Other than the dress, the accessories have history for me. I honestly like ritzy things with history, but these are special because I can see my grandmother wearing them. She was raised dirt poor with an abusive alcoholic father. I can’t blame the guy for drinking though. He was a musician who came to this new world hoping to find opportunity, and ended up stuck in the middle of nowhere farming with 5 young kids and a dead wife (she died shortly after arriving in America). He was also Czech, which at the time was worse than being a Polish and so work wasn’t easy to find, and socially the entire family was persona non grata.
My grandmother pulled herself out of that, and did her best to become a lady. Even when she was 80, she was hell bent on anything lady-like, and socially worked herself into good standing in the community. She often wore fancy dresses and went to refined social engagements. (Despite her bitching about the vanity of the other women in the group.)
These few accessories that I managed to inherit, bear memories and I think part of her spunky spirit. I love any excuse to wear them.
So dressed in my vintage attire, I went to the party. Luckily I wasn’t alone and many others dressed similarly. It felt a little bit like a prom, though no music was playing. We admired each other’s costumes, and saw each other all dolled up. It’s amazing the changes some heels, pearls, and well-styled hair can do.
I looked fabulous. I felt fabulous.
But most importantly, I felt randy. I felt sexy, and I wanted nothing more than a sexy romp in the “cloak room”.. not that there was one.
I was wearing lady-like pearls. Lady-like shoes. In a lady-like dress. With lady-like pristine gloves.
And all I wanted was to find a secluded spot to be taken like slut.
It was an odd feeling. Funny with the irony of it.
But one of these days, I’m going to get all dolled up and get taken “advantage of” in a coat room. It’s just going to have to happen. (I’m not sure I’ll give the guy a choice.)