Cranberry Velvet

image from here

I had stolen peeks into the secret world of Mom's closet a few times, usually seeking Christmas presents or hidden treats out of reach on the top shelf. So many interesting things, so many stories. Against the far wall, swathed in flimsy plastic, hung treasures from her life before motherhood--her self-made wedding gown and a few formal dresses from high school dances with Dad.  Lavender mostly, but the cranberry always caught my eye.

Knee-length cranberry velvet.  Boat neck.  Three-quarter sleeves with gathers at the elbows.  Wide pleats at the waist. Fully lined in satin.  Incredibly soft and meticulously preserved. A princess dress in my imagination--worn with white gloves and a crown. 

October 1983--Fourteen years old and my first Halloween masquerade dance.  I was immature and inexperienced with such adventures, but I knew what I wanted to wear and who I wanted to be.  Hesitantly, cautiously, I approached Mom, carefully preparing arguments to counter her reservations.  She removed the dress from its protective sheath, gently handing me the prize. Although slightly marred with sweat under the arms and a few errant drops of water on the skirt, it was beautiful.  And perfect.

White gloves from her cedar chest. Flat black Mary Janes. A glittery headband. Mom's real pearl necklace.  I had been transformed.

"Faithfully" by Journey announced my arrival. The old potato cellar was my castle, Travis Stastney my unwitting prince.

Let the fairy tale begin.
Linking up to RemembeRED at The Red Dress Club.