For the Love of Clothes
- For the Love of Clothes
I’m not sure I was sincere when I wroteto my dead friend’s husband this morningthat I felt nestled in his late wife’s arms
as I sat propped in bed wearingher beautiful periwinkle cardigan, the cardiganhe insisted I take yesterday when he invited
me over to go through her things.The truth is I’m thrilled to call that sweatermy own. Also the broomstick skirt
of vibrant blues and greens, a skirtmy friend and I had both seen in a windowa few years back and she got the only one
in our size. Also her soft, pastel scarves,and that two-piece silk with the spraysof orange flowers she found in Paris.
I know it cost a fortune, and now, at last,I have something perfect for summerweddings. Not to mention the blue glass
earrings. I’m almost ashamed of the joythat filters through me when I hold themto the light. I have to wonder if
I would trade these gorgeous things—I forgot the stunning blue wool poncho—for my friend to be alive again? Of course [End Page 640]
I would. Who wouldn’t? After all, they’re justclothes. But if you must know, I don’t relishthe idea of her returning to rummage
my closet for her heavenly blues—oh, shewould do it so gently, so graciously, that’swho she was—then packing them into her car.
Would I try to hide the broomstick skirt? Slipthe earrings in a pocket? Would she even missthe silver pin with the round blue stone? [End Page 641]
dannye romine powell is the author of four poetry collections, most recently Nobody Calls Me Darling Anymore. She has received fellowships in poetry from the National Endowment for the Arts and the North Carolina Arts Council. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she writes about books for the Charlotte Observer.
