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Several years ago I had a lovely second grader who had just been chosen to be Betsy Ross in a school play that her class was going to perform. Now this child, Tawnia, was a very pretty--though not terribly graceful--child, but unfortunately she had not had a terribly successful first year. We had just moved, and Tawnia was missing her old friends. She was feeling very down because she didn't feel attractive to new friends.
Realizing what the opportunity of being chosen for this special grand lady part could be to Tawnia, I decided that I would make her the most elegant dress my designers flair could create, thus, hoping the attention she would gain from being so lovely and so honored would help her excel, not only in the play, but in her feelings toward herself. I spent tremendous time looking and planning. I had gold in mind--rich velvet and satin, but unfortunately I could not find the proper contrast in those shades. I did, however, find a brushed fleece in a brilliant rose. Lighter in weight than velvet and washable convinced me that was the way to go . I mated this pervasive color with a very gracious pink. The contrast was striking. The waist line dipped down in a "V" slightly over the tummy and the peplum gathered laterally so that it drew up in the back like an apron. I added finishing touches of double edged lace with an embroidered center on every border-- neck, sleeve, and peplum. The style was extremely flattering for one so young Yes, I was satisfied. It was beautiful.
Next I added accessories for finishing touches. I found a matching hairpiece the shade of the child's hair so that her own hair could fall in a lovely side curl while the hairpiece stood high on her head in a most fashionable manner. The only thing that wasn't absolutely perfect was the neckline . . . just slightly large for one so young, and it didn't lay quite as flat as I desired, but with such an appropriate hairstyle and the added pearl necklace, it was more than passable. Yes, the whole attire was even applaudable. Before the night was over more than one told me she was the most elegant second grader they had ever seen. Of course, I had eyes for no one but her as she performed her minuet. In my unbiased mother's opinion--and some other's who voiced the same--Tawnia stole the show.
Tawnia wore this pink dress many times at evening church services or district conferences--once even to a wedding reception. It became a favorite in the house. Un-be known to me at that time, I had another child two years behind who had also set her heart on that lovely pink dress and was biding her time until it became hers. This child, Lori, also a lovely child was not really like the Tawnia in personality, and somehow this dress never seemed to feel quite right in her closet even though it ended up there. Then, as fate plays tricks on us, this child ended up in the same second grade class situation, a school class program even bigger and better because they were celebrating the history of the bi-centennial year. The same teacher was in charge, the same story was to be told, and every girl in class desired to be the same Betsy Ross part.
Now it has been my experience that it is not good for any one member of a family to walk in the shadow of the older, but I didn't express myself until I learned that two little girls in Lori's class had the same desire to be Betsy Ross and had begun to compare ideas about it. One comment from my child was, "Well, I should have the part because we have the costume already made." Since costuming was a problem, the teacher probably would have gone along with this line of thinking, and this begin the bicentennial year, it would be nice to have a head start on the costuming, especially one as nice as the pink dress. Well, I pondered this in my heart for several days. It just didn't feel right--something seemed wrong.
I gathered my courage together and visited the author of the idea--her teacher. In the course of the conversation, I put across my feeling that I didn't think this a healthy situation, and that I would volunteer to make two more dresses equally elegant if they could cast the parts of Dolly Madison, Martha Washington and Betsy Ross. This would remove the competition between children since the third lady would eliminate the obvious attempt to revolve the competition between the two. In the discussion, I was asked for ideas that might lend a little more color and excitement to the program. In brainstorming fashion, I rattled off several including the idea to have a flapper. The teacher bit onto the idea like a bulldog into a steak. She really wanted something different than what she had every year and did not want to increase to three lovely ladies even though I was willing to costume them. She wanted something with a little flash and the flapper idea logged permanently in her desire. She wanted my child to be the flapper since I was willing to make a costume, and she promised to replace the minuet dance time with time for the flapper to perform. I honestly didn't know how my child would react to this new idea. I was afraid she would feel like her dream was being pulled out from under her. I didn't want that. The teacher suggested we let Lori choose.
First, Lori was told what a flapper is and does, and then she was given a weekend to think about it. I left the matter totally between her and her teacher since I didn't want to influence her in any way. I didn't know her decision until almost a week later. Lori had chosen to be the flapper, and let the other girl could be that beautiful lady. My brain then went into motion again. Since she was forced to make the decision herself, I must be absolutely sure that she would never regret giving her coveted part to the other girl, thus forfeiting the pride of wearing the pink dress. This was extremely charitable for one so young. Then too, we had to learn to do the flapper.
Well, we started swinging ankles every night and much to my surprise the Charleston is not an easy thing for a second grader, even and extremely well-coordinated one. We worked hours every day, just swinging ankles. We then visited fabric centers for just those "right" materials. The choice was Moroccan Blue shinny crepe with red "3" fringe at the top and white "4" fringe in a double row at the bottom. Yes, it was striking and every little girl loves swish of nylon fringe. We were in business.
