I always loved the fact that she was perfectly turned out even when she had nowhere to go.
Like a proper lady.
It wouldn’t matter what time of day you visited, you would never catch her looking like she had just got out of bed.
Her surroundings were made of simple but the way she dressed said she came from more.
Always a beautiful pale pink or cream pussy bow blouse without a single wrinkle.. how did she always make it look as though she had just purchased it from a high end store.
Not a crinkle or a mark with a bow looking like it was wrapping a wonderfully magical present.
A brown pleated skirt just to the knees.. she was tiny with legs that had been bent over time and could be seen for all those years of effort…
..and always in smart slippers, the type that looked like elegant shoes. She needed to protect those bunions but there were always standards.
Her hair.. she of the age of the blue rinse and set.. perfectly blonde with a little something. Tight curls that would last the day, the weeks.. whatever that entailed.
But the thing that I loved most and finished her look of a perfectly well groomed lady of distinction were those pearl earrings. They were not real of course but on her they should have been. What they lacked in value she made up for in class. Smoking her cigarette as though in a 1930’s movie, in that elegant fashion I would expect to see outside a Parisian cafe.
Only she could carry off a pair of marigolds alongside her ensemble and make them appear like red velvet gloves.
How proud I was that she belonged to me ❤️
This one is especially for you.
When I listen to music I think of you.