Thoughts Threaded
as a Woman Stares Down a Wardrobe Stitched Over a Lifetime
written by: Jen Schneider
The red sundress, with its collar of tiny yellow daffodils, has always been my favorite dress. He loved the purple A-Line with the asymmetrical hem. The ticket from our first date sits at the bottom of the leather tote. A mason jar full of buttons I never sewed. Stacks of oxfords he over-wore. Rings around the collar. Loose strings. Kisses in soft purple plaids and cranberry velvet brush shoulder to shoulder. On the top shelf — a fancy velour pouch with three-inch heels (never worn), pastel ballet flats (soiled) I hid under my wedding gown, and a battered shoebox stuffed full of vacation photos (mostly lakes, Grateful Dead concerts, and city corners) wait for someone or something to make things right. To the right of the items, a sand-timer waits for another turn. The carpeted walk-in closet was home to a private dance floor, of hand-sewn sorts. A slow waltz. The Cha Cha. Just because. As we’d travel through seasons (and reasons, so many, to quarrel the stitch a seed anew), he promised we’d always be together. Laundry conspires with fashion in curious notions. Nylons twist in far corners. His clothes no longer toil. Bruised knees, torn patches, starched collars. Threads and needles with no home. I do not wish to dance (or dress) (or dare) when his eyes no longer follow. I flick the light, then leave, contents and hands folded. The button that dangled from his three-button suit jacket (always, sometimes, never) in my pocket.
the upstairs wardrobe
a lifetime of (re)collections
flash in artificial light
- Thoughts Threaded - January 27, 2025
- What’s Normal, Anyway? - September 16, 2024
- The Button - June 12, 2024
