| Copyright © 2012 |
Quiet Mountain Essays
| Giving Away My Lucy Dress by Dena Baris |
When I was eighteen my art teacher gave me a dress, because she had her colors done and she wasn’t
going to wear it any more. She told me that she bought it a few years before on a trip to England and
that it was a “knock off” Laura Ashley. It was far from the ruffled pedigree, but I didn’t care – a
recovering Durannie and an admirer of all things Brit, I gratefully accepted it.
Clashing upon clashing, this rayon dress has a bright red background with a small, all-over floral
print of bright purple and white. Short sleeves with a little red button, center pleating across the front
with a high round collar, and the skirt hangs down past the knee in this undetermined length that
pretty much doesn’t flatter anyone. Still I loved it, wearing it with a pair of mini-heeled, red,
perforated pumps and a circle cut-out belt (very 80’s; I think my mum might still actually have the
belt). Sometimes I wore it with black flats and my faded lavender jacket.
Around that time my friend Bob (from ACA Joe) dubbed it my “Lucy dress,” because he said I looked
like a 1950’s housewife on I Love Lucy. Bob named a lot of my outfits, including my Little House on
the Prairie dress. And, he disliked my bright yellow Mexx skirt, often wondering quite loudly if I
wore it to flag down the planes over Logan Airport at night. ACA Joe was the U.S. division of
Acapulco Joe’s, famous for selling tees, swim trunks, and shorts in Mexico. The U.S. division was
based in San Francisco and we carried chinos and sweats, including a cut off short-sleeved sweatshirt
named the “233.” During my years at ACA Joe I learned a lot about life, love, human nature in
general, and also I learned how to fold and fold and fold.
Bob's nickname for the frock stuck, so it became my Lucy dress; not to be confused with my Lucy
bag, which I so named because the cute black bag was a present from my friend Lucy. The Lucy
dress came with me to college, where I wore it with my ACA jean jacket to interview Oscar my
writing professor after he won the Pulitzer. His class was a unique academic experience, and my
stories put off my colleague Sean, for he gave me the largest remote crew ever – who later got reamed
by my producer Eric for shooting Oscar in the sun (“the man is bald!”).
The best thing I remember about the interview was Oscar chatting with the crew, saying how I was a
very nice girl, and “maybe a little too nice.” Truer words about me were never said. Later I wore the
Lucy dress temping and to the jobs I landed in the years post-college. One night when I was in grad
school I left the layout for our newspaper, The Suffolk Journal, to take the train over to BU to see
Oscar. Toting the book he gave me, I started to explain who I was because he clearly didn’t
remember me as a former student. He was polite enough, but I cut it short and got out of there. It
was hard for me to release something from the past that was so important to me on many levels, but I
realized there was no longer a mutual connection, and that was a good lesson for me. Since then I’ve
read his books and I’ve heard Oscar read. One time my friend Lucy and I went to Faneuil Hall to
hear him read, and as he walked in he drew his hand across the keyboard of a piano set up near the
stage.
Every time I look at the Lucy dress, I realize that I wear it less and less. Each year I pack the closets, I
usually set aside a few clothes to try and see about giving away. Especially if I buy something new
then something old has to go. That’s the Maria rule after my friend Maria who explained it to me.
Well, last year – I marked the Lucy dress for consideration. There have been many dresses and other
items I’ve given away because they recall memories that I no longer want to hold onto for whatever
reason. People might scoff, but I do sometimes take an item out and remember when I wore
something, when I went somewhere, and exactly what someone said to me while wearing it. This
happens with songs on the radio, too, but you can always change the station.
For some reason the Lucy dress holds for me – that time in youth when I saw so many obstacles in
front of me but I had this strange feeling that I could somehow work around them. In some ways I
think I still am that girl interviewing Oscar, in the glare of the sun, on the bench out by our
communications building at the lonely edge of campus. In other ways I feel that I’m nothing like her,
and although I am sympathetic, I wouldn’t want to speak to her and explain or defend anything
about me to her – even if I could.
Well, the Lucy dress was so crinkled from the closet I sent to the cleaner. When it gets back I think
I’m going to slip it on and see if it still fits (it did last year), but even if it does that’s not really the
point. After taking a look, I’m going to say good-bye, neatly fold it up and give it away.
going to wear it any more. She told me that she bought it a few years before on a trip to England and
that it was a “knock off” Laura Ashley. It was far from the ruffled pedigree, but I didn’t care – a
recovering Durannie and an admirer of all things Brit, I gratefully accepted it.
