It all started for me when I was young. My mom made amazing costumes. We were clowns, witches, faries and princesses. We used to fight over who got to be the gypsy and carry Dad's heavy glitter glass round paperweight around like a crystal ball. An even bigger prize was when Mom would let us wear some of her costume jewelry. It was the seventies, and it was amazing.
And then I grew up and a terrible thing happened.
I was 14 and I wanted to be a southern belle for the church Halloween party for the youth. Wanted a hoop skirt & hat, big sleeves, the works (big sleeves because suddenly it was 1980 and Gunne Sax had taken the fashion world by storm). I wanted epic.
Here's what I got:
Yeah, you're right. Instead of looking like the amazing Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind, I looked like a frumpy polygamist wife. "What a cute pioneer costume!" I wanted to kick someone. But I couldn't. My mom had put a lot of time and effort into it, and I couldn't 'dis her at all. I think it was just a poor choice of fabric. My choice, actually. Much too calico. And not a hoop skirt to be found.
|Melanie's Ugly Gray Dress|
|Ashley's annoying sister|