My Mom & Fashion

A 60s beach beauty.

My mother was a wonderfully fashionable woman.  By that I don't mean that she owned all the highest-end designers or obsessively read fashion magazines and followed trends.  I mean she had an eye for putting together attractive, interesting outfits.  She knew how to accessorize.  She looked good.  Always.

When my mother died, one of my older cousins told me a story.  She said that when she was younger, her mother - at that time divorced from my uncle - sent her to one of our family events with a terrible, inappropriate outfit.  It made my cousin feel ashamed to have been sent to a dress-up occasion with only these clothes to wear.  My mom took one look at the outfit, and at my cousin, and took her shopping for a new outfit.  My mom bought her a dress and wedge-heeled shoes.  My cousin told me that these were the first clothes that made her feel good about herself and that she wore that dress until it was rags.  I treasured this story because it so exemplifies my mother's kindness and her style.

When I was a teenager, my mom and I would go shopping nearly every weekend.  We'd hit the sale racks at Macy's to find crazy good discounts on the name brands I felt I needed to wear.  Back then it was names like Guess, Esprit, Benetton, and, perhaps most embarrassingly, Z Cavaricci.  We'd spent hours digging through the clothes, trying things on, and doing the math to figure out sale prices.

She even looked good in the 80s.

I learned a lot from those shopping trips.  I learned that looking good makes you feel good.  I learned that having nice things is a privilege and should be treated as such.  I learned a little bit about work and reward and a lot about selflessness and love.

A perfect red print.

Even when we didn't live close enough to shop together regularly, my mom and I would talk about our latest finds and best deals.  A few weeks before she died,  I found a brand new Vera Wang Lavender dress for $35 in a consignment shop.  She wanted me to describe every detail of the dress and couldn't wait to see it.  In the same conversation, she told me about finding several pairs of Liz Claiborne capri pants in perfect condition in one of her favorite thrift stores.  We could talk color, fabric, and price for hours.

I'll miss our yearly Christmas shopping trip to the outlet mall, our impromptu fashion shows, and her advice on fit and accessorizing.  All my best outfits, my most creative ensembles, will be dedicated to you, Momma.