Adorn

A parcel from my favourite clothes shop – Karma East – drops in my letterbox. Tearing it open, I reveal a print fabric bag that conceals a vibrant dress that delights my eyes. It’s blue and has proteas – my favourite native flower- scattered across its fabric. And there are birds. “Superb fairy wrens!” I cry though they’re probably not. I like to pretend. Why not?

I hold the dress under my chin and grin as I twirl in front of my girls. “Will it look good with my black combat boots and winter-weight tights?” I ask, and they reply, “Oh yes!” And I’m pleased that my adult daughters, who take an interest in style, don’t think I look old and stale but like how I choose to dress. 

Lots of clothes but nothing to wear. Racks of dresses, shirts, skirts and pants that all seem wrong. Old and mismatching and not the right style. Clothes that fail to evoke a smile. I’ve stood in my walk-in-robe, swishing the hangers along the pole, rejecting them all. And I’ve felt bad for being picky. Surely any outfit will do? It doesn’t matter what I wear. Put anything on. Don’t look in the mirror. Who cares what I look like?

 Maybe I’m too attached to material things, not virtuous enough to rise above them, but I do care about my clothes. They affect how I feel. The style, the texture, the colour, how they fit: I come alive and am full of joy in the right combination, strong, confident, and ready to face the day. The wrong clothes have a cloud attached that drags me down, makes life feel grey, and spoils my mood.

 Years ago, I attended a funeral with a toddler and had to retreat outside with my unhappy daughter halfway through the service. As I emerged from the church gloom into the warm sun, I met another woman with an upset child. Two mothers were alone outside while everyone else said goodbye to the recently departed. We smiled at each other, exchanged the usual few words about gorgeous babies and toddlers and enquired: “Do you have other children?”

The young mother rocking her only child in her arms, looked me up and down before saying, “How do you do it? You look so together. You don’t look like you have lots of children.”

I pondered those words and wondered: what is a mother-of-many supposed to look like? Hassled? Worn down? Exhausted? A crumpled dress, hair needing a wash, scraped back with a rubber band, a cardigan missing a button? No time to fix these things. Do people expect children to crush us flat, draining the joy from life and making us forget who we are?

Of course, we all have hard days when we must put our kids before ourselves. But generally, do we try to find time to do what we enjoy? Do we buy clothes we like, soak in the bath, style our hair, apply lipstick or do whatever brings us delight? Should we look after ourselves like a loved friend whenever we can, for us, for those we love, and for younger mothers to give them hope?

I can’t remember what I wore when I went to the funeral. Something black? Something smart? I probably didn’t stand for hours wondering what to put on. I no longer do that because I sorted out my clothes. I was ruthless and threw away the ones I didn’t like to wear.

Then I started collecting garments – mostly vibrant dresses – one piece at a time- that make me happy. Clothes that reflect who I am and make me feel pretty.

“Hey, you look beautiful!” says my husband when he sees my new favourite blue Protea dress (bought in a Karma East sale). I give Andy a twirl, and he says, “I could love a woman as good-looking as you!”

We laugh. It’s a joke. We both know Andy already loves me deeply. He would love me even if I clad my body in rough potato sacks. But still, I feel special when I hear my husband’s words. They make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

About six months ago, I was listening to an episode of the Pints with Aquinas podcast. If I remember correctly, one of the men, who were talking together, said he’d recently stood before his fiancée’s wardrobe of clothes, a gorgeous display of colour and textures, and had felt awe and wonder. Those clothes would adorn his soon-to-be wife!

Perhaps it’s okay to adorn the bodies God gave us and take pleasure in each other’s appearances. We don’t have to shrug off our yearnings for beauty, saying things like “If God wanted me to wear earrings or nail polish, He’d have created me with pierced ears and painted nails” or “Clothes are vanity. Stop paying attention to them.” No, we can dress up, have fun, be creative, express who we are, and delight in ourselves and each other.

It’s strange how often we utter words like “We should ignore our appearance and not look in the mirror” but at the same time pay lots of attention to what others are wearing, noting with a frown what each person chooses to wear to Sunday Mass.

I’m thinking about weddings and a bride standing before the altar, adorned in her finest: an expensive white dress, a never-ending train, a lacy veil held on with a jewel that floats over mascaraed lashes, soft hands with long painted fingernails clutching blooms. The groom looks at her with love-filled eyes, marvelling over her exquisite appearance. Is this my wife-to-be? Did she dress up for me? She’s so beautiful. I’m very blessed.

I imagined that scene because, of course, I’ve been a bride but not a groom. However, I know about dressing up, wanting to look my best, and making an effort for God and the people I love most. Years ago, I stood in a church in my prettiest dress, my feet enclosed in elegant but uncomfortable high-heeled shoes, with my handsome man in his formal suit, a fine tie around his neck, his new shoes shiny black, and his hair carefully combed. We gazed at each other with awe and wonder. Was this really us? Didn’t we look good? We were all polished up. Delight, joy and love flowed between us.

Clothes can connect us: two mothers, one younger, one older, a mother and a daughter, a groom and his bride, and my love and I.

Andy, gives me a twirl, hands in his pockets, showing off his new jacket. 

“You look so handsome!” I exclaim. “I could love a good-looking man like you!”

Things I Mentioned

My favourite online clothes shop: Karma East.

A favourite podcast, good for listening to while on long walks: Pints With Aquinas.

Things We Could Talk About

Can older and younger mothers be friends, encouraging and sharing, and making each other feel needed?

How do we get time for ourselves when life feels busy and overwhelming?

Is it important we care for ourselves? Will we be able to give more to those we love if we do?

What clothes do you like to wear? What’s your style? Perhaps you can share your favourite shop.

And if you don’t want to talk about clothes, we could chat about birds like the ones on my new favourite dress.

I enjoy watching the superb fairy wrens that flit in and out of the bushes in our front garden, but I also love the yellow-winged black cockatoos that swoop high overhead as I walk to the bush. When the season is right, I peer through our kitchen window and watch them feed off our melaleuca trees’ seeds.

So, why not stop by and say hello?

Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash