Grandma’s Polka-Dot Dress
During our family’s annual Christmas party, my uncle brought over dresses and coats that belonged to my late grandmother, Gladys. Some good old winter cleaning.
So I didn’t have to try them on in from of my watching relatives, who sipped wine and strong mixers, I picked out three dresses I knew would fit: the first was red polka-dot Mickey Mouse inspired, another a warm faded orange dreamsicle, and the third, a chocolate brown layered in blue flowers. Each one sipped up the side and had no more room to spare after my extra holiday coat. They smelled musty and farm worn. They felt like Grandma. It was the only thing I have or had ever been given of hers.
When I got them back home to La Crosse, I tried to fit them into my closet. It was a no go. It was like trying to squeeze that last book on your shelf, knowing well that it wasn’t gonna fit before you even tried. Not only did they not fit into my closet, there was no room left on the extra cheap plastic rack I had purchased from Wal-Mart after I moved into my house over a year ago.
I started to rummage through the pants upon pants, dresses upon dresses, and shirts upon shirts some that didn’t fit right, some that didn’t fit at all, some that I had never worn, some I don’t even remember buying. I never thought of myself as a shopaholic, but glancing between my overstuffed closet and Grandma’s three dresses that lay sprawled on my bed that I couldn’t squeeze in, I got to thinking: My Grandma, a working woman, a baker of the softest, fluffiest bread, and queen of making everything stretch, probably had only these three dresses in her closet and just a handful more to get her by, while I could probably not wash for three months, and I would still have some to spare. . . . It just didn’t seem right. How had a gotten here?
I decided then that I was gonna do more than just a winter clean, but a life clean. . . . The first person I told, “Jon.”
the Clothing Fast Project 