Sepia Saturday #226: A Long White Dress

My mother looks so stiff in her formal gown. She loved dressing up but hated social occasions. I know she'd have a drink before attending one of those "do's" as she called them. It was the only time I saw her abuse alcohol or more aptly use alcohol as a crutch. Most of her drinking was of the companion variety. My Dad loved his whiskey but he rarely drank alone: Mother was always on duty as the designated listener while Dad, whiskey fueled, Black Cat cigarette burning down between his fingers, ranted on about politics or recounted highlights of his war, the great war, WW1. If for some reason Mother wasn't around, my sister or me got the dreaded "ear" duty and had to sit quietly while Dad held forth. Like everyone else, I'd give a King's ransom now to listen to those stories but back then for a squirmy, cooped-up 10 year old, listening was Hell.

Here's my sister with her friends in formal dress ready for a prom of some kind. My mother sewed Eilleen's long dress and the whole household was draped in pieces of brocade and clouds of chiffon or netting as she got the sewing done. She sewed beautifully, much of it by hand, fitting the darts perfectly and matching the pattern pieces. For a year or so, during her single days, she worked for a tailor and learned a lot about "assembling a garment" as our home ec teachers used to say. I learned to sew both from her and at school but was never good at it. Our first sewing project was an apron and some kind of hat, on which we embroidered our names. By the time mine was done, the seams had been ripped out and re-done so many times, the apron was in tatters and the embroidered hat was grimy from handling, as I sewed and re-sewed the cursed thing. The funky starched hat was a relic from the past, even in the 50's. It reminded me of a waitress hat that Lucille Ball might wear, pinned in the hair. Thinking back I shudder with loathing for the thing and remember hating bringing it to class to compare with the other girls who did a pretty good job of the embroidery. 

With all that misery in my past coming from creating a hat, you wouldn't think I'd find this hat store and hat making school in Kyoto very interesting. But I thought the hats were wonderful and stood for a long time, admiring them through the window! And the idea of hat school, I thought CAPtivating! Forgive me, I couldn't help that.  Hat makers call themselves "Millinery Artists" - what a great title. I couldn't find a link for this school on-line so if you're interested in attending, you'll have to go to Kyoto, like I did. What a great excuse!

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