“Darling, I bet! Of course it’s the ‘50s! You walked in and I swore…” Charity turned to Gretchen, who laughed along while clearly not knowing what was going on. “That was January Jones with you!”
They both shook their heads. “I have no idea who that is,” Thelma said.
“Oh! Betty Draper! The quintessentialgorgeousbut complicated ‘60s housewife from that TV show.”
Thelma looked to Gretchen, who shrugged. Apparently, she had no idea what they were talking about, either.That makes two of us.
“Do you curl your own hair? Oh, look at that lipstick.” Charity wandered behind a circular rack of ‘70s sweaters. “You dress just like my grandma did. And I mean that in the most complimentary way.”
Thelma gradually loosened up as she gazed at a mannequin wearing an impeccably homemade collared dress, straight from the Simplicity pattern and with fabric either sourced from the local store or her mother’s collection from the Depression.I made a few of my own dresses from my mother’s fabric when Bill and I were first married…Then, as he made more money and they could afford a house, she was buying her dresses from Bullock’s, Macy’s, and a neighborhood shop called Irene’s Image.I wonder if Irene ever got her designs picked up by a New York fashion house…It had been the young woman’s dream. Every time Thelma stopped by, she made sure to compliment the talented seamstress, even if she didn’t buy anything.Now I realize I was probably flirting with her…Irenewascute…
“She does curl her own hair,” Gretchen said, when it was clear that Thelma was distracted. “I’ve seen her with her curlers in.”
“Oh, are you her friend? Sister?”
The two glanced at each other, blushing again. “We’re neighbors.”
Thelma playfully jabbed her elbow against Gretchen’s arm.
“What?”
“Is this something neighbors do in 2018?”
When Gretchen gave her a quizzical look that seemed to imply she had said something wrong, Thelma pretended she hadn’t meant anything.It was an honest question.Except Gretchen didn’t know the truth. Something Thelma didn’t want to face right now.
“Take a look around the shop!” Charity called from the back. “I’m going to rummage through some things I still have back here!”
“Wow,” Gretchen muttered when the shopkeeper’s voice was replaced with the instrumental jazz music playing on the speakers. “She really digs your style.”
Thelma almost asked what that meant, but she had a feeling she knew—and it was good.
“Look at this stuff…” What had felt so familiar only a few months ago now looked like it had been wrung gently through the wringer. Thelma gravitated toward the ‘50s section of the store and saw her neighbor’s shoes, Sandy’s favorite costume necklace, and the president of the PTA’s beloved navy-blue shirt-collar dress. And there was more than fashion! Charity had also collected a small selection of home décor and kitchen dishes that looked like they had come right out of “mid-century.”
Including Thelma’s mother’s Fiestaware dishes, some of which she had inherited.
“Look at this!” She tapped on a glass cabinet showcasing brightly colored ceramics. “My mother had these exact sets! Gosh, I remember growing up and always wanting the yellow one for dinner. It’s such a happy color.”
Gretchen peered inside. “Says here the red one is radioactive. Hope you didn’t eat off that. Also…” She stood up. “These all must have lead in them.”
“What’s wrong with lead?”
“Are you serious? Pretty sure they fought a whole war in Texas over leaded gasoline.”
Thelma didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t care. She was entranced by the “vintage” ceramicware that took her right back to just before the war, when her mother used to have other women over after church on Sunday. She told Gretchen about her memories of four finely dressed women, in their dresses, gloves, and scarves, sipping coffee from the same cups and saucers in the case. Gretchen listened patiently but was clearly out of her element as Thelma prattled about her love for the rich green color that had probably indirectly led to the purse she purchased one year before coming to… Los Angeles. Thelma was careful not to say 2018.
“Oh, you know your Fiesta!” Charity returned with some clothes flung over her arm. “I’ve spent years slowly collecting the vintage pieces myself. These are the extras I pick up from Facebook Marketplace and estate sales. You never know what the heck you’ll find on the internet. And so many people haveno ideathe actual value of what they have! See this Medium Green here?” She pointed to a salad plate prominently displayed on the top shelf. “It’s one of the rarest colors. Collectors can’t get enough of it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Thelma said. “When did that one come out?”
“Oh, it had to be very late ‘50s. Possibly 1960. I’d have to look it up.”
Right after I disappeared.Thelma had been pleasantly surprised to see how the brand had lived on for so many more decades, but couldn’t get Robbie or Megan to understand why the plates and bowls in their kitchen were simply good taste.From what I understand, he just kept buying the same kind of dishware we had at home, and his ex-wife coordinated the colors.Thelma still wanted to meet Becky, if only to shake her hand for her good work with the daughter… and the dishes, Thelma supposed.
“Now, I took the liberty of guestimating your size.” Charity showed off the dress on top of her pile. “Some of these haven’t yet made it out to the floor, but some of them I’ve been holding for online sale and…”
“Is that what I think it is?” Thelma yanked a white and green A-line dress off the pile, holding it up so she could take in the original belt and crisp linen touching her fingers. “Givenchy?”
“My word. She really knows her vintage fashion…” Charity said to Gretchen, who was more lost than ever.
