown, and my mom's. I might need an intervention.
Thanks for mentioning your post. I'm sure you looked stunning in your wedding outfit!
I finished reading your essay and got a notification from the library that they were holding an ebook for me: Nobody Wants Your Sh*t (actual title), by (get this) Messie Condo. (Warning: no asterisks appear in the text.)
So I downloaded it and read it in an afternoon.
Now I have a box of candles and sticks from the 70s that I’ve kept tucked away for decades. And haven’t used at all since we acquired cats.
And a Silver Palate Cookbook that defined my 30s and 40s and haven’t opened since.
And shelves of sheet music for instruments I no longer play.
As Patsy sang “I’ve got your memory, or has it got me?”
And as of next Thursday, Green Drop will have “these little things.”
You go, Mermaid! Though I'm culling things little by little, I had to smile at your specific examples. Yep, I've got silver candlesticks tucked away that haven't seen the light of day in some time, and a Silver Palate Cookbook gathering dust on a shelf. ::cringe:: And as synchronicity would have it, Patsy Cline was one of my mom's favorites.
If I get my way, we're having a yard sale over Labor Day weekend. Alternatively, I'll find a place that will be happy to have the donation. It's time. Thanks for the solidarity!
Both photos are great, but I especially love the one of you and your mother. What a wonderful thing to have. As for the dress... the leather one... I'm also glad there was a photo because I knew I was lost at portrait neckline. White leather, eh?
Thanks, Amy. At this point in my life, I'd probably spill something on the white leather before I ever even made it to the event. Black is much more forgiving!
I honestly feel grateful for every vintage photo I have. And I remember poring over the really old ones, from when my parents were children, long before I had a family of my own. Photographs anchor me to memories that would otherwise drift away.
Your peace, a piece of clothing that you remember and brings back memories reminds us that we have memories that belong to each piece of clothing that we keep even though it is no longer wearable or does that fit anymore.
I have a dress I wore when I returned to Morroco to Rick’s Café and played the part of the woman who made the most famous quote there.
This is significant in my life still, and I will never get rid of the dress.
Love the conviction in that, Jill! And I trust that you've got that same story written down, or that you're sharing it verbally, for those who will someday remember your connection to that dress. 👗 Thank you for sharing about it here!
Beautiful. Such lives we lead. You’ve done well. Clothing (and hair styles) really defines a time. Some lovely memories here. My sister’s wedding dress was surprisingly similar to yours. Grin. Thanks for another excellent read. All the best.
Ah, thank you, Beth. I'm curious: what year was your sister married?
I hope you're having a beautiful week.
1975 from memory. I think I have a photo in my garage. Will have a peek later. Hugs. 🤗🤗
I loved this, Elizabeth. It wasn't really about the dresses at all, it was about the women who wore them, and the lives they quietly carried inside the fabric. Beautifully written. X
You're right, Claire. The dresses were just a conduit for the real story, a truth that applies to so many of our memories. Grateful for your presence here.
Great essay Elizabeth! Makes me think about what is still in my wardrobe...will be mulling over your questions today!
Do report back! I mean, it's not an assignment or anything (ha!), but if something finds its way to the surface from the wardrobe, I'd be interested to learn more. Meanwhile, thank you for reading and making time to comment. Much appreciated!
All the dresses here are fabulous, each in their own way. I'm feeling a little envious that I never had an equivalent of your white leather dress. I am so glad for you that you listened to your friend and let yourself have that dress and the experience that came with it.
Thanks, Rita. I sometimes think of that summer as the one I finally figured out who I needed to be. Of course, I went sideways time and again in the ensuing years, but it was still a turning point. Lucky me! That friend, as the miracle of living would have it, is now my sister in law.
You do know that it's not too late for whatever version of that white dress you need right now, yes? 😁
I think I'm glad to be past the white dress stage? But I do remember having a similar one (and it was white, too, though not leather which is just next-level) in my twenties. I love that your friend is now your sister in law.
These older photos of yours always make me smile. What memories we have now! Remind me to tell you about my “big hair” experiences.
I can't wait to hear about it, Teresa! 😂 I'm glad you enjoy the vintage pictures. I'm not sure I'd have any memories at all if it weren't for having had access to the stories connected to them.
I love this! About 15 years ago, I had a short, black, faux-leather jacket with a peplum flare at the waist. I wore it with a short black-and-white skirt that had three silver chains attached at each hipbone. I added black tights and ankle booties, and I felt like a bad-ass! My son called it my rocker chick outfit. (I was 50+ at the time). I still have the skirt, but the jacket crossed the bridge to jacket heaven.
