River has 100 dresses. That’s a lot. I'm well aware that no child needs this much clothing. To try to mitigate the waste, I buy nearly all of her clothing second hand and nearly all gets passed down when outgrown. I stick to clothing known for durability to keep it out of landfills. Regardless of my efforts though, I know it's excessive, but it's not the worst vice a mom can have and I'd love to share with you the lovely story behind her closet.
I grew up in rural Pennsylvania with very little, but I always had more than one outfit to wear to school. In fact, I had exactly 5. Every summer my mother would send me to my grandmother in DC with pretty much only the ill-fitting clothes on my back, knowing my grandmother wouldn’t allow me to go without. Every summer my grandmother would buy me exactly 5 outfits for the upcoming school year; one for every day of the week. Unfortunately, seasons changed, I grew quickly, I played hard and I lived in an environment where things didn’t last well. Within a few months I was looking pretty ragged. And children, doing what children do best, noticed. I’ve said it before, the adage that material things do not matter is very privileged. To a child with nothing, things matter very very much.
I remember the book, “The Hundred Dresses” from elementary school vividly. I have chills right now just recalling it. In retrospect, I wonder if it had actually been a part of the prescribed curriculum, or if I’d just had a very, very good teacher that year.
In the book, a poor immigrant girl named Wanda is taunted for the blue tattered dress she wears to school every single day. One day, she stands up to the bullies by telling them about the beautiful one hundred dresses she has at home, hanging in her closet. But her obvious and bold fabrication only result in more abuse – the tormenters ambushing Wanda every day before school, harassing her about her lie, forcing her to painstakingly describe the fictional dresses in her closet…
It is revealed at the end of the story that the dresses in her closet were real in a fashion, they were drawings, beautiful drawings that revealed creativity, talent, pain, longing, and determination to make what she desired real in any tiny way she could; a tragic, pitiful, and beautiful attempt by a little girl to improve her situation. The children felt remorse, but Wanda was already gone and it was too late to make things right.
I remember hiding in the elementary school bathroom to cry after reading it. I remember throwing up.
I remember how Wanda’s isolation resonated with me. I remember believing in my heart that Wanda hadn’t really moved away like it said in the story, but had been taken into foster care – my biggest fear in third grade and a reality that would be realized for me just a few years later. I remember reveling in her classmates’ guilt. I remember that the story didn’t have a happy ending, only a lesson learned, and though only a child, I already knew that lesson all too well.
I also remember the word that Eli P and Ramon D used when I entered the room to "protect" themselves from me, to ward me away – “eek-ee-ock-uh-bee-kee.” The rest of the class picked up on that really quickly, and then the bus did too. They whispered it amongst themselves any time I entered a room or approached on the playground so they wouldn’t “catch my disease.” They didn't have a name for the disease, but I do. Poor. That was my disease. Poverty. I guess it is a little contagious, but not in the way they thought.
I looked funny. I probably smelled bad. I was weird and too smart and neurodivergent. I had no money and no friends. And I wasn’t just grossly unpopular, I was a leper, and the children loved the game they had created with my status.
While those children almost certainly haven’t thought about that word in years, maybe decades, I have. I’ll say that again. I have. I think of the word and of my 5 back-to-school outfits.
River’s one hundred dresses is a symbol of how far I’ve come. It’s realized hopes and dreams and vanquished fears. The giraffe dress we picked out for the zoo and the mermaid dress for the aquarium bring me joy. And at only two, she is already confident and expressive and joyful and I can help her present that to the world. Sure, my own style and likes are still some prevalent but each day she makes herself known more. Her tastes started emerging as early as 5 months old and it amazed me what an almost 5-month-old could tell you – she likes bolder colors than I do, she especially loves rainbows. As a baby, she loved ruffles, frills, and embellishments that she could pinch and pull. She preferred to sleep in bamboo or modal. Now, she's entering the twirl and princess stage pretty hard. Many of my dear maker friends, the kind of friends I wanted so badly as a child, have contributed in unique ways that remind me of the love I am surrounded by today.
I hope her pictures make you smile just because her personality is so clear on her face, if not reflected in the outfit. If not, you can just scroll on by.
Each day when we pick out her outfit it’s a little reminder that sometimes there are happy endings to sad stories and one of the small ways that I'm keeping a promise that I made long ago, that for my children, life will be far better.
