This one is Snow White. The gold braid on the bodice, the detachable peplum, the ribbons on the sleeve, the little cloak - all lovingly sewn into a small girl's dream. And clearly a costume. To the grown ups anyway.
But for the child wearing it? She isn't merely dressed like Snow White - she is Snow White. Just as those little girls who go to the supermarket and the cafe as fairies - complete with tiaras, wands and wings - are fairies. You can see it in their faces, the way they carry themselves.
It would never have occured to me as a child that it might be possible to leave the house in dress-ups. It certainly wouldn't have occured to my mother to allow it. My public appearances were always as her daughter. Which, from my point of view, was also a costume, albeit one I was sentenced to wear for the foreseeable future.
But back to the dress-up hamper. Inside were firemen, dinosaurs, miniature showgirls, crusaders, princesses and various creatures, all waiting to be animated by a small body and a big imagination. We also spotted a couple of church-fair bargains in the shape of Margaret Thatcher jackets (which I wish I'd never seen), and two ball gowns of M's, both made by her own mother.
This was her first. As you can probably tell, it's a Mother's Daughter outfit. The soft white un-structured cotton screams virginal ingenue, while its young wearer pined for sophistication.
That came later - in the form of this one. A far more grown-up affair, now that M was a married woman.
I loved M's hamper. I don't want to come over all maudlin, but how wonderful that she (and her mother) not only made these outfits, but that M kept them. They are a colourful, crumpled testament to love and imagination.
And the ball gown she's making K? Another costume, really (as is my tango look). One in which C will be able to conjure up a self more glamourous than her quotidian one. A gown in which to spend an evening being what she wears.
That came later - in the form of this one. A far more grown-up affair, now that M was a married woman.
I loved M's hamper. I don't want to come over all maudlin, but how wonderful that she (and her mother) not only made these outfits, but that M kept them. They are a colourful, crumpled testament to love and imagination.
And the ball gown she's making K? Another costume, really (as is my tango look). One in which C will be able to conjure up a self more glamourous than her quotidian one. A gown in which to spend an evening being what she wears.
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