Right Out of My Closet

Miss Etta, I had a pair of embellished jeans, too. Took the hem out
and unraveled it, then sewed some embroidered braid stuff about 1/2"
above the frayed hems, then embroidered flowers all up and down the
legs. Had a body that looked right good in bell bottoms and hip
huggers. Oh, those were the days.

Y'all remember paisley? Had me a hip-hugger paisley skirt. With
matching belt. And I can still remember my first pantsuit I wore to
high school. When I finally talked the principal into letting girls
wear pants to school, I had to compromise and agree to his
stipulation that we would wear pantSUITS, meaning the pants had to
have a matching top. I had ways of getting around that, though. Like
that figure-hugging one-piece jumpsuit out of pale aquamarine terry
cloth I stitched up for myself. Oh, how I did love that outfit. It
was SO comfortable.

And the dress I wore to my senior prom, I ordered the material
through the mail and used the wrong side as the right side. I always
did LOVE to sew, but could never bring myself to go strictly by the
pattern.

Still can't.

Though I couldn't get my pinkie finger in a single one of those
outfits now, I sure do wish I had them so I could maybe chop 'em up
and make pillows and quilts or something. I can still remember all
those fabrics - one time in Home Ec, I was the only one who brought
blue-and-white-checked fabric for my pattern. Wasn't listening like I
should've been cause I did not hear Miss Whatzhername say NO checks.
When I went up on shaking legs to apologize and promise to have
something more to her liking the next day (she was a tall woman who
wasn't married and had no children which meant she could be right
vicious if the occasion called for it), she laughed and said for me
to go right ahead and use what I brought. Said I was the only one in
the whole class who was capable of using a checked fabric.

And that's quite a compliment, too, given that there were, let's see
- 1, 2, 3 . . . 7 of us in the class. 6.5 really, but that's a story
for another day.

Yes, I can pretty much tell my life stories by what I was wearing and
the pocketbook I was carrying at the time. Funny how a girl can be so
sentimental about clothes and purses and shoes, isn't it?

Miss Etta, your talk of jeans sure did get my memory generator kicked
into high gear.

Till next time,

Miz Vul