Fashion Backward

The other day my co-worker Amy and I were working a little late. As we were talking, she mentioned that after work she was going to do something similar to a “read-through”. She belongs to the renowned improv group the Mop & Bucket Company (MopCo) and it has opened a lot of doors for her! (free plug: they perform in Schenectady, New York at the Proctor’s building, the Underground, on Friday nights J.)

This conversation led to me telling her that I had done the play Sorry, Wrong Number in Junior High. What was interesting at the time was the director took hundreds of pictures of the cast so instead of us performing on stage the photos were projected on a big screen and our voiceovers provided the dialogue. I really enjoyed that at the time, especially what I wore. I played a medical office worker, so I got to wear a suit: blazer, skirt and nice shoes. Being only 13 at the time, I didn’t have any clothes like that so I had borrowed the suit from my mother. She had a lot of them because she knew many wealthy ladies who sometimes gave her gorgeous clothes. So I decided that I wanted to dress like that all the time.

So picture this: I am 13, in the 9^th grade, wearing these ladies’ suits from probably the late40’s and early 50's: short fitted jacket, white blouse, mid-calf-length skirt with the little flare at the bottom, and pumps. I had a cream and black colored suit, a lavender one, a black one, a hunter green one and a blue one. My question is: where in the world did I think I was going, looking like Lois Lane??? I was 13! Add this to the picture: my mother wore stockings, not pantyhose, and I wanted to wear stockings too. However, I knew nothing about garters and such, so I used MASKING TAPE TO HOLD THEM UP. I can’t make this stuff up!

I really thought that I was a stylish trendsetter: not realizing I was fashion backward and not fashion forward! But I think the piece de resistance was the outerwear: it was this long black velvet Victorian coat. It was cinched at the waist and then flared out from the hips and came to just above my ankles. You couldn’t tell me I didn’t look spectacular! Well, maybe for the 1840’s…

I don’t know who was laughing harder: me or Amy! I hadn’t thought about me wearing those clothes in a lot of years. Maybe I had purposely blocked out those memories: who knows? But I hadn’t even mentioned to her that when I outgrew my mother’s suits, I had switched to sometimes wearing one of my father’s blazers. During college, I still liked the androgynous look because of my love for David Bowie, so sometimes I would even wear a tie.

Then one night when I was out with my friend Lynne, I was talking to this girl at the club who knew my brother Keith. Afterwards, he came up to me laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked him. He said, “That girl I was talking to asked me if my brother was single. I said my brother wasn’t here. Then she pointed you out!” Needless to say: that was the last time I wore my father’s suit!