Woah, Linda. Badass for sure. That sounds like a spectacular outfit. I hope you have pictures of you in it! And maybe-just-maybe a renewed version is in your future? I feel like we could start a trend.
Thanks for chiming in. Great to see you!
I have this halter top.....worn once...as always your work is relatable and tugs the heartstrings while we readers appreciate our own dynamic paths. Thanks Elizabeth!
Ooh...sounds like there's a whole story in that top. Can't wait to hear more. 😊
Thank you for being such a steady, appreciative reader, Janice. It's a pleasure to share the path with you.
I love this, Elizabeth. Took me right back to the only high school reunion I attended; my tenth, as well. I arrived, reticent. I wore my favorite outfit (I've written about it before); the hot pink linen cropped jacket, complete with shoulder pads in 1989, and the white polka-dot on black high-waisted pants, with a black turtleneck sleeveless unitard. No one recognized me. I'd lost a significant amount of weight since last spotted at graduation. 70 pounds, and I had a more refined sense of style (blue suede jazz shoes to go with). I was in the anorexic era of my eating disorder. When I introduced myself, everyone was floored and gave me that icky feeling...the "now you're acceptable, so we can treat you nicely" bullshit. I decided that night never to attend a reunion again, and I have kept my word.
I've been looking at the possibility of wearing a Jewish star, and went online looking for one. But I've decided that the one my grandmother gave me when I was 7 is the one I'll wear. I've been holding onto it for decades, and I'm glad I never gave it away. But the old clothes? Getting rid of things at breakneck speed. I'm too small now for a lot of the clothing I've tried to hide my too-big body for years. I've always held onto smaller sizes/larger sizes, because I've gone up and down so much. No more. I feel confident that I will maintain my weight loss and live in the present. And if I gain or lose more, I'll make adjustments to my wardrobe as life takes place.
Your dress was fabulous. xo
Thank you, Nan. ☺️ Love, love, love the description of the 'fit, Nan. And shoulder pads? Some of mine made me look like David Byrne.
Eating disorder notwithstanding, I imagine you looking like a million bucks in your reunion ensemble. I'm sorry the evening came tinged with crap, but I'm not at all surprised you stuck to your convictions afterward.
I've never been to another reunion either. There are a few folks I wouldn't mind connecting with again, if I had the chance, but available time and distance always tip the vote away from making it happen.
There is surely a world of meaning tucked into that star, and I'm counting on a story if you start wearing it again.
Old clothes can be such an albatross. Move 'em out! Then have a blast thrifting for whatever comes next.
I'm hoping that story will get told, but the one I just told you might be it! We'll see. Susan Kacvinsky and I were chatting today and I told her about your piece, and the reunion stuff...she's headed to her 50th shortly, and she suggested that I might consider going to mine when it swings around in a few years (HOW DID almost 50 years happen????). I agreed that it would probably be a very different experience. I mean, it took me until I was 60 to really grow up...and I still am. I imagine I'm not the only one who's realized a lot about themself. We do get smarter (hopefully) and we mellow with that wisdom and the experience of living a long life. xo
I've had similar notions. Might be a real kick to discover who did...and who didn't. 😅
My clothes stopped keeping score a long time ago . I have felt nothing but relief after getting rid of things , so , I’ll take Door #3 : Regret at not asking someone a question that I’ve wondered about for decades !
I have two sisters and a brother : three of us have my father’s looks ; my one sister does not look like either parent - she has beautiful almond - shaped eyes , high cheekbones , and flawless skin . I was always too shy to ask my Mom if my sister’s exotic good looks were from someone on her side of the family , or was there a secret dalliance that Mom had , ( as if she would’ve spilled the tea on that one) !
My Mom and sister have passed some ago , so I’ll never get to ask my nosey question , perhaps for the best . 🩷
Nothing but relief -- that's the spirit!
That is quite the unasked/unanswered question, Melody. Do you and your remaining siblings talk about it? We've all heard the stories of late-life half sibling discoveries, courtesy of 23 and Me. But yes, there's definitely a case to be made for some things remaining a secret. Hugs for the losses, though.
Really appreciate you taking time to share that here. Thank you.
My remaining siblings and I are estranged ( no biggie - you don’t always get along with family ) , although I am still in contact with my late sister’s son , we’ve never discussed it . As you said , some things are best left unsaid/ unasked .
But , since you had so kindly offered up the opportunity to ponder imponderables , here I am ! ❤️
I'm glad you're here, Melody.
