The Sisterhood
Our closets can open the door to a special bond
I took one look inside inside Lynn Deane’s closet, and I knew she had it – that rare stamina for shopping that my mother also possesses and I sorely lack. You almost could hear the fashion angels singing praises in honor of the wide array of stylish and colorful dresses, evening wear, skirts, blouses, scarves, pumps, boots and accessories stashed inside Lynn’s walk-in closet.
Lynn, associate publisher for our sister publication St. Louis Woman Magazine, played hostess during my recent visit to the Gateway City for a bit of business and, of course, girl talk. It was a nice break from our “all-about-business” conversations – one of the inevitable consequences of constantly working under the pressure of deadlines.
As if we had been friends for years, we talked and laughed over coffee, confided in one other about the challenges in our lives and our abilities to overcome them.
The friendship bond was further sealed when we stopped by her house – which eventually led to a trip to that glorious closet.
All I could think was Wow! when I looked inside. It immediately took me back to the age of about 10 or 11 when I often stared in wonder at the assortment of dresses, skirts, suits, purses and shoes packed into my mother’s closet. Even now, I sometimes just take a moment to look inside my mother’s closet – mainly to admire her shoes – whenever I visit.
Unfortunately, my daughter, Alena, doesn’t seem to have that same fascination with my closet. Why would a 9-year-old be in awe of a sea of black dresses, black skirts, black pants, black pumps, white shirts and a smattering of beige, brown and grey pieces thrown into the mix?
Lynn urged me to throw some glam and color into my wardrobe. After surviving breast cancer, Lynn said, she decided to add some glitter and bling to her everyday wardrobe. Why save it just for evening wear? Life’s too short, she quipped.
Though she pulls it off masterfully, I wasn’t so sure I was up to the task.
Apparently, Lynn sensed my hesitation and gave me several items of her clothing to help me get inspired. After convincing me to take them – “Please take them,” she urged – I came back to Indianapolis in possession of several sequined tops, a sky blue blouse and a couple of jazzy skirts to join the dull threads in my closet.
Several days later, I came out of my room one morning dressed in one of Lynn’s tops. My daughter immediately took notice of the fact I was wearing a sweater set bearing at least 10 different colors – and a smattering of sequins. Her eyes widened in wonder.
My co-workers, who also are accustomed to me showing up to work dressed as if I’m in mourning, also couldn’t help but notice.
Lynn’s gifts did more than add a little bling to my days – and those around me.
They reminded me of a special trait women seem to possess in being able to share the ups and downs of our experiences throughout life. More often than not, it’s another woman – a friend, a confidante, a mother, an aunt, a sister or a co-worker – who helps us get through those challenges in life.
Why shouldn’t we emerge from our doors celebrating our special sisterhood with lots of color and a bit of bling?
