Playing dress-up
01 September 2011 05:55 AM Categories: Quotidian existence
Three years ago I wore nothing but faded fabrics and loose-fitting t-shirts. My shoes were generally athletic or practical, a-b devices. Then I decided to drop the mommy gear and focus on form. Form-fitting shirts. Pants that actually fit (necessitating trying them on versus buying them online). Shoes again, the glorious world of shoes. I realized that I wasn’t a preppy dresser, though neither am I one to toss around boas and chains, so my purchases began to reflect that.
Is this frivolous? Am I living life totally on the surface, with my cares about flattering shapes and forms? Can I help it? I’d like to be visible as long as I can, to acknowledge that what we wear matters, that one can look good and still be a mother (or, gasp, a middle-aged woman getting older every minute).
Yesterday, my mother and I went shopping at Crossroads Trading Company, a clothing resale shop. I bought skirts, the kind that flow in the breeze, and pants, and a loose-knit sweater (or she bought them, an early birthday present). And there in the back with the flats and the metallic sneakers and the strappy sandals was a pair of high-heeled black Mary Janes.
I haven’t worn heels since I was working, and even then the heels were generally low. But the shoes were cute and I tried them on and then tried them on with the skirts (always with the black and white, me, the stark patterns). They looked fashionable. They looked like fantasy, you know, the kind where I am always dressed up and feel good about myself, where I have a place to go and people to interact with. I pictured pulling on the silky flowing skirt with the black flowers on white, my shirt black (which one? I have a lot of them.), with those Mary Janes and my hair done right for once. I’d walk downtown to the psychiatrist’s office, prove to her that I was doing fine, just fine, and then I’d sashay to the drug store or the restaurant. I’d cross my legs and smoke a cigarette on the park bench outside the BART station with the rest of them, the crazies and the lost, the passengers.
OK: I need to aim a little higher in my dress-up fantasies. For now, though, I’ll take the outfit, the shoes, the plans and ideas, the way they hurtle me into the future and change how I think about myself.
From the prompt "A strain on the relationship."
I'm posting every messy Round Robin prompt, a prompt a day until the RR ends. Unless I tell you otherwise, this is the original 12-minute prompt edited only for clarity and typos.
Image: the shoes.
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