Growing up, my relationship with my Mom and her relationship with MY clothes was a long, prickly, sordid affair! OK, not so much sordid as contentious. Simply put: She hated that I spent my money on clothes and thought that I bought too many.
The reason I started working at fifteen (earning $1.35 per hour as a “fruit girl” at Quaker Gardens, a retirement home) was not because I enjoyed getting up at 5:00 AM to be at work by 6. It was because my Mom said she could not afford to buy me school clothes. Not buying it. She just didn’t want to.
[I have plenty of horror stories about our fights over my clothes…maybe I’ll get in to those later…then again, maybe not...]
TO THIS DAY I still buy tons of clothes and I can still hear my Mom’s nagging voice:
“You’ve got enough! Stop buying clothes!”
Didn’t listen then. Don’t listen now.
This week a news item reminded me of a shady clothing incident involving my Mom.
At U.S.C. (my alma mater), the Athletic Director got the boot. The job was given to Pat Haden, former U.S.C. quarterback (also a Rhodes scholar, attorney, U.S.C. BOD member). He hired an Associate A.D., his long-time friend and former teammate, J.K. McKay.
When I read about those events, I was harkened back to the ol’ college days.
I attended Southern Cal when Pat Haden and J.K. McKay played. I lived in an apartment building near campus. Down the hall, Pat and J.K. were roommates.
It was for J.K.’s older sister, Michele McKay’s June wedding,that I wore “the dress my Mom gave away.”
I had purchased it at Bullock’s Wilshire in L.A.—an empire-style sundress—with thin straps, a square-neckline, and pintucking. The material was beige linen. (I thought the color showed off my tan. Typical.) The skirt was flouncy. I can’t remember how much it cost, but I’m sure it was too much.
I wore blue Espadrilles with it—and a funky blue pop-bead necklace and matching earrings. I thought I looked good.
Later I brought the dress home to my Mom’s place in Anaheim for safekeeping and hung it in a closet. When I went to retrieve it, it was gone. My Mom said she had given it away.
“You did what?!” I said.
“I didn’t think you wanted it,” my Mom replied. “I gave it to Mrs. So-n-So.” (One of her customers from her beauty shop.)
“Why didn’t you ask me first? I only wore it ONE TIME!”
“You have enough clothes.”
I forgot most of that wedding.But I never forgot the dress. And the subterfuge surrounding its demise.
