Spirit of a dress

I thoroughly believe that objects, buildings, and things we find in nature can have either organic or aggregate spirits. The ladder especially applies to things that people create: clothing especially if made with natural fiber, glass and ceramic pieces, wooden furniture, buildings. Metal and gemstone jewelry, leather goods, and artwork also do this. The spirit of the creator, the energy of the materials, and the experiences that object goes through, create sentience. For instance my old college dorms, which were active for 50 years, probably had massive, well developed personalities thanks to thousands of students and visitors, many of them there for long periods of time. It’s really tragic in my mind that no one took last pictures or created a memorial archive of stories from people who lived in those dorm towers before they were demolished. I’m trying to do something in a smaller way for a much more personal object.

Part of how I self identify is usually wearing a dress or a skirt and top combination. Many dresses and skirts come and go. I wear them out or I resell them because they didn’t work for me or I was just over them stylistically. A few stand out. A sleeveless sweater dress I had for a few years, had a really beautiful ivory and black snake print and a full skirt without any annoying seam at the waist. I wore this until it developed a very strange white stain that we couldn’t get rid of. I was sad to see it go. Another that I wish I could have memorialized but was actually stolen was a short sleeved oatmeal sweater dress, with a skater silhouette and brown button appliqué. I meant last summer to create a photo shoot with it before retiring it as the buttons were coming unstitched. But someone took it from the dryer. There have been others. The oldest, and the one most deserving of memorialization, I purchased in the spring of 2010 from Lane Bryant. It had a beautiful floral print, a relaxed waist, long skirt, and a double layered bodice giving a graceful layered texture in the front. This dress was with me through multiple moves, service trips in college, parties, moments when my life collapsed or dramatically shifted. I started noticing signs of where seven or eight years ago and decided to cut back on how often I wore it to preserve it. Last year I took a photo of it folded up with a note card giving the date I bought it approximately, and then the date of the photograph. A series of things are about to happen to this dress, which feels like a friend, feels like it has its own spirit, but feels like something that has reached the end of its life cycle. I’m going to take one last photo wearing the dress, with full hair and makeup, even though the dress is clearly falling apart. A piece of the dress will be cut out to be framed on my aesthetic archive shelf. And then the dress is being cut up into ribbons and turned into a crocheted basket. There is an actual grieving process for me with this. But I am trying my best to translate the memory and the energy of this dress into something that still lives beyond its original purpose. This has seen multiple versions of me, and it has all of those contained within it, from festivals and shopping days to days when I was really sick, to days when I was working for good or just having a good time. It has seen beer spills, paint splatters, endless crumbs, dirt and blood, long bus rides on hot summer days. Yet it always made me feel like I looked great. I didn’t decide to completely take it out of rotation until I noticed one of the shoulder straps was coming apart. Not when the little bead that kept part of the front weightted so it folded down disappeared. Not when I noticed minor separation in the seams under the arms. So now it gets a new job, a new life cycle, because the one thing that this dress does not deserve is being discarded. I’m not going to discard a dress that felt so light on hot summer days, that looked amazing when I wore my hair down my back, the summer sun turning it red. It had a soft silhouette and a skirt that actually moved with your body, and got me so many compliments. Sometimes the things we own integrate into who we are to a point where they are no longer just possessions. They become complex pieces of us and everything we’ve been through, and I belive their next life should honor that.