Or does it? You tell me. Here’s the story. It’s a few days before my birthday party and I’m without an outfit or time to find one. I remember my mother returning from a funeral earlier that week with a vintage number worthy of praise. The top took the literal shape of a butterfly with embroidery and sheer crotchet to hosting the contrast communicated by its black and white; sequence and cotton; classic elegance and a risky appeal evident to a younger generation (me). The ankle length bottom (skirt) was a necessary plain black.
The outfit was initially bought in 1990 for my grandmother’s funeral, so convincing my mother to borrow it (after trying to get her to hand it down the way she’d other vintage items) was a mission. A brawl of ambiguous emotions begged conclusion, and the only way my mother could get me to shut up was to give in. “for the only time in your life…” she said. “What?” “You know how much it means to me, I respect it like nothing else.”
And so I wore the top with jean hot shorts and wedges to the party. I let my face compliment the outfit with a unicorn feel top knot hair do, lavish lash and a dark plump lip prior to the cake crowning. Fun it was. On my friend Vanessa’s birthday. This is for you, I love you.