Like many obsessions, it began with a little black dress.
Smashed in the back of her cedar closet, behind the Italian designer gowns & the carefully bagged furs, it waited for 50 years.
Midnight black silk crepe, a bit sheer.
Deep V neckline, small shirred shoulders.
Sexy little zippers at the wrists & neck.
Nipped waist, swagged hips.
Sparkly jet beads rescued from mama's Victorian dresses.
She pulled it out for me once. It would have taken two of me to fill out the tops of the Italians, but this had been made when she was young, long before she landed the big band leader, before she became his arm candy in her furs & gowns.
She showed me how to dive into the skirt, raise it above my head with wrists crossed, wriggle just right so it glided down my ribs to rest on my hips. I zipped the unfamiliar side zipper & twirled. It fit like a glove. In a rare fit of generosity, she gave it to me.
I didn't know it then but time would tell me the dress was late 30s, after the Depression but before the war made silk scarce. It must have been a splurge for a most special occasion. Perhaps the dress went with the cheap plated bracelet marked To Dorothy . . . All My Love, A. J. that I would find stashed in her good jewelry years later.
The band leader's initials were E. R. He likely never saw the dress that transformed her from a boyish flapper in florals to a young woman in black, sexy & mysterious, the one who stole his heart. I imagine she took it out sometimes & remembered A. J., twirling the night away.
You never forget your first love.
We hope to help you find yours at BebopaDiva Vintage. Over & over again.
Like many obsessions, it began with a little black dress.
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