I just finished reading
Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank: A Slightly Tarnished Southern Belle's Words of Wisdom by
Celia Rivenbark, and if you like southern female humor, this is one of the books for you. Bought it in Seaside when I needed to take a break from civil rights books. Anyhow, no truer words were ever spoken. Especially after all that pageantry.
I do not dress my imaginary daughter in sequins and belly shirts. She wears smocked dresses. We wore our red ones with the white smocking with those nice red english mary janes you needed to use a buttonhook to get the mother of pearl button through the hole. If you are really little you can wear a smocked sunsuit. When you're a big girl you get to wear dresses with the peter pan collars. Sometimes you could get away with sleeveless, but usually your dresses had puffy short sleeves. Your mom might make you wear a petticoat but really only for the Christmas play. A satin sash with a bow is festive but really only for Valentine's Day and your birthday.
Smocked dresses take a lot of time, patience and skill which means there is no way your mother can do it. Mine tried once after we all went to sleep. I saw her iron the blue pattern onto the fabric and had no idea how she could connect all the dots to make a real dress. Needless to say, my grandmother made most of ours except for the ones mother saved up to buy at the fancy children's store next to the antiques place. I can smock, but it's been a long time. I taught myself, like I taught myself to embroider and to cook.
Sometimes I wonder where my mom was except I know that she took us to lots of historic houses and museums. And she gardened and rode the big green lawn mower (which we were allowed to do, too, on her lap, which is strictly verboten in today's world of car seats and bicycle helmets). Hey, maybe that was the beginning of my farm machinery fetish. My Uncle Peter had a Gravely. I can't remember if he borrowed ours or we borrowed his but I think we had one between us. Using the Gravely was a man's job. My mom could paint a mean window sash and wash the grout with muriatic acid. She could caulk the deck on the boat, too. She sewed most of our clothes, but the details drove her nuts. I remember catching her sticking a beautiful ivory satin quilted bathrobe with gold threads on it after she thought I'd fallen asleep watching the TV. My sister and I sat in our big blue leather chairs watching the TV until we fell asleep at which point my father carried us upstairs to bed. I still can't put myself to sleep. Anyhow, I saw her sewing and she said it was for my sister. On Christmas morning, I opened a beautiful ivory satin bathrobe with gold stitching. "Just like Laurie's!," I exclaimed. Nope. It was always mine.
Back to the smocking, I'm sure you'd know it if you've seen it, and if you were born anytime before 1960 I'm sure you have. And if you are a nice person, you still see it, preferably on your own children. Here are some smocked stuff. Aren't they exquisite?
It takes a very, very long time to smock a dress. There must be nuns somewhere who do this for the Pope's nieces. You have to have pretty good eyesight or least a good magnifying glass. My grandma had one of those things. She could read the small print in the newspaper with it, but we found large print books at the library and then she didn't need her magnifier too much. It made her eyes look really big and kinda scary. Threading a needle takes very good eyesight. I could never figure out why everyone always asked me to thread their needles. I now understand. I wish Lila Rae were good with needles.
10:09 PM |
I do not dress my imaginary daughter in sequins and belly shirts. She wears smocked dresses. We wore our red ones with the white smocking with those nice red english mary janes you needed to use a buttonhook to get the mother of pearl button through the hole. If you are really little you can wear a smocked sunsuit. When you're a big girl you get to wear dresses with the peter pan collars. Sometimes you could get away with sleeveless, but usually your dresses had puffy short sleeves. Your mom might make you wear a petticoat but really only for the Christmas play. A satin sash with a bow is festive but really only for Valentine's Day and your birthday.
Smocked dresses take a lot of time, patience and skill which means there is no way your mother can do it. Mine tried once after we all went to sleep. I saw her iron the blue pattern onto the fabric and had no idea how she could connect all the dots to make a real dress. Needless to say, my grandmother made most of ours except for the ones mother saved up to buy at the fancy children's store next to the antiques place. I can smock, but it's been a long time. I taught myself, like I taught myself to embroider and to cook.
Sometimes I wonder where my mom was except I know that she took us to lots of historic houses and museums. And she gardened and rode the big green lawn mower (which we were allowed to do, too, on her lap, which is strictly verboten in today's world of car seats and bicycle helmets). Hey, maybe that was the beginning of my farm machinery fetish. My Uncle Peter had a Gravely. I can't remember if he borrowed ours or we borrowed his but I think we had one between us. Using the Gravely was a man's job. My mom could paint a mean window sash and wash the grout with muriatic acid. She could caulk the deck on the boat, too. She sewed most of our clothes, but the details drove her nuts. I remember catching her sticking a beautiful ivory satin quilted bathrobe with gold threads on it after she thought I'd fallen asleep watching the TV. My sister and I sat in our big blue leather chairs watching the TV until we fell asleep at which point my father carried us upstairs to bed. I still can't put myself to sleep. Anyhow, I saw her sewing and she said it was for my sister. On Christmas morning, I opened a beautiful ivory satin bathrobe with gold stitching. "Just like Laurie's!," I exclaimed. Nope. It was always mine.
Back to the smocking, I'm sure you'd know it if you've seen it, and if you were born anytime before 1960 I'm sure you have. And if you are a nice person, you still see it, preferably on your own children. Here are some smocked stuff. Aren't they exquisite?
It takes a very, very long time to smock a dress. There must be nuns somewhere who do this for the Pope's nieces. You have to have pretty good eyesight or least a good magnifying glass. My grandma had one of those things. She could read the small print in the newspaper with it, but we found large print books at the library and then she didn't need her magnifier too much. It made her eyes look really big and kinda scary. Threading a needle takes very good eyesight. I could never figure out why everyone always asked me to thread their needles. I now understand. I wish Lila Rae were good with needles.