This is a dress that was bought in a 1980s, Gunne Sax outlet that was tucked into a rundown strip mall in downtown Montclair, California. A store where the dressing room was one, big open room and my 15-year-old self thought she might die of embarrassment undressing in front of other women.
This is a dress that was worn to one or two of the six formals I went to in high school. On the arm of boys named Tom and Jeff. Boys I dreamed of making a life with one day. Boys I am so glad I didn’t marry. Boys that were kind and handsome and sometimes thoughtless and hurtful. Boys that put up with the same from me.
This is a dress that danced to the music of The Cure and Depeche Mode. In gyms that reeked of sweat, hormones, Obsession perfume, and Polo cologne. A dress that rustled when I walked and felt smooth under the tentative hands of teenage boys as they held me during slow dances. A dress that made my girlfriends squeal in delight, as I did the same for them and their dresses.
This is a dress that put up with my insecurities about my body. This is a size nine dress. A number that I thought, in my youth, was too big. A number I tried to diet away. A number that I thought made me unlovable. A number that sounds incredibly tiny to me now.
This is a dress that my younger sisters borrowed. It carries their memories of dances and boys. Some of the stories I know. Some I don’t.
This is a dress that spent years tucked away in a closet at my parent’s house, surviving moves and a raging forest fire.
This is a dress that was pulled out of storage so my toddler daughter could wear it for dress up. It turned her into a princess. It became stained by dirt from the yard and toddler snacks. Its straps were cut and tied to stay up on her tiny shoulders. Its top was folded down, turning into a skirt for an elementary school performance.
This is the dress that, overtime, magically faded from ice blue to soft pink.
This is a dress that has been embroidered to cover stains. It is dress that is still coveted by my daughter, now at the age I was when I bought this dress. A dress she wants to wear to formal dances that she will go to with boys that she thinks she will want to marry but won’t. A dress she wants wear so she can feel like a princess again.
This is a dress. It holds my youth, my sisters’ youth, and my daughter’s. It is so much more than a dress.
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*Want to hear the soundtrack for this memoir essay? Here's my This is a Dress Spotify Playlist.
Hi Laura,
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful story about your dress. I didn't keep much from my teenage years. I had lots of bell bottoms, peasant dresses and tops. I sewed bands of embroidered ribbons on the bottom of my bell bottoms. I made simple bags and embroidered peace signs and big daisies on them and made "peace" beaded necklaces. But I love this story of yours that really brings those times in full view.
Those clothes would be so in style now!
DeleteHow wonderful that it has lasted long enough to make special memories for an entire family. What could possibly be better?
ReplyDeleteFirst-THANK YOU! for following me to my new blog. I always appreciate your lovely comments. And yes, I feel very lucky that I saved my dresses. I had no idea I would have daughter who would be wearing them one day.
DeleteA beautiful post, Laura. I'm amazed you held onto the dress so long and how cool that your daughter loves it now, too. The color change from blue to pink is fascinating.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what they used to dye the dress originally?
DeleteOh, I love everything about this. You write so beautifully I was transported back to the high school gym and the mall and so many other places from long ago.
ReplyDeleteWhat a cool legacy that dress has made...I can't think of anything I've hung on to for that long but hopefully all of my quilts that I've made and gifted will have that sort of memory for the recipient! And WOW, from blue to pink...That's kinda crazy in of itself!
ReplyDeleteWhat a cool dress! I remember Gunne Sax dresses and thinking they were amazing. I had a couple of dresses from the Jessica McClintock outlet that I loved. I have no clue what happened to them though. It's amazing you held onto that dress for so long! What a history it holds. Ah, the Drakkar Noir, Polo and Obsession. I remember it well.
ReplyDeleteLaura, you made me cry. Such a beautiful post and legacy piece. I am in awe with your talent and ability to transform it to something that your daughter loves!
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful beautiful post. I remember that dress and I remember that girl in the picture. Love you
ReplyDeleteOh, this is so special <3.
ReplyDeleteHi Laura,
ReplyDeleteYou do write really well. I think you made a great decision for the start of your new life. This blog is a perfect story. Thank you for sharing part of you and your creative life.
Asha
amenghra@hotmail.com
Lovely! So much rings true that I was transported back in time. ❤️
ReplyDelete