Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
by Sally Weare
It was hard to bring myself to do it, but I finally gave away that old coat of my mother's. It had been sitting in my closet for years, ever since she suddenly died and it came to me. But I'd never worn it.
I was in awe of it, its sleek design, the way it hung from my shoulders with its full-length mink collar, the surprising weight of it. And the best part was that soft wildness, modestly but oh so cozily located on the inside of the coat, where warmth counts. The outside was a soft rose-colored wool, lined with silk that still gave off a faint whiff of Chanel.
Whenever I tried it on, I felt almost sinful. Why sinful? Hadn't my life gone in a different direction from my mother's? I had no need or even desire for such a consummate fashion statement? Yes, I suppose it was that, and more. Besides being a fortuitous combination of good taste and large pocketbook, the coat itself was a declaration of a certain brand of femininity: sensual, seductive, costly. Did I even deserve to wear it? Where to and when? In my world there are few fashionable events, and yet lately "presenting oneself" has become all the rage. Of course I too preen and enjoy dressing up occasionally--but is it in my nature to join the parade? To stand out? To be noticed? Apparently not.
And so, this morning, I found myself stroking the coat's luxurious collar and slipping my hand inside the cool silky sleeve for the last time. I stood there picturing the moment when someone else tries it on, turning slowly before a mirror, finding in herself that new woman, and wearing it proudly out of the Goodwill.
Sally Weare is a Sonoma County writer, artist and horsewoman.
Her website with images from her latest Anima Series: www.sallyweare.com
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