Wednesday, 9 October 2013

In Which I Turn Fashion Blogger

There is more to this photo than a tastefully rendered in black and white image of me with my boob out.

In 1983 my family moved abroad. My Dad went on ahead to learn the language and get trained up  leaving my Mum to take my two sisters and me half-way round the world all by herself. Two seven-year-olds and a-nine-year-old.

The journey entailed a long haul flight, a night spent in Delhi airport and then another flight within the continent.

Much like the von Trapp family we were dressed in matching traveling outfits - in our case rather than pulling down the curtains we went for blue and white stripy dungarees.

All of us.

Including my Mum.

The rationale was that should one of us go astray she could point at another child and say that the child she was missing looks like that one. Being a twin I was quite use to being dressed like someone else, and it wasn't the first time my older sister had muscled in on the act - who can forget the velvet-dress debacle of Christmas '81? But my Mum joining in was novel indeed, and one that was never repeated.

I didn't think much about it at the time. It was only years later when I remembered the journey it struck me as a little odd. The four of us in matching jumpsuits. I mean who would do a thing like that?

Last month I went to a wedding. I hadn't been sure whether I would be able to make it prior to giving birth as, if Olive had arrived late, she could potentially only have been two or three weeks old. As it was she came early so was a robust eight-week-old.

The issue was I hadn't bought an outfit prior to giving birth and once I'd had the kid I didn't have the opportunity to buy myself a new frock. I rifled through my wardrobe to see what I could wear and drew a blank. Until my old mucker Caroline No (lifestyle blogger extraordinaire) gave Olive a pair of purple dungarees, telling me she bought them because I had a matching jump suit.

Well, suddenly there was no question about what I would wear to the wedding.

Olive and I in our matching jump suits (and her close up):




But that isn't all. Olive also wore a bespoke vest. On the front, a caveat in case she ruined the marriage service by screaming (not my idea, thank the womb-mate for this - it says I always cry at weddings):

And on the back to commemorate the happy couple:

They will be getting this once-worn vest if they have a kid, and judging by the attention Olive got from the both the mothers of the bride and the groom they will be under a lot of pressure to procreate, and fast.

They say that being a mother yourself gives you a new insight into how your own mother behaved.

I totally get the matching dungarees now.



4 comments:

  1. AW I sort of LOVE that!!! Mommy and daughter, total fashion plates!

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  2. I have no memory of the matching outfits for that flight in '83. All I remember is you throwing orange juice over the smartly dressed business man sitting next to us.

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  3. I 'accidentally' dress Alice and myself in matching outfits all the time. We may or may not arrive in matching outfits when we meet you later...

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