Memories

Hubby and I were sitting outside last night after the kids went to bed. We love to do that when we have a few quiet minutes to ourselves. We had stopped doing that for awhile, but thankfully, have gotten back to it. We were talking about our growing years. He was getting ready for a camping trip last night and we were taking a break from getting the truck loaded.

One of his hobbies is making fishing lures. He's really pretty good at it. His dad is his biggest "customer". His dad likes lures in certain colors, tied certain ways, with certain colored jig heads. And usually he can't find what he's looking for, so he calls my hubby. And hubby makes them, and his dad catches fish. The point of all this rambling is that hubby had found two jigs he had tied that he wanted to take. And they had iridescent threads running through it that of all things reminded me of a prom dress that my mother had made for me. So here's my story.

Mom was a fantastic sewer. I almost failed a semester of single survival in eighth grade because I had a hard time sewing four straight lines to make an apron. Mom made most of our clothes growing up. Sometime she would make matching outfits for me and my sister. And sometimes she would make matching outfits for all three of us. We were so cute. We were almost always guaranteed to have an outfit that was one of a kind. But that is something I didn't appreciate for a very long time.

The first time my sister had to have a formal was in seventh grade. It was for a band banquet. The style at that time was tea length formal. It was almost like prom for seventh and eighth graders. So my mom made her dress. And it was beautiful. And nobody had one that remotely resembled it. There were, however, several girls that had the same dress on.

Come time for my band banquets, I went to the go to woman. I went to my mom. She took me to the fabric store and let me pick out the pattern. She had final OK, because she was making and paying for the dress. After I picked the pattern, I picked material. Sometimes I knew what I wanted as soon as I saw the dress, but sometimes it took a little wandering. Nobody had a dress like mine.

My two favorite that she made for me were my prom dresses. I felt like the bell of the ball and it was fantastic. My junior prom dress was spectacular if I do say so myself. I picked a pale creme colored fabric that was fantastic against my tan. I was so dark the dress almost glowed. On the fabric were dime sized polka dots that were iridescent. Every time I walked by a different light, the dots changed colors. And with the material glowing against the darkness of my skin, and the changing dots, it made quite a sight. That was probably the fist time I felt really beautiful.

The dress had a ruffle the was probably two inches wide at the top. It could be worn up like straps, or down for a strapless dress. I wore it down because I didn't have strap lines. It was fitted throught the bodice and had a slanted drop waist. That waist did things for my body that should be illegal for 16 year olds. But that's most things anyway if you ask me.

I had seen the pattern for my senior prom dress on one of mom's many trips to the fabric store. I couldn't wait for prom so I could ask her to make that dress for me. After months and months, it was time. The dress was strapless. It wasn't fitted too tight through the bodice, but fitted enough. It had a "belted" waist and dropped straight down. It was gorgeous. I had mom make it in a deep emerald green fabric that had a slight sheen to it. The top was outlined in a black lace that had, of all things, irridescent flowers. There really isn't a pattern there, it just sort of happened. The back was gathered at the bottom and had a lace panel in the back with lace ruffle. That dress was awesome and once again, I was one of a kind.

The only formal my mom didn't make was my sister's senior prom. I think my sister wanted the shopping for a dress experience that most girls like to have. But there were several girls there with the same dress, but only one that was the same color. I could have slapped her. I think my mom was a little hurt. But she held it together in front of us really well.

I loved going to the fabric store and looking through all the books at the beautiful clothes. And to find the right outfit for the right occasion and know that what you are wearing was made for you. It was made to fit your body in the colors that you like. And mom always did great work. I loved touching the fabrics and seeing the colors and trying to put things together.

All I had to do to was cut out the material on the line that mom told me to. She did the rest. She did most of it by hand. She would put an old movie on tv, make a pot of coffee, and smoke a pack of cigarettes, while she made our clothes. I even had her make me clothes one year instead of buy me school clothes. It also helped me establish a style that was uniquesly my own. Mom would measure, lay out and pin the material. Then she would stitch and sew and fit and refit and add zippers or buttons or snaps. She did fantastic work and I loved the clothes she made.

I guess I just need to say thank you again to my mom. She never fussed about making our clothes. She always made her girls look beautiful. And I just hope we appreciated what we had then, because I sure appreciate it now.