My Grandmother - The Fashion Plate

         Hello, gentle readers!

         So, it being Memorial Day weekend, I was cleaning out my closet (I do this every year at this time…have no idea why, except I don’t tolerate clutter very well. It makes me anxious) and found a shoebox. Thinking I had a pair of shoes I’d forgotten about (I know, it was a crazy thought…who forgets they have a pair of shoes?), I opened the box. It wasn’t shoes. It was something much, much better...

         A treasure chest of sorts, full of my grandmother’s costume jewelry—strings of pearls and clip-on earrings and pins and bracelets and rings. She loved that kind of stuff and I admit, I loved it, too. I recall playing dress-up whenever I stayed with her.

         I didn’t realize it at the time (probably because I was so young), but my grandmother was a fashion plate. She never went anywhere without being fully made-up (this included bright red lipstick to match her bright red nail polish). Her hair was always perfect. Of course, she had it done every Saturday at the Beauty Parlor—a French Twist, if I recall correctly—and she’d warp her coif in toilet paper then add a filmy kinda bonnet thing before she went to bed (so she wouldn’t muss up her ‘do).

         And her closet! Oh my goodness. The woman did not just own clothes…they were outfits, perfectly matched pairings of slacks and blouses, which also matched her shoes and purses (which she kept in this plastic shoe-tree thing).

         Why did I just tell you all this? Well, because I was in my own closet, looking at her jewelry, and I realized (grandma’s been gone since 1989) that in many ways, I’m just like her, though there are some differences. I have outfits, too (for work…when I’m not at the day job, I’m running around in ratty old shorts and t-shirts). I don’t, however, have matching purses….I carry one purse until it falls apart then get a new one. And I don’t, for some odd reason, wear jewelry, except for my anniversary band.

         Made me wonder if this is why my characters are always appropriately dressed (until it’s time to be undressed) in fashions of the time period I’m writing in and why I love to peruse the internet, choosing their garb. A possibility? Most certainly.

         Thanks, Grandma!

Until next time, remember to spread kindness wherever you go.

Marie