My Grandmother's Closet

I live outside of a rather small town in Texas. I used to love to drive, in fact was fairly proud of my ability to handle the stick shift. But somewhere in my early 40's the idea of automatic transmissions began to sound like a necessary luxury. Then the 50's hit, and I really began to enjoy being driven as opposed to doing the driving myself. So things change.

I've always loved to shop. I attribute this affinity to the trips my grandmother took me on as a child. There were no problems, just two ladies on a quest for that perfect treasure. And as with the driving, my desire to stroll the aisles of retailers and waiting in long lines to check out has substantially diminished also. Then voila'!!! The internet.

I believe I may have honed the fine art of shopping to a new level with the use of my handy laptop and the internet. I have recently moved into my forever house and I am moving quite slowly with renovations due to a drawn out legal situation. So I spend more time with my imagination engaged than actually slinging a hammer. When I become enamored of a specific item, these days I shop on the net until I zero in on the perfect solution. But over time I have begun to notice a strange behavior. I seem to be saving some things for some future more perfect time. My poor little closet is quite full and the treasures to be found there are amazing to me.

Now I suppose there are women in this world that commonly stash their fancy threads, beautiful boxes with gemstones and precious metals and other miscellaneous treasures in their closet. So I sat down one afternoon and thought about this odd behavior and one single thought came clearly into my mind. The mystery and the lure of my grandmother's closet.

Whenever we'd embark upon a shopping spree, my grandmother would allow me to sit in this little wooden rocking chair with an embroidered seat, right next to her vanity. She had Coty face powder in a little round box, whereby she would powder her nose and put on her lipstick. Then she would go to the closet. On the top shelf, (which was really high up back then), she had hat boxes. I would stare at them mesmerized with wonder at what amazing things they might hold. She would choose one and out would come this little hair piece, she called her wiglet. She would place this carefully on the crown of her head with hair pins, and then return the empty hat box back to the closet.

I remember that closet. It was dark and had wooden planks on the floor and on the walls. It was full of strange smells and odd textures, wonderful old coats and of course, her dresses. She would change from her house dress and put on her "going out" dress. She might be horrified if she knew I told this, but she always wore nylon hose, and old fashioned single pair kind. The wierd thing is she would roll them up or down her legs, depending on the situation. In the evening after everything of the day was done, she'd always watch Ed McMahan on the tonight show. She wasn't terribly concerned with Johnny, but she loved her Ed McMahan. This is when she'd roll down those nylons below her knees and relax. However funny it sounds, she did this with the upmost of elegance and grace. My grandmother was a woman of certain intent and quality.

I suppose now that I am old, I am still thinking about my grandmother and her closet. Maybe that's why I am so obsessed with mine. At least I like to think so. I'm just so much more Zen these days. I've begun to take out these treasures and use them. I don't know what I was waiting for. There may never come that perfect time when everything is in its place. So in the meantime I will try to make full use of anything I've got squirreled away in my closet, but I bet that I will find myself carefully placing something in a pretty hat box from time to time. I just can't seem to help it.