Vibrant Nation

It wasn’t A dress per say…it was a dress and the new wardrobe that I had to acquire. I had been in a very bad destructive marriage for 31 years. Thirty-one years of hell that had made me believe that I was worth nothing and had sent me into a depression and using food as my drug of choice…I ended up weighing 408 lbs.

One day when my heart Dr. looked me in the eyes and said…”you WILL be dead in 6-9 months if you don’t lose this weight and do it fast.” just happened to be on a day that I cared if I lived or died. So I did something I said I NEVER would. I had a gastric-by-pass and went from the 408 down to 175 in less than a year. YES I did live past that 9 month death date.(that was 2001) The day before my surgery my son took a photo of me in my normal muumuu dress. I looked horrid and the smile on my face wasn’t because I was happy it was because my son is very good at telling jokes and then snapping your photo. That was THE DRESS.

The day I had to start collecting smaller clothes, jeans, pretty skirts and blouses, dresses that didn’t look like Omar the tent maker had made them was the days I started valuing myself enough to say ENOUGH. I ended the marriage and was NEVER going to trust a man that much again. LOL LOL life doesn’t work the way we think it will. I met and trusted a new wonderful man enough to marry him and we have been happily married for 4 ½ years now. Which, I guess, leads us to the other dress that changed my life forever… the white western blouse and skirt, along with my bare feet, I wore on my wedding day….

It was a blue sweater dress that showed off my figure to the utmost.   The funny thing about it was I didn't realize the affect it was having until AFTER my first date with my now ex.  He relayed to me one evening how I looked in that dress and the fact that I hadn't really noticed him until he asked me out - as we had worked for the same company.  The day he first saw me in that dress I was complaining to his supervisor about a book (of which I don't remember) that she and I had both read.  He was sitting at her desk waiting for instructions to start his day.  After my first encounter with him, his supervisor suggested he and I go out together for lunch.

It was a year later that my ex first told me about that dress.  It was also when I realized I was really in love with this man who had not only paid so much attention to me but who could also describe - in detail - how I looked when we first met.  It is just one of the many standards that any man who wants to date me must pass.  No other man has ever been able to pass that test.  When asked after only a few days - most of them say:  You were wearing something or you had something on - but they can't be specific like he was.  One man said to me:  You were dressed in such a way that I KNEW you weren't "high-maintenance."  I was insulted by that because - in my opinion - he was saying he felt he didn't have to make too much of an effort to date or be with me. 

I still have the dress but don't wear it because my body has changed so drastically over the years.  I don't know why I still have the dress as I can't wear it.

Clothes can transform you into some one that you imagine or to some one you become. I frequently wear black  because I like it. I also wear white with black because it gives me confidence.

When I was a teenager, I was a withdrawn, unpopular grey mouse. At age 16 I sat down to perform a piano recital in the high school auditorium. "Hey, Boney Maroney, where'd you get that haircut?" two boys behind the stage remarked snidely before I walked out. I sat down to play and blanked out completely. I hated the way I looked so much I wanted to crawl in a black hole and  disappear.

One year later, it was graduation time and my birthday, so I went shopping for a dress. It must have been my Guardian Angel who made me try on a red dress. I looked in the mirror and had an epiphany. I knew in that moment that this was the person I had been born to be, and that I would never be a grey mouse again.

I spent my hard-earned baby-sitting money on a haircut and lea red how to apply makeup.  For the first time I my life, people told me I was pretty. Armed with courage, I went to Washington, DC and enrolled in a two-year fashion/modeling school and soon became one of the top models in DC. It all began with a red dress that gave me courage and revealed the Me I was born to be.

Sandy Dumont

It was a black knee-length dress with a very low scoop back trimmed in rhinestones. It was very form-fitting. I was a newly-divorced single mom exploring the dating scene and accompanying a beautiful younger man to a high-profile wedding in Chicago. I looked great - probably the best I'd looked in my entire life and I had many admirers that evening. And, I thought I loved this guy I was with - he was handsome, smart, and interesting. But, I had children. He didn't. And, until someone asked if I was his wife and he replied adamantly "Oh, no!" in a voice and demeanor that told me he was definitely NOT in love with me, I thought he was the "one." I knew I deserved better than being arm candy at a high event. I made small talk at the table but took the first opportunity I could to depart. I retreated to the ladies room where (after I cried) I stayed until the event was over. I never saw him again after that weekend and ended up marrying a man who loves me and my kids for who I really am (and after 18 years, I don't quite look like I did in that skinny size 4 dress - I'm more like a size 12 now). That black dress gave me the courage to look reality in the eye. No matter how sexy or beautiful I was, it couldn't make something be true that wasn't.

