My mom is mortified that I bought a black summer purse. I needed a bigger size purse to carry all the stuff that is extra in the sunny time of the year. I found one at goodwill that was a former diaper bag but very sheekly black. It was only three dollars and I was happy.
When I showed it to my mom she said, "But it is black..."
I had forgotten the unwritten rule in the fifties that summer colors were worn after a certain time of the year. Being caught in black shoes in May would have been scandalous. I remember her making a big deal to put all the winter clothes away and bring out the summer ones and get them all ready.
It is a natural idea. Seems right to dress for the seasons but taken to a ridiculous point it is so Odd. We live in California for heavens sake. It is always sunny. Sigh. I am lucky to have any clothes on at all.
So today I had my sundress on. But I was carrying my black bag and I had my ratty black sandals on again. We went to the movies and out to lunch. It was like a time warp. My mom was all dressed in pale yellow and white sandals. She made a big deal of transfering all her stuff from her black purse to her white purse.
Was she trying to teach me how to make the switch?
I mentioned I thought it was interesting that in the fifties people thought that white was for summer and black was for winter.
"They still do." That was all she said but I got the message.
Am I going to go out and buy a new handbag? Hell no. I got my fake diaper bag stuffed full of summer stuff and I am almost happy that it is black. Sick.
I have often said that every sentence out of my mother's mouth is something that I disagree with. Every sentence. Of course I have to admit that it is not one hundred percent. No one agrees or disagrees with another person that much.
So I look for the imperfections to enjoy the rules. I look for people wearing black in the summer around here. There are lots of them.