What felt like a heartbeat later, I enrolled my daughters in public elementary school. I still hadn’t acquired the Roller Girl just like a regular girl but much cooler Vintage shirt in contrast I will get this confident mom identity that I was seeking but I was able to find the familiar again in clothes that I once enjoyed wearing. I soon discovered that things were different in this setting. I met a diverse community of parents committed to their children’s education. No one was sizing me up for my clothes or for the insecurities of motherhood that I wore on my five-seasons-ago sleeve. These parents were paying attention to my involvement in matters affecting our children. When my daughters were in first grade I had the hours of 9am-3pm to myself. I used some of my free time volunteering at my daughters’ school. One of the volunteer opportunities I took on during this time was shelving books and copy cataloguing new books in the school library. I sheepishly revealed to the mom who led the library committee that I was interested in returning to school for a master’s degree in library science. Without pause, this mom led me to the school librarian for an informational interview. The librarian was enrolled in a program herself. Before I had time for self-doubt, I applied and was accepted to the same school the librarian attended. I was opening up new facets of my identity and once again found comfort in the clothes that I owned. My insecurities stemming from the responsibilities of motherhood and how lost I was in that one part of my identity had nothing to do with my clothes or my fashion sense.
Roller Girl just like a regular girl but much cooler Vintage shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
My daughters are now twenty-one years old, a milestone age. That may explain why I am feeling the Roller Girl just like a regular girl but much cooler Vintage shirt in contrast I will get this desire for a sartorial renewal. I am entering a new phase, a mother of adult daughters and all that implies. I considered some of the clothes I was giving away too youthful for me, flattered that my daughters selected a few to keep for their own. Clothes, while in my possession, are keepers of moments in my life. My attachments to them change amid the passage of time and my co-existing and evolving identities. The clothes are tangible while my memories of myself wearing them are not. When I see my daughters wearing old favorites I see the clothes anew, now representing their evolving identities. I allow myself to let go of old memories and see the clothes—and my daughters—in the present. My friend “Louise” lives most of her life as “Daniel,” a fifty-something heterosexual editor at a well-known commercial magazine in Manhattan. He does well—or well enough. (Like everyone in editorial, he’s felt the pinch recently.) Whenever time permits, or his girlfriend is out of town, he returns to his childhood home in an outer borough to become Louise.