Right back atcha !
In our recent move, we had to make lots of decisions about what to bring with us into our new life vs. what to let go of because there's no good reason to keep it other than we don't know what else to do with it. And so, I had to decide whether to keep an item of clothing I was given in 1979--a "staff" t-shirt from the No Nukes Rally in Battery Park. It's a size I will never wear again. My kids aren't all that impressed that I was a radical for opposing nuclear energy. And if I ever have grandchildren, they'll probably think it's a quaint relic from another era, like a crocheted doily or something. But, did it make the move? Of course it did. I couldn't part with something that defines me more than any other item of clothing ever has.
Hooray!! Sounds like a great t-shirt.
And now, as I did for Jill in another comment, I'll encourage you to write that story down so that it carries on as long as possible. Whether your grands realize it or not, it's still mighty relevant today.
Thanks for sharing this terrific bit of nostalgia here, Lynn. Just wonderful.
I’ve sliced up favorite Tshirts and made quilts. Could even serve as a shroud when the time comes. Maybe I can take it with me. Hmm.
Indeed! And what better way to see yourself out?! :)
What a wonderful set of interwoven stories, Elizabeth. Thank you for sharing them. AND the photographs! Those sleeves! and that hair!!! Mine was too fine to ever attempt such feats. 😂
Thank you, Elizabeth. If I were better with a sewing machine--and by that I mean if I could use one *at all*--I might try remaking my mom's gem into something else. Maybe I'll find someone who can do that for me. My girls and I have joked that they each get a sleeve from my wedding dress to wear.
Believe it or not, that hair did all that more or less on its own. So much, and so curly, the challenge was in getting it to not look voluminous all the time. Hah!
I loved reading this. I thought of the dress I wore when I married my first husband. Maybe this dress came to mind because a post about that marriage that happened 60 years ago will go live today. The dress was not a favorite from long ago, but it still hangs in closet in the basement. I’m not sure why I’ve hung on to it.
I had a size 6, hot pink mini-dress made of a velvet like material from the early 70’s that hugged my curves in all the right places. I had given birth twice when I wore it, but I could still garner some looks. It became the favorite dress-up outfit for my daughters, even when they were into their teens, they liked to pull it out and try it on just to see if it fit. Finally, one of them asked for it and took it home. It made an appearance recently at a fund raiser where attendees were to wear something from the 70’s. I heard it was a hit.
Sally, that pink, velvet mini-dress sounds absolutely spectacular! I'm so glad it got more action after you were no longer wearing it. I, too, still have my wedding gown, and my mom's. I might need an intervention.
Thanks for mentioning your post. I'm sure you looked stunning in your wedding outfit!
I always knew that beneath your salt of the earth veneer, there was a white leather clad minx. Glad you've come clean.
Sandy Olsen's got nothing on me! 😅 I always knew you were a good judge of character. Thanks, Eileen.
Another moment of synchronicity!
I finished reading your essay and got a notification from the library that they were holding an ebook for me: Nobody Wants Your Sh*t (actual title), by (get this) Messie Condo. (Warning: no asterisks appear in the text.)
So I downloaded it and read it in an afternoon.
Now I have a box of candles and sticks from the 70s that I’ve kept tucked away for decades. And haven’t used at all since we acquired cats.
And a Silver Palate Cookbook that defined my 30s and 40s and haven’t opened since.
And shelves of sheet music for instruments I no longer play.
As Patsy sang “I’ve got your memory, or has it got me?”
And as of next Thursday, Green Drop will have “these little things.”
You go, Mermaid! Though I'm culling things little by little, I had to smile at your specific examples. Yep, I've got silver candlesticks tucked away that haven't seen the light of day in some time, and a Silver Palate Cookbook gathering dust on a shelf. ::cringe:: And as synchronicity would have it, Patsy Cline was one of my mom's favorites.
If I get my way, we're having a yard sale over Labor Day weekend. Alternatively, I'll find a place that will be happy to have the donation. It's time. Thanks for the solidarity!
Both photos are great, but I especially love the one of you and your mother. What a wonderful thing to have. As for the dress... the leather one... I'm also glad there was a photo because I knew I was lost at portrait neckline. White leather, eh?
Thanks, Amy. At this point in my life, I'd probably spill something on the white leather before I ever even made it to the event. Black is much more forgiving!
I honestly feel grateful for every vintage photo I have. And I remember poring over the really old ones, from when my parents were children, long before I had a family of my own. Photographs anchor me to memories that would otherwise drift away.