Love, Loss, and What I Wore (7 page)

I was influenced by Audrey Hepburn and Jackie Kennedy when I bought this white empire dress at Loehmann’s in Florham Park, New Jersey. I hadn’t bought a dress in a long time. I only went to the food store or the pediatrician. I shouldn’t have bought the dress because by then my body was nothing like Audrey Hepburn’s or Jackie’s.

I wore the dress to Al’s Christmas party at the advertising agency where he worked. I had rushed to get the children settled, to pick up the baby sitter, and to catch the Lakeland bus to New York—so I didn’t eat. I was so hungry when I got there, I ate too many hors d’oeuvres and drank too much champagne too quickly. I threw up in the ladies’ room. Though none of it got on my white dress, I never wore the dress again.

Copy of a Pucci minidress I bought on impulse at Bloomingdale’s. I was never comfortable wearing it. I thought it was too bright and too short and that I would run into somebody else wearing it who looked a lot better in it than I did. My therapist told me I shouldn’t feel guilty if I didn’t want to wear it.

I wore Al’s ties occasionally because I’d seen pictures of Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, and Katharine Hepburn wearing ties, but when the movie
Annie Hall
came out and everybody started wearing men’s ties, I stopped wearing them.

My grandmother let me have my ears pierced when I was thirteen. She went to the doctor with me to have it done. Julie, my youngest daughter, came home from the mall one day with three holes in each ear when she was twelve. I told her I thought it was barbaric to have so many holes, but the following year I went to the mall and had a second hole made in my left ear.

I ordered this beige wool pants suit from the Spiegel catalog. It was my first mail-order purchase. I thought it would be a good interview outfit because, now that the children were all in school, I wanted to get a part-time job.

When I was offered a job as a public relations assistant, I accepted. According to the women’s magazines, having a job qualified me to be one of those lucky women who had it all—a husband, children, and a career. But things hadn’t been the same between Al and me since the baby died.

I loved this print jersey Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress. It was easy to put on and very comfortable. I wore it the day I had my hair cut and permed at Sassoon’s in New York.

Driving home, I knew I had to tell Al that I couldn’t stay married to him anymore.

I bought this three-quarter-length long-haired raccoon jacket from Bonwit Teller’s fur department in the Short Hills Mall. I had opened a charge account in my own name after I got a job and it took me a year to pay for the jacket. I was glad I had bought it, though, because after Al and I separated, money became tight.

Getting ready to sell the house, I went through the attic and basement and made three piles of clothes—those to throw out, those to give away, and those I didn’t know what to do with but couldn’t throw out or give away.

For my fiftieth birthday, I had the bags removed from under my eyes and bought these black suede boots on 8th Street in the Village. I recalled that Al’s mother had been fifty when I first met her. She’d never owned a pair of high heels in the sixty-five years she’d lived. When I think of her, I always picture her with a dish towel over her shoulder.

For Isabelle’s wedding, I wore a short white silk pyramid dress with white embroidery on the collar and cuffs that I had bought at a Neiman Marcus outlet store. By the time Lillie got married a year later, I felt more confident. I wore a black strapless faille dress that reminded me of one Rita Hayworth wore in the movie
Gilda.
Over it I wore a Donna Karan long white silk shirt.

When my first granddaughter, Allie, was born, I found some of my daughter’s baby things in one of the boxes I had saved and gave them to the new baby.

Now that Allie’s four, she loves to play dress-up when she comes over. I polish her fingernails and toenails bright red and let her play in the drawer where I keep all the awful colors of lipstick, rouge, and eyeshadow that aggressive saleswomen talked me into buying.

But what Allie really loves are my boxes of old clothes, high-heels, and hats. I watch her face as she looks in the mirror and sees how beautiful she looks in my old dresses. I wonder if she’ll remember some of them when she gets older.