dress-up...

Descended from people who loved to dress up and party, my mother could work magic with cardboard and a little paint. When she and my father needed a costume for some event, Dorothy opened the studio closet and pulled wonders from within: feathers and buttons and sequins, bits of suede and velvet, glitter and foil and many other things that sparkled.

Then she closed the studio door and went to work. Once she made a pair of huge ‘African’ masks. Another time, elaborate costumes that involved my father wearing a sort of bra rigged from silver bullet lights. The crowns, lined with cotton batting dotted with black paint to resemble ermine, were made of cardboard painted gold and decorated with buttons, rhinestones and neat rows of Cheerios.

My father, who was not a dress-up kind of guy in any sense of the word, was a good sport and went along with these madcap creations, standing by smiling as my mother accepted her accolades and relished the spotlight. I think these were some of the moments when she was really, truly happy.

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