Threshold
A Monday's Child Fashion
This is about tissue paper and stick pins;
what my mother taught me;
what I am doing;
and what I am not.
I owe it to The Wonder Habit™ with D. Michele Perry for inspiring me to return to writing and creating a new compilation of art; finding things of wonder in my past, and bringing some of those things forward into the light.
Summer of Wonder Prompts
It is Thursday. The day of the week I practice being grounded. I call it walking in my true identity. It brings a remembrance of my Aunt Alice saying, “Ginger.” Spoken in her Kansan drawl, I am immediately invoked by a sensation of being grounded, reminded of who I am: to her, to life, to God, all together and all at once.
This post is the first post of the Summer of Wonder writing/art/creative prompts: Threshold. When the question was posed as to which threshold I am standing before in my heart, my life, or creative practice - I knew I needed to dig in and dig deep.
This past year I ghosted myself. Frankly, I believe it was the result of residual grief of loss that I had not truly acknowledged. I found myself walking the path of the grief cycle. And, I needed to hide in my comfortable but miserable rabbit burrow again.
In paraphrasing C.S. Lewis from A Grief Observed, he says you can only move on when you accept there is no going back. And that is where I have come to. The point of no return is my point of arrival. But, I see there is a threshold that stands in the way.
Something has changed forever with this new acceptance. A new perspective about life constructing in my psyche. I stand still and think. A change in perspective can lead to great leaps in understanding and how we approach life challenges.1 But I have questions:
Is there fear?
What happens in crossing this threshold?
Is this a new beginning or a way back?
Before Point of Arrival. Kierkegaard’s famous quote: ‘life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards’ is my alibi for the past twelve months. I could not bear writing in my journal. The paints and paint brushes I placed in a cabinet alongside the half finished equine portrait. The music folders followed suit. Another locked cabinet. The mini grand piano, rescued from years of storage, draped by a gray sheet waiting in silence.
What went on in my rabbit burrow? I played MonopolyGo! with my grandchildren like clockwork daily. I did all the irresponsible things I never allow myself to do: wasting time, playing on apps for hours, watching mystery series - all 14 seasons with 8 episodes each - then starting the next series of multiple seasons, looking at my reflection in the mirror and wondering “What has happened to you?” “Are you planning on becoming a paranormal expert or a mystery writer?” Seriously. And I did this until I could do no more ‘fun’.
"Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." - C.S. Lewis2
Stepping outside the box. The loss created an emptiness that beckons to be filled. This new perspective is demanding, chasing me down the hall of my imagination. I see doors to my right and left. The doors have plaques, all except the last door standing at the far end in the center. As I pass down the hallway, I read - ‘Entitlement’, ‘Forgetfulness’, ‘Virtual Reality’, ‘Academia’, ‘Gossip Circle’, ‘Free Drinks’, ‘24/7 Movie Theatre’, ‘Dating Apps’, ‘Amazon Prime Unlimited’ and more of the same.
I stand in front of the last door. It has no plaque. There is a key holder beside the door on which hangs one golden key. I take the key and place it in the lock. The door opens almost by itself. As the door swings open, I look across the threshold to see a path winding into the distance. I see a signpost beside the path with words written on it in gold letters. I read the words and know them to be true. The words have worked for me these past forty years and for millions of others worldwide.3
Timepieces. For many of my adult years, I stayed (or thought I did) the same age. However, turning 60 and writing about my 4th Turning: Artist/Chaos I became aware of my own aging and a timeclock that unwinds. Surprise!
Threshold
I stand on the shoulders of an expert, a Kansas State Champion seamstress, tailor, and spokesperson for home arts, my mother Irene Landenberger Stockwell. She taught me everything I needed to know to start sewing and designing my own clothes. She was a designer and tailor of men’s’ suits, womens evening wear, summer dresses, knits, children’s wear, and swimwear. There was not a style of clothing she could not produce. She had designed and created her own tailored suits and cowgirl shirts with contrasting yokes and pearl snap buttons by 18 years old.
Many afternoons I sat and watched my mother pinning the brown tissue pattern paper to material of a new outfit for a family member. She hand-sewed the tailor tacks with bright colored thread holding the material sections together, followed by the special zigzag-edged pattern shears, cutting out each piece carefully and precisely to avoid the glass head stick pins. Her love for sewing and attention to detail was mesmerizing. My mother designed and created all our performance outfits for the family musical group including my father’s tuxedos.
I love sewing like my mother before me and grandmother before her. When I moved to Ferndale, California to start a family, I worked in several art galleries in the town. Inspired by other artists and their ‘can-do-attitudes’ I converted our Victorian home’s attic into a fully functional sewing room and design studio. My husband at that time was basically non-existent, an extreme outdoors enthusiast, so I created in my space and found my fit.
In 1994, I began designing updated Victorian fashions for women. The designs were created as a slimming and lengthening style of fashion, to flatter the shorter of us with flowing fabric form and ultra-feminine tucks and touches.
Some wish for roses and chocolates, but as for me,
I wish for stick pins and brown tissue pattern paper.
I created layered cotton dresses with ribbon and frockery, of muted creams or light tan muslin; fitted midi dresses with tailored waistcoat jackets in retro watercolor floral prints or delicate rosebuds; all with old button embellishments and candlewick embroidery accents. As an afterthought, a fashionable and comfortable Victorian cloak.
Each designer outfit was a one-of-a kind fashion accompanied by my special handmade labels inserted either at the nape of inside sleeve of the design. The maker’s label patch included a scripture or poetic verse befitting the design name. The designs fit women size 4-16. My clothing outlets were via The Ferndale Clothing Co. and The Candystick Galley.
This is the threshold to Monday’s Child Fashion Designs.
Psychology Today. (https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/understanding-hypnosis/202307/new-perspectives-can-improve-your-life)
C.S. Lewis, The Wonder Years
Retold from personal experience, from Alcoholics Anonymous