Wear your overalls

August 22, 2008 Lobstervine Web Design

I learned how to sew in seventh grade. Under the watchful, if not cranky eye, of Mrs. Jacobs, our seventh grade home economics teacher, we spent months sitting at Singer sewing machines, learning the fine points of threading a machine, sewing a dart, hemming, stitching and basting. We learned how to lay out a pattern, pinning it oh so carefully to the fabric so as to not make a mistake once we began to cut. Zippers, buttons and elastic waistbands were practiced to perfection. At the end of the year, to the tempered applause of our proud parents and classmates, we strode down the runway wearing our creations, mine a reversible blue and red square necked jumper that buttoned down the front. My mother was a sewer. She had an old brown Singer sitting in her office. Late at night, after we had gone to bed, she spent hours creating outfits for the four of us. Matching outfits for Easter and Christmas and special events. It started innocently enough. Butterflies embroidered on a white pinafore, matching vests for the boys and little red and white dresses with contrasting Peter Pan collars for the girls which we wore for family photos and holiday dinners. And it was cute. Sort of.

And sometimes it was down right embarrassing.

I was reminded of those days by this poignant story that was shared by one of my writers in our group this week.

“My grandmother created an outfit that I later learned would be a part of American history. She was trying to launch her own clothing business and I was the unofficial mannequin. She would dress me in her creations and send me out into the world to model her handiwork.

For my first day of kindergarten, she made me a pair of overalls from an American flag. It was the flag that my great grandfather, in recognition of his military service, had received on the day he was buried.

I was just as dark as I am now. My hair was in an afro and in order to tend to my dry skin, she covered my face, arms and legs in Vaseline. I wore no socks. My shoes were a rust color brown.

I heard a kid say “he looks like a Black Flag” and everyone laughed because we all knew that if you had roaches in your house you were bound to have a can of Black Flag somewhere.

I think it was one of the worst days of my childhood.”

In fourth grade I wore a pair of overalls to the school safety patrol picnic. Not American flag overalls, handmade by a loving grandmother, but plain, ordinary, blue jean overalls that my mother had bought for me at my request. I loved those overalls. I still do. But on that particular day, for whatever reason, the rest of the kids thought they were the worst possible fashion choice I could have made. And they laughed at me. A lot.

I remember going home that day, my feelings shattered by my classmates’ laughter. When he shared his overall story, I got it, loud and clear.

But there is another side to the story. Grandmother, it turns out, was ahead of her time. Flag clothing, home décor, back packs and accessories became a huge fashion statement just a few years later. As did overalls, it turns out.

Sometimes, we have to take a risk. Sometimes, we have to listen to our heart. We cannot be afraid to show the world who we really are.

Sometimes, we have to wear our overalls.