Favorite frocks are more than fashion

Fashion is only the attempt to realize art in living forms and social intercourse. Sir Francis Bacon

Do you have fond memories or stories to tell about some favorite clothes? Perhaps the item itself felt good or made you feel good when you wore it. Maybe the outfit was a gift or the very first thing you bought on your own or what you were wearing when you met a certain someone.

In kindergarten I had a dress with a maroon velveteen bodice. I stood up at show-and-tell to show my dress, but Mrs. Engle told me to sit down because everyone had seen it.  When I was eight there was a plaid taffeta dress with sparkly buttons for a cousin’s wedding, and at 13, I was a junior bridesmaid for a close family friend. I wore a peacock green satin sheath with a removable skirt, that is, a separate piece that was like a cape but fit around the waist. From my high school years I remember: a purple pleated skirt and an emerald green jumper, a moss green cable sweater I knit and a teal blue one my aunt sent from England, a grey culottes skirt and a Madras shirt, and finally the brown corduroy jacket that I bought with my babysitting money. As a professional I fondly remember a couple of ‘power’ suits, including a navy blue striped pantsuit and a designer skirt and jacket from an outlet mall in New Jersey.

Now, here is a different question about favorite attire.  Do you have one or more pieces that you have faithfully packed away or moved from apartment to apartment?  These are items that for whatever reason you cannot discard – yet. In that category for me was a pink wool suit and a brown velvet formal from the1960s and a long floral hippie-type dress that I last wore to my parent’s 50^th wedding anniversary party in 1978. I think it was packing for my move from the City to Oak Park in 1992 when I took them all to Goodwill, finally admitting I would never fit into them again.

But my very favorite outfit from my early years was a yellow summer dress.  Here is my brother

home on leave and me in that dress, so I think it’s the association with those carefree days and a special connection that made me love that dress. The next summer when I tried to put it on, it did not fit and he did not come.  I took my little scissors to that dress and cut it up. Well, as much as a four or five year old can cut cotton. Today I can look at this picture and fondly remember the warmth of this moment and the anger that came later. I think that’s actually pretty good value for a yard of material.

What clothing stories do you recall and will you tell?

Marilyn