Dressed 2 Kill in a Red Vogue Dress

When Mom turned 90, she chose this, her favorite dress, to wear to the big party. She had some difficulty dressing herself in those days and I assumed I would help her into this formidable construction. But while I made us breakfast that morning, she put it on by herself in her room. I was astonished. Old memories stored in her body must have magically dressed  her that day. The only concession to age she made in this outfit was her decision to forego high heels. Thank goodness! Here she is, 90, and dressed to kill.

My mother loved beautiful things and took great care of everything she owned because "money doesn't grow on trees." No wonder then that this red wool dress trimmed in white ostrich is in as good condition now as it was when Maxine Ward sewed it from a Vogue "Paris Original" pattern in Chester in the '60s.

Mom is tiny and hard-to-fit, so when she wanted a special dress, she turned to Maxine who was, and probably still is, an equisite seamstress. Only someone with Maxine's skill could have made this dress, which was more constructed than sewn.

As you can see here, the dress is zipped up the front (you have to put it on over the head). Covering the zipper is a panel with 8 buttons, 4 on each side secured with 6 snaps at the top. Whew! Just getting into it required dexterity and resolve.

Ostrich feathers were all the rage in the 60s. Mom had a blue housecoat trimmed in ostrich. I suspect that the white ostrich trim on this dress wasn't part of the Vogue pattern, but Mom's fanciful personal stamp on this confection.

Pillbox hats were fashionable in the 60s, too, thanks to Jackie Kennedy's trend-setting millinery. Mom loved hats, wore them to church and other dress up events. But I think this is her only pillbox. It's white mink. I'm sure ostrich wouldn't have withstood Montana wind, dirt, and pelting snow, so mink was of course the hardier choice.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom, on this beautiful day in May! Your little red dress awaits its next party!

Saying Goodbye 2 Mom's House

This stream-of-conscious post from September 2014 was written on the last night I spent in my mother's Chester duplex before the new owners moved in.

Tonight I am going to try to sleep on a yoga mat that my brother brought up from Bilings on his second round trip of this big move out of my mother's apartment where she lived 11 years before the nursing home became the better option. I am surrounded by objects from my past which I find hard to spend time absorbing, like scripts from the plays I acted in during 1972 in Santa Maria, California when I realized that to succeed in theatre meant immersion in theatre and sacrificing other interests. My world was too large then to commit to a laser focus on theatre. But in looking at my old scripts, I feel the joy of participating in productions where actors gave their hearts to characters and the resulting creations sent audiences into appreciative laughter, tears, and feeling a part of something beyond themselves.

It's very quiet here in Chester now between trains and with an impending snow in mid-September. Not the Indian summer I was hoping to go out on, but maybe more fitting of my mood. Quiet. Contemplative. Soft. I have loved seeing my mother every day and seeing her recognize me and call me by name. She remembers I live in Washington. That I work in an office. During today's visit, I took some pictures of her which she didn't recognize as herself. Then I showed her some of her clothes I've photographed and she recognized a few, and looking at those pictures provided the most extended conversation I've had with her. What a window into her mind. If only I can find other ways to engage her. My dear mother, tomorrow your children will leave your last house. What will you know or feel of our good-byes to a phase of your long and instructive life?