An occasion to remember

She has put on her best dress. White. Her finest shoes, white short socks. On her arm, a bracelet. Her mother arranges her hair. Her blonde curls… She feels special, beautiful. She looks like haute couture. It’s a special day.
I imagine she’d never been to see a photographer before. I can picture her going through Rue de Huchette, or perhaps Quai St. Michel after taking the metro. She holds her mothers’ hand quite tight. And her mother is careful in the busy streets.
In the studio, she takes her coat off. The city is not summer warm anymore.
I think that after walking a bit, she needs to run around, and move and play, without holding hands with anyone. But she is probably very polite, and a bit proud that she can take the photographers hand and say “Bonjour”. Words in a foreign language.
Maybe she found the leaf outside, on the street. It looks like a leaf from an oak tree. Maybe the photographer thinks it’s a good idea to leave the leaf right there, on the bench where she sits when he takes the picture.
She puts on her most lovely smile. She is happy.
Afterwards they went to buy a colourful and sweet “gateaux” or some “petit four”. Or perhaps ice cream. She’d eat like a little princess, and be very careful not to ruin her lovely dress.
They’d have a good time together, my mother, and her mother in wonderful Paris, 1936.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “An occasion to remember

  1. My mother is moving and recently gave me her grandmother’s wedding dress from 1890 (bloomers, slip, camisole, skirt, top) and I imagine something similar to your day dreams… I can’t believe how perfectly it’s been preseved.

Your thoughts here:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s