As a general rule, mothers and daughters like to shop together. Right?
Well, most of the time. I can think of a few instances, as a teenager, when shopping with my mom felt so incredibly long, boring, or painful. And I know that MY daughter feels that way with me from time to time! Although Anna recently admitted that she likes to shop for clothes now so I'm thrilled we've crossed that painful hump.
For the most part, shopping is something my mom and I enjoyed doing together. Shopping for home stuff, window shopping, vintage shopping, and of course, clothes shopping.
Because of struggles my family endured throughout my growing up years and my little mind having a vague understanding of the tight budget, I never ever asked for clothes. When we went to a store I never assumed I would get something. And the idea of begging or pining over something was just absolutely foreign to me and out of the question.
That being said, my mom still found ways to treat me. When she came home with a new skirt or fun summer outfit or hat (for some reason she sure loved me in hats! It was the 80's/90's.) it was such a thrill!
As I became a married adult and a mom, she still took me on shopping dates. Each visit home she insisted on a shopping trip. She would say, "I want to get you something fun." Sometimes that would be something fun for my house and other times it would be something fun to wear.
On the clothes shopping dates I had to model each outfit for her, of course. She would smile & comment on how cute everything looked on me, sometimes steer me toward something out of my comfort zone, and always make me feel fabulous & special. Thinking back, I realized that she rarely (if ever) tried anything on herself -- it was all about me.
Last spring as she was planning a party at her home (forever known as "the pineapple party") she was in need of the perfect floral skirt for the event. After much consultation via text & sharing pics, she settled on this beautiful skirt from White House Black Market.
So fitting that it is called the Poppy Skirt. (She had named her new home where the party would be held, Poppy Hill)
I was visiting in early May 2017 when the skirt arrived at the house one day. It was beautiful!
Right away she said, "Shannon, I want you to try it on." What? I was confused because I knew this skirt was for her and her special event. But she wanted me to model it so she could figure out how the top would work and what shoes would be needed to pull the whole thing together. My mom had lost so much weight in the previous 6 months of her cancer treatments that we were now the same size. Additionally, I knew that the shear effort it would take to change in and out of clothes just for fun was too much for her.
So I slipped on the skirt along with a shirt she had made especially for the event (a black scoop neck tee with a gold foil pineapple on the front). When I came out to model the outfit, her face lit up and she said, "oh my goodness that is so CUTE!" She kept raving about how adorable it looked on me and while seated in her favorite comfy seat at the dining table she fiddled with the shirt - tying vs. tucking. She sent me back to her closet a few times to search for shoes that might go with the outfit and in the end we came up with an ensemble she was quite happy with.
Something about the way she lit up reminded me of all those shopping trips we enjoyed in the past. I didn't understand it back then, but now that I have a growing daughter of my own, I get it.
To watch her grow and develop into a young woman . . . to see her wear something that makes her feel great and the confidence that comes with it . . . to wonder where has the time gone but at the same time marvel at what wonderful things are to come . . . to feel gratitude for the blessing of a beautiful, smart, kind, ambitious daughter who knows who she is and the joy that comes from getting to have a part in her journey . . .
Can you believe that all of this is possible from a silly skirt and the reflection of dressing room mirrors?
The next day another package arrived from White House Black Market. It contained the exact same Poppy skirt! Mom must have ordered it twice, by mistake. During this time she had begun to have some memory issues, so unsupervised online shopping might not have been the best idea. :) I began to prepare the skirt for mailing it back as a return, but she insisted that I keep it for myself. It wasn't a cheap skirt, and with those habits of frugality of my childhood ingrained in me I had a hard time accepting. But she relentlessly persisted and finally I took the extra Poppy Skirt home with me.
She wore hers to the pineapple party later that month and looked stunning.
I've kept my skirt and oddly, never quite felt comfortable wearing it. It's just a piece of clothing, but I felt like this was her special thing -- her big fashion statement at her last big party. And I didn't want to encroach on that.
It has hung in my closet and finally, this Easter, nearly a year later, I finally felt ready to wear it.
And I felt a piece of her with me.
Her unmistakable sense of style. Her poppies. Her compliments & adoring smile.
And --- she would be so so proud and delighted to see me wearing pointy toed heels! Haha! We used to have a debate about this -- she likes pointy toes, I liked a more rounded toe. But as time has gone on, I've come around and embraced the pointy style.
Once again, she was right!
