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finders keepers

27/06/2010

If it weren’t for the absence of stockinged legs and a lack of chest and stomach, I would have thought it was really her, just through the crowd there, waiting for me to go up and kiss her on the cheek and say Hello Gran, it’s been so long. Still, I pushed through the people and came to the rack, where the dress, all pastel squares and boat neck, was hanging at the very front. I stood for a moment, and then I touched it, with both hands. It was as soft as quality sheets that had been washed a hundred times. I lifted it from the rack and held it against me. Vintage fabric, the maker said. Beautiful isn’t it? I smiled, nodded, asked if I could try it on. Inside the change room, I slipped off my shirt and pulled the dress over my head, pushed my arms through the sleeves. I tugged awkwardly at the zip and as the dress came in snug around my hips, I could feel her talcum powder hug. I could see her kneeling in the garden with a basket by her side and could taste the cheap cupcakes she’d bring us from Woolworths, a whole one for each of us in our favourite colours. I stepped out from behind the curtain and stood in front of the mirror. I could hear her whisper, as she brushed the hair from my face, You’ve got such pretty eyes, love, no need to hide em.  The pastel squares, blue, green and a very light lilac, they seemed to agree. Yeah, I’ll get this one, I said. Do you mind if I just leave it on?

Find out more about this Hello Sunday outing.

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