Irene Beckman

I know, it’s been a week since I got over here and posted a blog and I’d like to say I had an amazingly productive week … yeeeeeah, that didn’t happen, but hey, it’s all good. Despite my college-age son moving into this tiny apartment and the two of us tripping over each other every time we turn around, I am actually finding some kind of writing routine in all the turmoil. And really, that’s what last week was all about.

And since I’ve been away, I couldn’t jump into anything heavy (though I’ve got a doozie of a post for later in the week). So I thought I’d talk a little bit about fashion. Stop laughing. I may not be a fashionista, but I think about it every now and again.

These two women have written a play based on a book by Ilene Beckerman. It’s basically a look at how much of their memories are based on the clothing they wore. It’s supposed to relate to women as if everyone with indoor plumbing is all about what they put on in the morning.

Well, let me just to tell you I’ve had many significant days in my nearly 50 years and besides my prom and wedding dresses (which are pretty obvious), there is literally one dress when I was a kid, one pair of shoes (clogs that I had begged my mother to buy) and a sweater I bought myself in jr. high, there aren’t any clothes that stand out in my mind to go with the significant events in my life. Oooookay, so I thought of one dress I bought for Mr. Nina’s 5th college reunion that I thought was kind of cute and I danced the night away enough to get a special mention at breakfast the next morning (which is probably why I remember it.)

Other than that … I got nothing. I don’t remember the first piece of clothing I bought for myself or the perfect outfit I wore to highschool dances. (Which these ladies claim every woman remembers.)

I’ve lost all my grandparents and a parent. Pretty significant, but with the exception of Mr. Nina’s grandmother (because it was recent, we were on vacation and I had to buy a dress which I still own), I couldn’t tell you what I wore to the funerals. If it weren’t for pictures I wouldn’t remember what I wore to my sibling’s weddings or my children’s baptisms.

Am I the only woman who missed some fashion link in her genetics? I don’t carry fashionable purses or ruin my feet in sexy shoes that are impractical. My closet isn’t bulging with clothes that still have the tags on them. In fact, I rarely feel the need to add to my wardrobe and retail therapy wasn’t in my vocabulary until my daughter required some after a particularly stressful week at college. Yeeeeah, a nice massage with quiet music has it all over going through piles of clothes on the clearance rack. *shivers*

Please tell me I’m not the only person who doesn’t “get” this play. Am I the only one who, if I won a significant chunk of change, would likely buy something for my house or go on vacation? Clothes wouldn’t even be a blip in my list of wishes.

So what about you ladies … do clothes play a role in your memories? Cuz you know me, I’m dying of curiosity!