Imagine Carrie Bradshaw, age 8
Easter is uaually my favorite holiday, and it still is, but this year... nothing special. I love the flowers, the dafodils and tulips, all the pretty pink pastel colors, the chior singing, the cherry blossoms in my back yard at home, new dresses...
Weeks before the big day my sisters and I (mostly I) would scoure the pages of the Sunday Lamonts and Bon Marche adds, carefully selecting the perfect Easter dress, my grandma usually bought us our dresses, or if she was delusional that year and couldn't differentiate between us and her long dead cats, then my mom would sew our dresses. (I got new clothes twice a year, two outfits in Spetember for school, and a new dress at easter, I got by because I barley grew at all and could wear the same clothes for three to four years, and I was the third daughter with pleanty of hand me downs) I have vivid memories of all these dresses, my favorite being from the age of seven or eight probably. It was a standard girls dress pattern, little puffy sleeves, sash waist and full skirt, but what was special about it was the fabric, the under layer was a plain cotton blend with two shades of gray, thick vertical stripes, with a white chifon overlay with a pale pink flower print, and a pink satin sash. It was stunning, the stripes just peeking through the flowers. I must have promised to keep my room clean for a week to get my mom to also buy me a pink satin bow hair clip. Just picture it, my soft bown curls half up with silky pink ribons, just pricesless. To this day I haven't looked better. Forget about Easter bunnies and baskets, coloring eggs and hiding them, Peeps? What are peeps? It was all about the dresses.
Our neighbor was known for her sweet rolls; sticky cinnamon, gooey carmel pecan and sweet orange. She would make them every Easter morning and drop a batch off to us at right after the sun came up. (for some reason all of my easter memories consist of bright sunny mornings, even through I know that was not pocssible in Seattle) After gobbiling mine down I was off to primp. Before church we took our anual easter pictures, the one day out of the year we were all decked out and looking cute and sweet and like we actually liked each other. (I will try to get some old pics from my dad to post,
they are funny) The photo sessions seemed to take hours, my dad would have to set up flashes and reflectors, and we were posed just right on the hearth or the foot stool, squeeze together a little bit more, just a little bit more now . Between the sugar and hairspray high we ended up feeling like child stars and actually cooperated with big, sweet smiles, flash, flash flash.
Easter was the one Sunday out of the year I actaully liked the fact that church was 3 hours long, 3 glorious hours for me to prance and parade arround as close to looking like princess as I would ever come. Good thing they never taught sunday school lessons about vanity and worldliness on those days, I was too busy trying to catch my reflexion in my shiny shoes.
Weeks before the big day my sisters and I (mostly I) would scoure the pages of the Sunday Lamonts and Bon Marche adds, carefully selecting the perfect Easter dress, my grandma usually bought us our dresses, or if she was delusional that year and couldn't differentiate between us and her long dead cats, then my mom would sew our dresses. (I got new clothes twice a year, two outfits in Spetember for school, and a new dress at easter, I got by because I barley grew at all and could wear the same clothes for three to four years, and I was the third daughter with pleanty of hand me downs) I have vivid memories of all these dresses, my favorite being from the age of seven or eight probably. It was a standard girls dress pattern, little puffy sleeves, sash waist and full skirt, but what was special about it was the fabric, the under layer was a plain cotton blend with two shades of gray, thick vertical stripes, with a white chifon overlay with a pale pink flower print, and a pink satin sash. It was stunning, the stripes just peeking through the flowers. I must have promised to keep my room clean for a week to get my mom to also buy me a pink satin bow hair clip. Just picture it, my soft bown curls half up with silky pink ribons, just pricesless. To this day I haven't looked better. Forget about Easter bunnies and baskets, coloring eggs and hiding them, Peeps? What are peeps? It was all about the dresses.
Our neighbor was known for her sweet rolls; sticky cinnamon, gooey carmel pecan and sweet orange. She would make them every Easter morning and drop a batch off to us at right after the sun came up. (for some reason all of my easter memories consist of bright sunny mornings, even through I know that was not pocssible in Seattle) After gobbiling mine down I was off to primp. Before church we took our anual easter pictures, the one day out of the year we were all decked out and looking cute and sweet and like we actually liked each other. (I will try to get some old pics from my dad to post,
they are funny) The photo sessions seemed to take hours, my dad would have to set up flashes and reflectors, and we were posed just right on the hearth or the foot stool, squeeze together a little bit more, just a little bit more now . Between the sugar and hairspray high we ended up feeling like child stars and actually cooperated with big, sweet smiles, flash, flash flash.Easter was the one Sunday out of the year I actaully liked the fact that church was 3 hours long, 3 glorious hours for me to prance and parade arround as close to looking like princess as I would ever come. Good thing they never taught sunday school lessons about vanity and worldliness on those days, I was too busy trying to catch my reflexion in my shiny shoes.
posted by kiki @ 11:54 PM
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