Sunday, March 29, 2009
Knock knock. who's there? My mother's insanely cool coat. FYI: It's floor length and it's paired with a matching herringbone skirt from BEBE’s in London circa 1969.
I don't know what was going on here. I imagine she was making a grand entrance at a party where there was a parrot and a tray of mushroom brownies. And Donavan.
This was another dress she had handmade in Italy. It was cheaper to have things handmade back then and everything in Europe was a bargain. Is it me or does it seem like parents traveled a lot more in their 20's than I ever have. Also they didn't wear tevas and fleece. It's not exactly fair.
Mom was on vacation in Jamaica with her friend Regina in 1968. Another babe who worked at the Playboy Club. They were travel friends says my mom. Which means their relationship was based on 3 important elements: 1) their equally good looks 2) their shared desire to blow all their meager weekly earnings (my mom was an advertising account executive) on last minute trips around the globe. 3) their superhuman ability to be dude magnets. See love-struck Jamaican militant in background of photo.
Footnote: On this particular vacation, during a layover on the way back to New York she met my dad.
Footnote on the footnote: My mom has just informed me that the above information is totally wrong. She actually met my dad two years later on a layover in the Bahamas in 1970. Sorry pops, but the lady had a good two extra years of looking like this before you snagged her. Sucka.
Pretty, ain't she? It's customary for a mom to hold up a picture of her daughter and gloat. Allow me to do the reverse. There she is: my mom looking fetching in a gamine wool frock in 1963 during a trip to Portugal. Call me a proud kid, but pictures of my mother in her twenties-- pre-me-- is a treasure trove of style inspiration.