It was 1973 and I was 20 yrs. old. Little did I know that the man I was about to meet would eventually become my husband. I wore "hot pants", sheer stockings and high heels. My husband claims that he knew that I "was the one" the moment he laid eyes on me. Now I'm sure the 118 lbs, long legs and long blond hair didn't hurt but after 34 yrs. of marriage my husband still talks about those "hot pants". Today I'm no longer the skinny, long legged blond that I once was but my darling hubbie still treats me like I'm the most beautiful women alive.

It really wasn't about the clothes at all. I was always thin. My now ex thought I was fat and never lost a day telling me. I lost more weight and started working out with weights. Younger (very young) men started looking at me and he didn't like that one bit. He still found something to criticize. It was then I realized it wasn't the clothes or the weight or ME. It was him. We divorced soon after and then after age 40 I really blossomed.

I was wearing a white cotton wrap around dress the day I met my husband. I was  bartending and he came in to get a drink and check the schedule as he was a bouncer there. He asked me out that very day and told me later he thought I looked like an angel in that dress. We were married two months later and that was nearly 25 years ago. He still looks at me the same way he looked at me the day we met when I was only 27 years old. I don't know if I had been wearing something different that day if everything would have turned out as wonderful as it did but I will always be grateful for the gift that dress gave me.

For me it wasn't what I wore on the outside but the bra I finally gave into after a few years of shedding it for the Womans Liberation. In a way it was liberating to put it back on Due to I was pregnant and ready for the adult chapter in my life.All of a sudden the rock concerts and freedom marches I no longer wanted to attend Thinking my little baby would catch something. An my mothers words came to me when she said " The world is not going to be changed with a yell but with a whisper in a babies ear... RIP mom you were truly the liberated woman..

Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life!

thanks for sharing your story.  I've been divorced twice.  I'm now living with a wonderful man who supports, loves me and is there for me when necessary.  There's always a moment, a situation, a movie, a book...something that inspires us to be brave and speak the truth.  It's not easy but it take courage to do what you did...especially in NY.  Why do I say that....NY seems SO big and SO many people.  When I go I think how does anyone meet and aquire friends here because of the fast pace, no eye contact...busy busy busy...Have a wonderful Holiday.  Tamara

My first husband was a divorce lawyer and he left me when I was 35 for a young lawyer in his firm who was 25.  We were members of the country club and I was in the Junior League, all of this a life much different than the one than I have chosen now.  During the divorce, I was devastated, angry, hurt and upset and didn't eat and lost way too much weight.  My first "event" for the Junior League following my divorce being final in April, was in December.  I wore a beautiful burgundy velvet dress that hugged my newly replaced curves that came from eating again & exercising.  The dress had a sweetheart neckline and was very fitted, until the bottom where it flared out like a mermaid dress.  I had to walk like Morticia Adams, but I looked good and I knew it.  I wore my long dark hair up and had new earrings that I gave myself as a divorce present.  My date was a young man who had worked with me and was a body builder.  My father always said I wouldn't know a wild oat if it bit me in the face.  My date was much younger, and he was my wild oat.  That night at the party, everyone, male & female told me that I looked fabulous.  It was sort of my coming out party.  Divorcing a divorce lawyer had taken me almost 2 years from the time that I discovered the affair, so I was rising from the ashes with my self intact. The funny thing is I knew I looked good and I knew that the life that I had previously had with my husband didn't fit me anymore.  So I emerged from the shell of my former life and I changed the channel so to speak.  I have never looked back.   I finally donated the dress this year to the women's shelter.  I hope that another woman will wear it to her coming out party.

It wasn't a dress, it was the first time I put on my full dress blues and graduated from basic training.  Our TI was walking in front of us inspecting us and then he stood in front of us and told us how proud he was of each one of us.  That he would go into a foxhole with any of us knowing that he could put his life in our hands. We were at war ... Vietnam.  Some I graduated with headed there, the rest of us spread out all over where Air Force Bases were located.  Knowing these individuals, struggling through some changes in our lives, and emerging empowered to believe in our own abilities and the worth of being a team ... most of all that the women who stood at my side had learned the importance of integrity and honor.  The willingness to serve for the freedom of others, knowing it may mean our own lives ... it had even more meaning when I was able to add the humanitarian services medal for the babylift and evacuation of refugees. Later I wore it at my Father's funeral and that of other veterans to honor them.   Yes, the garment that I will always remember is my uniform.  I remember the flag, the breezes, and knowing we stood in my beloved country, a land of the free and I would stand up for liberty so others would know its power. 

