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Clothes & the Older Woman
In her latest letter from America, Iris Carryer goes on a depressing shopping trip...
These days shopping for clothes is an increasing chore for me, but on the rare occasions when my sister and I shop together we derive a certain grim satisfaction from furtively observing each other's scythe remarks.
"What do you Do with a Body Smoother?" she asks, endeavouring to struggle into one. "do you smooth your belly up into your bust, or your bust down into your belly?" I'm pre-occupied. Trying to decide if I wear a turtle neck up to hide my crepey throat, or down to draw attention away from my sagging jowls. The fitting room light shines on my sister's beautiful silver hair, which is so like my mother's.
"Do take your mother shopping, girls." Pa commanded one day. "She's beginning to dress like you Aunt Beattie, and that dragon Miss Lily has her mesmerised!"
Aunt Beattie was our maternal grandmother's sister. She dressed depressingly in earth tones, and loomed large in our lives like a freshly-fertilized field. Miss Lily flapped ominously round 'Better Gowns' in the local emporium. She was always draped in black from neck to toe, and was wont to hover silently during the decision-making period, secure in the knowledge that Her Time would COME! What the customer was foolish enough to try on, Miss Lily determined that they bought, suitable or not.
Realising that Ma needed protection, we accompanied her to the store one day and watched helplessly as she disappeared under a noisome mound of mustard-coloured checks. Lily swooped on her cornered prey at once, grabbing fistfuls of fabric which she pulled tightly across mother's bosom. From the front Ma resembled an egg-timer, but her back was shrouded in fold after fold of heavy yardage, with Lily clinging in there like some creature from the crypt.
Clad in this particular offensive garment Ma's appearance at the local race track, for instance, would have paralysed punters andponies alike, to say nothing of Pa. We thought as one. "Tally Ho!" we pealed, and giggled. Mother froze,and rose to her full five feet. "You ghastly girls!" she sobbed. "You don't understand! I don't know what to wear anymore! Everything's beginning to SAG! I've got things to HIDE!
Feeling mean and awful we steered her towards a red Chanel suit, and talked her into lost of gold chains. We soothed her with tea and fattening cakes. She recovered quickly enough to glare at us over the tea table. "One day you girls will know what getting older feels like and I sincerely hope I'm around to see how YOU react!" she said balefully. But we couldn't even imagine caring what we looked like if we ever reached the great age of 46!
Returning to stark reality I found that my sister had somehow crammed herself into a camel-coloured knit, the padded shoulders of which humped to her ears. She looked as if she had just galloped across the Sahara. "Tally Ho!" I said.
"Oh Lord!" said my sister. "What bitches we were!" But do you remember the size Ma grew to?" As wide as she was tall!" She looked depressed. "With me there's not much left to SAG," she said, "Everything's filled out and rounded!" "Sagging's my bag!" I said gloomily. "Gravity's grounding me!"" We perked up. "Let's laugh and sneer at it!" I said, "You be fat and funny, I'll be creased and caustic! We might not be fashion plates but at least we'll be interesting!"
We repaired for tea and cream cakes, in loving memory of Ma.
To what lengths have you gone to disguise or change a part of your body?
Has shopping for clothes with someone close enhanced or endangered the relationship?
Which item of your clothing causes the most adverse reaction from loved-ones? Why?
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