Clashing upon clashing, this rayon dress has a bright red background with a small, all-over floral
print of bright purple and white. Short sleeves with a little red button, center pleating across the front
with a high round collar, and the skirt hangs down past the knee in this undetermined length that
pretty much doesn’t flatter anyone. Still I loved it, wearing it with a pair of mini-heeled, red,
perforated pumps and a circle cut-out belt (very 80’s; I think my mum might still actually have the
belt). Sometimes I wore it with black flats and my faded lavender jacket.
Around that time my friend Bob (from ACA Joe) dubbed it my “Lucy dress,” because he said I looked
like a 1950’s housewife on I Love Lucy. Bob named a lot of my outfits, including my Little House on
the Prairie dress. And, he disliked my bright yellow Mexx skirt, often wondering quite loudly if I
wore it to flag down the planes over Logan Airport at night. ACA Joe was the U.S. division of
Acapulco Joe’s, famous for selling tees, swim trunks, and shorts in Mexico. The U.S. division was
based in San Francisco and we carried chinos and sweats, including a cut off short-sleeved sweatshirt
named the “233.” During my years at ACA Joe I learned a lot about life, love, human nature in
general, and also I learned how to fold and fold and fold.
Bob's nickname for the frock stuck, so it became my Lucy dress; not to be confused with my Lucy
bag, which I so named because the cute black bag was a present from my friend Lucy. The Lucy
dress came with me to college, where I wore it with my ACA jean jacket to interview Oscar my
writing professor after he won the Pulitzer. His class was a unique academic experience, and my
stories put off my colleague Sean, for he gave me the largest remote crew ever – who later got reamed
by my producer Eric for shooting Oscar in the sun (“the man is bald!”).
The best thing I remember about the interview was Oscar chatting with the crew, saying how I was a
very nice girl, and “maybe a little too nice.” Truer words about me were never said. Later I wore the
Lucy dress temping and to the jobs I landed in the years post-college. One night when I was in grad
school I left the layout for our newspaper, The Suffolk Journal, to take the train over to BU to see
Oscar. Toting the book he gave me, I started to explain who I was because he clearly didn’t
remember me as a former student. He was polite enough, but I cut it short and got out of there. It
was hard for me to release something from the past that was so important to me on many levels, but I
realized there was no longer a mutual connection, and that was a good lesson for me. Since then I’ve
read his books and I’ve heard Oscar read. One time my friend Lucy and I went to Faneuil Hall to
hear him read, and as he walked in he drew his hand across the keyboard of a piano set up near the
stage.
Every time I look at the Lucy dress, I realize that I wear it less and less. Each year I pack the closets, I
usually set aside a few clothes to try and see about giving away. Especially if I buy something new
then something old has to go. That’s the Maria rule after my friend Maria who explained it to me.
Well, last year – I marked the Lucy dress for consideration. There have been many dresses and other
items I’ve given away because they recall memories that I no longer want to hold onto for whatever
reason. People might scoff, but I do sometimes take an item out and remember when I wore
something, when I went somewhere, and exactly what someone said to me while wearing it. This
happens with songs on the radio, too, but you can always change the station.
For some reason the Lucy dress holds for me – that time in youth when I saw so many obstacles in
front of me but I had this strange feeling that I could somehow work around them. In some ways I
think I still am that girl interviewing Oscar, in the glare of the sun, on the bench out by our
communications building at the lonely edge of campus. In other ways I feel that I’m nothing like her,
and although I am sympathetic, I wouldn’t want to speak to her and explain or defend anything
about me to her – even if I could.
Well, the Lucy dress was so crinkled from the closet I sent to the cleaner. When it gets back I think
I’m going to slip it on and see if it still fits (it did last year), but even if it does that’s not really the
point. After taking a look, I’m going to say good-bye, neatly fold it up and give it away.
| Contributor's Notes... |
Dena Baris was born in Boston. After training to be a journalist and nonprofit work, she entered public service.
She writes mainly fiction and lives across the harbor from Logan Airport's infamous Runway 22L.
She writes mainly fiction and lives across the harbor from Logan Airport's infamous Runway 22L.