The dressmaker's dummy was in excellent humour. She always was when there was a new addition to the wardrobe. She gazed at the dress with approval and asked "Well? What do you think of yourself?"
The dress was silent for a moment, seemingly unsure how to answer. Then she said "Well, I suppose I am pretty, and I do like my full skirt, and gathered sleeves, and my ric rac neckline is too, too sweet - but I'm not so sure about the teardrop pattern."
The dummy gave a start. As far as she was concerned the dress was not only lovely, but well made at that. To be quibbling over the fabric pattern - the nerve! Giving the dress a stern look, the dummy said "Explain yourself!"
The dress had begun to feel rather chastened. Nobody had warned her about this mannequin, who seemed to rule over all the clothes like some sort of sartorial royalty. Straightening her skirts she said "The thing is, I want to be a happy dress - the kind you wear out to a party, and everybody says how lovely you look. But I'm covered in thousands of teardrops - there's nothing happy about that, is there? It's going to be awfully hard to be considered the glad rags when people look at me and think sad rags."
If the dummy had eyes, she would have rolled them. As it was she heaved a sigh that came from the very bottom of her stand, and began to take the dress to task. "For starters, missy, you need to stop thinking only of yourself. Your job is not to consider what the wearer can do for you, but what you can do for the wearer! The reason for your existence is to boost her when she is low! To make her feel brilliant and vivacious when she puts you on. And perhaps, most importantly, to shield her from the onslaughts of a cruel world, for when she is wearing the armour of her favourite frock, nothing can go wrong. That, my dear dress, is your calling."
"But I'm covered in tears!" quivered the dress.
"Indeed you are!" retorted the dummy. "And may I ask, in this vale of emotions, what is wrong with tears? Did you not consider that they may be tears of joy? Those tears, my dear, are rare, and all the more powerful for it. Human eyes do not weep with gladness on the spinning of a dime. They only weep thus when the most powerful feelings of love, and blessedness and overwhelming exaltation spring forth from the very depths of the human heart. And those tears serve to nurture and water the human soul's spiritual evolution. You should be proud to be covered in such tears, you daft girl!"
"You're right!" exclaimed the dress. "I'd never thought of it like that. I shall be proud! I shall be proud to be the tear drop frock, resplendent and refulgent with my shining tears of orange and white!"
"Atta girl!" said the dummy. And with that all was well in the wardrobe once more.
>> Thursday, February 09, 2012 – Sew sew sew