Hello friends! Today I thought I would bring back my Wednesday Women posts with a bit of a twist:
I s'pose you could look at this as a backwards Wednesday Women post, since what I am sharing isn't a photo of a lovely vintage lady, but a lovely vintage dress instead!
Since we have spent the past two months moving, cleaning, purging, and touching every object in our apartment, we have unearthed quite a few things we completely forgot we owned...which is, in a way, completely frightening. Our apartment is tiny. How could we possibly forget about things in such a tiny space? You would think that with so little space you wouldn't be able to hide things long enough to forget about them, but apparently you can!
Cleaning out one of my old bins of bits & baubles, I saw a bright orange corner of fabric sticking out from beneath an old, empty photo album I once meant to turn into a road trip memory book. I had a hunch about that little fabric corner so quickly tossed the photo album into the 'please don't make me look at that ever again' pile, grabbed the creamsicle corner of fabric and proceeded to squeal with delight, for that bit of orange fluff was indeed a vintage frock!
I then remembered a particular weekend visit to my grandmothers house during my first Summer home from college, when she let me rummage through her linen closet and take home a few vintage pillowcases, sheets, a hair kerchief, and this little dress. I don't think I ever tried the dress on, I just liked the juicy color and--of course--the dainty little daises trailing down the front of the frock in two determined lines. The dress went into a bin, moved a few states away, and ended up in my basement storage cupboard.
After my recent rediscovery of this little gem, I decided it was time to see if it fit me. While slipping it on I noticed it had completely hand-stitched seams, most of the ends not even trimmed up or tidy, as if someone carefully cut the fabric, assembled the pieces, then hastily abandoned it. A woman in my family made this dress...and I get the melancholy feeling they never wore it.
The part that makes this dress completely and utterly eery? It fits me like a glove.
As if someone took my exact measurements and hand made me a custom dress.
Did one of my fashionable great-aunts stitch it up in the 1960s for a weekend party? Did my grandma plan for my mother to wear to a high school function? I have absolutely no idea.
But it fits me.
I don't know who made this dress or which of my female relatives was going to wear it, but if that person never got to wear it, I will certainly wear it this Summer in their honor.