This being my first series of blogs I wanted to start by sharing personal stories and that shaped my ideas about fashion, style, and the importance of caring about and for yourself both on the inside and out. You'll also find in these stories consistent references to my mother who was and is the greatest influence and architect of the personal style and styling skills I poses today. Being that Easter is right around the corner and I've moved from one great protestant church town to a great catholic church town, I felt this blog entry to be most appropriate. You see in many communities Easter is of course about the rising of Jesus Christ and celebrating the hallmark of Christianity.... which of course makes Easter Sunday outside of Christmas and Mother's Day one of the biggest Sunday's on the Church calendar. That being said it's THE most important Fashion Sunday on the church calendar.
As a little girl, Easter was a very exciting time of year. My brother, sister and I were always visited by the Easter Bunny and would wake up to large baskets filled with treats. There were the extended church services with more music and fanfare than usual, and of course after church there was the Easter egg hunt. But most important of all....... the Easter dress. You see the Easter dress isn't just a dress, it was and is an ensemble. For a time my sister and I had matching uniforms, but oh were they glorious. The dress was always in a shade of pastel, probably a few layers of ruffles. At least two. The undies with the ruffles, the opaque white stalkings or the ankle socks with ruffles around the ankles. Some years I wore a hat (my favorite years). The hat would be made of straw, most likely white or a matching pastel shade. I almost always received a white patent leather purse which would contain tissue, chapstick (over the age of 8) and maybe a piece of candy. All of which my mother for the most part was able to acquire on her own with a sense of ease upon understanding the height and bodies of her children. She could maneuver the crowds in the mall picking out the Easter outfits on her own and avoid the difficulties of towing her youngster along.
But the shoes. The shoes were special. They were almost always white, and always patent leather. The shoes were acquired from the same store almost every other parent in Baltimore bought there children's Easter shoes. Sammy's in East Baltimore was the Easter shoe haven of Charm City. If you understood quality and value, you stood in that long line, reminiscent of those you see outside of an apple store during the premier of a new iphone, and patiently awaited you chance to peruse the aisles as your child sat on the wooden bench restlessly swinging their feet while the adults chattered, and hurried, and yelled shoe sizes and styles at the attendants trying to quell the throng of church going Baltimorians concerned that their child's shoe would be bought before they even had the chance to try it on. I hated going to Sammy's. To me it was dark, and grey, and crowded, and noisy. It was a shoe in a converted row house on East Fayette Street. I didn't understand that being there meant I was going to have an amazing pair of quality shoes, made with a care and skill you won't find today. I didn't understand that these shoes for whatever reason were a fraction of the cost they should have been and I didn't understand how lucky I was to be able to have a pair of the shoes. What I do remember is being there and how pretty I felt on Easter Sunday when I put on my beautiful shoes. I also didn't realize this was my first lesson on the importance of being an informed consumer. You see, my mother was never one of those blinded by bright lights, advertisements, and the way of the crowd. She's an intelligent woman who always spoke the mantra of quality over quantity and cost. My mother has never been impressed with the cost of something, but rather the style and beauty. This applies, to clothing, furniture, and the home you live in. Sammy's is unfortunately no longer in existence, at least it wasn't when I checked the yellow pages, but it's clear to me why even now you'll find me searching for the small neighborhood store owned by the man or woman who just had a passion for furniture or vintage clothing, and enjoy seeing others who share their love for beautiful well made articles. Take me to the specialists, the people that still know and care about their product. The people that still care to stand behind their reputation and brand.
I hope you enjoyed my first post. Please leave comments and subscribe. And if you know anyone who is as fashion obsessed as I am or can relate please share. There will be a lot more to come....
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