Saturday morning, I stopped by my sister's apartment to drop off her Avon order and found her going through a box of stuff from my mother's apartment. (Mom died years ago, but only recently has my sister begun going through Mom's stuff.)
"Here --- this is yours," my sister said to me and handed me a stuffed manilla envelope.
"What is it?" I asked.
I opened the envelope and withdrew its contents: five old dress patterns for styles from the mid- to late-1960s.
"What do you mean these are mine?" I asked.
"Mommy bought them to make dresses for you," she explained.
"Huh!"
"She even made one dress for you --- this one," she said, as she pointed to one of the patterns I held in my hands.
"She was going to give it to you as a birthday gift. But then she changed her mind because she didn't want to embarrass you."
(Note that although my sister and I are very close, she does not support me much on the trans front.)
"So, she knew," I replied.
"Dad knew, too, and he talked her out of giving the dress to you."
I always suspected that my parents knew and now my suspicions were confirmed.
"Wow! What happened to the dress?" I asked.
"I have no idea," my sister replied, "Let's change the subject."
I don't know what was the next subject because my mind was still on the dress my mother made for me and how my life might have been different if I had only confided in her.
Femulator in street style circa 1964.
Wearing Phillip Lim.