In my travels through fabric shops, I saw some other materials which would add to the play, so I picked a few up to donate to the cause. When I went to deliver them to the teacher, I found I was in a position I didn't know how to get out of. I had volunteered to make the extra two dresses to get my child out of a dilemma. The teacher assumed, since she no longer needed those dresses, my offer was good for making some of the other costumes. She wanted me to spend the sewing time making kits for the other mother's to sew up--costumes for everybody. I politely informed her that I worked on such a small budget that I couldn't possible furnish kits for other mother's. Since I recycled my own scraps to use for the costumes, I assured her it would just be easier to do the sewing myself. The next time I touched base with the teacher, she handed me the list. To my horror, I discovered that what I didn't know was that two classes had joined for the program this year, a total of 52 instead of just the 26 in my Lori's class. I swallowed very hard at the idea of making 52 costumes in three weeks. I must admit I felt a little weak as I returned home and told my husband what I had volunteered to do. He smiled and said, "Well, you had better get busy." I started that night attacking out-growns for buttons, zippers, and trim.
This challenge was really my kind of thing. I had always been able to make "something out of nothing" as the saying goes, so I began remodeling skirts, jumpers, pants, and anything the right color that could be recut in order to eliminate cost of such a project. I truly believe at this point that both teachers felt I would just head up a committee to use as many of the mothers as possible in the undertaking, but not knowing the mothers or their sewing and being forced to do this out of recycled scrap pieces, I didn't want to waste my time trying to explain how to get the designs from my head out of the hand me down garments. That to me seemed worse than doing it myself, so I just set my mind to the task and sewed, and sewed, and sewed, and sewed. The worst part really was that Easter hit right in the middle of it all, and I had to interrupt my costume sewing to put together the things I had promised my own children for Easter. Anyway, I somehow manage to get through it all. Much of my work wasn't up to the quality I preferred, but crooked seams don't show up on the stage, and the praise from the teachers and children made it all seem worthwhile. Everybody seemed delighted with what I was bringing in a few at a time, and by the day of the dress rehearsal the costume rack was full.
There were two costumes I was told I didn't have to furnish--an Indian and Dolly Madison, and off course, the pink dress for Betsy Ross was already made. It was really fun to see the color and designs come to life as the children began to costume themselves. The costume my Lori was wearing seemed to be the favorite. All her friends wanted to touch her feather stole and watch her swish the fringe on her costume. She had mastered the flapper step in a way that won everyone who watched her.
As the costume rack began to empty, it became apparent that the Dolly Madison costume which had been volunteered had not arrived. There stood one chubby little girl on dress rehearsal day without a costume. I must admit, she acted as if she could care less. She said, "Where's my costume." I said, "I didn't make one for you. Another mother was supposed to make one, but it's not here." The little girl went right on pestering and poking everyone in the room. No sad eyes, no quiver of the lip--nothing. I carried the image of this chubby little girl home with me that night. She was an unappealing child--very short, glasses with black rims, not very clean. I knew I could find something in the closet for her since my little girls had several long dress that she could wear. Any old dress should do for her, I thought. A regular dress would not be outstandingly pretty, but she'd probably never even notice with her personality. I wondered if she had ever worn a dress.
I went through the major part of the evening performing the tasks which seem to be piled up and neglected in favor of the sewing, and it was really quite late when I found myself down in the fabric box looking to see if there were any pretty scrape left which could be quickly sewn into a pretty dress for a chubby little girl. I found a piece of purple nylon velveteen left from a chair I had once upholstered for my bedroom and a piece of lighter lavender chiffon I had used in one of my girl's dresses. The velveteen was much too heavy for the chiffon, but the colors were right, so I set to work lining the chiffon. It was very late--actually very early-- in the morning when I finished. I had only guessed at the measurements but after 50 sewing costume, I was sure I was close. At that late hour it was hard to care, and I fell in bed for a few hours relieved that at last--three solid weeks, eight hours a day or more--the costumes were all done. I hadn't missed or cheated anyone, even that despicable little girl. And all that effort just to revolve my child's wearing of that pink dress.
The excitement ran high in the classroom the next day as I entered with the latest addition to the costume rack. I helped first this one and then that one, and finally the purple dress went to the little chubby girl. She never smiled or said thank you or had any reaction at all. She just put it on without any expression at all. I didn't have time to give it another thought until I felt a little tug at my sleeve, and the little girl next to me said, "What shall I were for shoes?" I looked down and under that purple velvet and lavender chiffon I saw an unsightly pair of dirty boys tennis shoes sticking out like and elephant in an anthill. The little girl no longer wore her glasses and her hair was brushed until every hair was in place. She no longer had her hands on all her nearby friends, but was stroking the velvet first one way and then another. Yes, the fabric was a little heavy. It was pulling slightly on one chubby shoulder, but it was soft and rich. The girl was acting like a lady in it. I scrounged up a pair of purple footies for her our of the soc bag, and she left the room gliding.
I stayed until all the children and the mothers left the room. There was a defining quiet. Then I noticed something left on the costume rack. It was pink. I walked over and looked. Sure enough, there was my old friend, the pink dress hanging on the rack alone. It registered now that Betsy Ross' mother had walked in late with something in her hand mumbling something about the other not fitting around the neck. The "Picture of Understanding" flashed into my mind--naturally she wanted her child to feel like the queen on the stage, so she had constructed her very own dress, designed especially for her--her style, her choice of materials. I looked at the dress hanging on the rack like and old friend and quietly said, "You traitor! You know it was you that got me into this whole mess. I have lost three weeks of my life and am dead tired just because of you, and now you aren't even a part of it." The dress hung there every bit as gorgeous as ever as if to say, "Well, I had my day and my glory!" I smiled to myself as I left the room to see the play and can you guess what happened. The flapper costume was clearly the most shinny, shimmery, flashy, and elegant costume on the stage this year. And Lori's flapper dance stole the show--everybody said so.