“Spring and Summer Collection of 1953,” Thelma recalled, although she instantly realized there were some differences from the dress she most coveted shortly before giving birth to Debbie. “This is a replica, though, isn’t it?”
Charity sighed in relief that she didn’t have to explain it. “Yes. Vintage from the ‘50s, but a very good homemade ‘replica,’ we shall say, of the design that brought us the A-line housedress that we all know and love.” She gestured to the dress she wore. “Isn’t it beautiful? I just picked that piece from a local estate sale. Seems that there was once a seamstress who made many of her own dresses to sell to local women. She had a wonderful eye for detail.”
Thelma slowly lowered the dress so she could look Charity in the wary eye. “Irene? Of Irene’s Image, by chance?”
“Why, yes! It was her estate sale! She passed away a few months ago.”
“You’re kidding…”
“Did you know her?’
“Actually, yes. I bought a few things from her.”
“Really? She closed up her shop in the ‘70s but kept designing.”
“Private sale,” Thelma said through pursed lips. “Would you mind if I tried this on?”
“Absolutely not! Please do!”
Charity showed Thelma to the changing room, which was nothing more than a closet with a blanket for a curtain. As she settled in, she heard the proprietress attempting to talk shop with Gretchen, but the more Gretchen spoke, the more it was apparent that she brought Thelma here to amusehermore than anyone else.
“She really likes this vintage stuff,” Gretchen’s muffled voice said as Thelma slowly undressed so she could hear. “Thought it would make her day.”
When Thelma turned and encountered her reflection in a mirror, she noticed she was grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, this all originated with Christian Dior’sNew Lookin the late ‘40s…”
Thelma nestled into the Givenchy replica as crafted by her dear acquaintance Irene.I wonder how long she lived…Irene was older than Thelma, but notthatmuch older. After all, she had started her business alongside her mother right after high school—Irene’s mother, the cantankerous but talented Dolly, was the finest seamstress in town, but it was her daughter who turned the shop into a destination for not just taking in and repairing clothing, but buying them wholesale.She must have been in her 90s when she passed.Was there anyone left that Thelma could say hello to?
Maybe it’s for the best.She adjusted her breasts and bra before checking her reflection.
When it was time to reveal the look? She had to hold in her giddiness. After all, that was Gretchen’s jaw dropping to thefloor when she saw the quintessential ‘50s woman sauntering back into the shop.
“I knew it was right to wear these shoes today.” Thelma gave a little turn, green purse dangling from her hand as she bounced her blond curls. “Do I look like I’m about to get my tenth punch for my Impala at Digby’s Gas ‘n’ Go?”
“Of course she has an Impala!” Charity exclaimed. “Did you bring it, by chance?”
Gretchen shook her head. “Sorry. Just my very modern Ford F150.”
With the skirt swishing around her legs, Thelma skipped forward, batting her eyelashes at Gretchen, who grew increasingly flustered as “June Cleaver” made her rounds in the vintage shop, much to Charity’s amusement.I barely know who that is.More than one person had referenced the showLeave it to Beaverto Thelma, including at a group, but she didn’t get it. The show wasn’t even popular when she left!
But she’d take it as a compliment. All that was missing was a pearl necklace.
“I bow to your beauty,” Gretchen said with confidence, but her stance suggested she was still flustered by how graceful Thelma moved in one of Irene’s hand-stitched A-line dresses. “You’re gorgeous.”
“It’s official. I have a crush.” Charity held up the other clothes she had brought from the back. “Shall we even bother?”
Thelma stopped in front of a full-length mirror. To everyone in the shop, she merely looked like herself.To everyone out there…She glanced out the window at a woman passing by wearing sweatpants and a tank top.I’m something else entirely.
Gretchen came up behind her. Delectable chills ran down Thelma’s spine.
“Damn, girl,” she whispered. “Don’t make me ask you out twice.”
Something about those words stung Thelma right in the guilty heart.Bill said almost the same thing the third time we met.She had turned him down once, consumed with thoughts of Sandy, who had just kissed her like the sun would shine forever. Yet here was a decent man with a future ahead of him. A man who would take care of her, a woman who would have floundered had she tried to face the world with Sandy.
“You can, if you want.”
Thelma added a teasing tone to her words, but inside, she crumbled. Here she was, reenacting something the earth hadn’t seen in nearly seventy years.