Oh, I just remembered ... my Senior girl scout uniform as I stood in full dress with white gloves and all the awards as I looked into the eyes of the most handsome young man I ever met.  He was an Eagle Scout ready to induct my cousin.  I fell in love at first sight.  His Army uniform sealed the deal on my heart away a few years later.  though we went our separate ways after Vietnam, he became my second husband more than 20 years later... and for the moments we shared, I will always be grateful...

What a delightful little book. There were times I laughed and times I just smiled… I even got nostalgic more times than not. I have very little in common with Ms. Beckerman but then again I have so much in common. She was raised in the big city, teaming with people and fancy stores, I was raised in the country where I knew everyone by name and the fanciest store were J.C.Penny’s and Sears.

These little stories made me feel very much in common with her in many ways. I have older sisters, I had a mother who sewed clothing for me and most of all I have memories surrounding those clothes. Every one of her stories evoked a memory in me of my life. They were not exactly the same stories of course but it was a delightful trip down Ms. Beckerman’s life and a delightful trip down the memories in my own life.

This book has made me want to write my own version, not to sell to the world, so that my children and grand children will have the stories I have to share. Thank you Ms. Beckerman for the push and the stories.  You are a delight and if we were to ever meet I would feel it a blessing.

Fallen Catholic of a certain age here and I mention that as preface to a struggle that many women may recognize. Something in your conscience says something like this, "Material things are spiritual adictions. Learn to live and love without needing them."  Certainly, there is something to be said for learning not to use relationships and emotions to acquire stuff.  We shouldn't want objects more than we want a person, but that should be differentiated from the ways in which the right things, the right stuff, the right possessions can, indeed, satisfy in such a way as to free one, even from the possession of something in itself, to grow beyond whatever is driving the need. I don't fight that struggle so much anymore. Now my questions are about "what is the right thing? How can I recognize what makes something right for me and not just another iteration of old mistakes about possessions?"

I love it that yours was so similar!  Mine was a black with white patterns Diane Von Furstenburg wrap-around dress, purchased by my Mom from a thrift shop in the early '70's.  It was the perfect little black dress variation with a punch --- jersey curve hugging to the hips and flared to just below the knees.  And it was perfect to roll in a suitcase --- it saw many cities and several countries in the '70's and '80's.  Add some strappy Rayne heels and I felt so elegant!  I brought the dress out of its plastic in the 2000's for my daughter.  She thinks a vintage DVF is awesome, and it looks wonderful on her!  It will be hers soon.  Yes, it still fits, and I've worn it once or twice, but ... it was the time, the company, the view of self. 

Now I still love clothes and putting together outfits I think have flair.  It's so true that we feel different in heels and slippers, jeans and dresses!  At this age, though, I find that it's the sheath of muscle under the clothes that makes me feel vibrant and alive.  I didn't get fit until my late 40's, then let it drop a couple of years ago.  So, its back to working out and being buff again --- and shaking the bulge that's come back --- and feeling good in my somewhat wrinked skin! 

My hat is off to the ladies who have stayed married all those years, and can still glow about it!  One 17-year marriage and one 3 1/2 year relationship later, I think my choices aren't that great (I seem to allow emotionally demeaning partners -- ugh!). So, I'm starting to conclude that I'm happier when it's just me, wearing anything at all --- but I'll keep an eye out for that dress for my mid 50's! ;^) 

I'm so glad I found this thread, although I see it started a couple of months ago.

My eldest son's wedding was a difficult day for me.  My ex had recently remarried, and I wasn't dating so decided to go solo to the wedding.   And put on a face a smile all day long, because it was my son's day!

I wore a simple suit to the actual wedding, but for the rehearsal dinner I simply lucked out, and my friend brought over a vintage 2 pce. black sparkly thing, to see if it would do.

ah.......it fit me like a glove.  the skirt was long, slit up the leg, and hugged my curves with a slight flare around the hem line.  the top was a boat neck, sleeveless, with that wonderful little flare at the waist.  

I felt great, and looked awesome.  It wasn't until the toasts were being made that I received two of most wonderful compliments of my life.   The best man had assumed all day that I was my son's sister!  And said so during the toast.  awesome.

And there was a special dance for the groom and his mother, and my son said, Mom, your class is shining through today, and I love you for it.

So yes, the dress made the day, I looked glamorous and classy, and felt so confident.   I wore vintage to my 2nd son's wedding as well.  Another story for another day.

It was a luxurious, soft, brown suede jacket, expensive. I'd been in a bad 17 year marriage. My husband got angry every time I bought an item of clothing for myself. All I remember from those years is anger. When I saw the jacket, it was love at first sight, but I was immediately flooded with guilt and fear. Then I realized there was no longer a reason to have those emotions. I was free to do whatever I wanted. I bought the jacket. It's 22 years old; the suede is worn, but it still hangs in my closet as a symbol of freedom.