Family story: My mother came to school one day to drop something off for the PTA. She saw a small, grubby child on the playground—collar chewed, white socks down in her shoes, sweater looped through lunchbox and tied around the waist. “I did not recognize my own child,” she told everyone. “She looked so sweet heading off in the morning.”

My mother desperately wanted a tidy, soft girl child—but she had me. By the beginning of third grade, my mother gave up. She stopped perming my hair into a mass of fluffy curls. She sewed five sturdy corduroy jumpers, one for each day of the week: gold, orange, blue, red, and green. Each one fell straight down to my knees and buttoned at the shoulders. No pockets. Underneath, I had a turtleneck  (no collars to chew on): gold, orange, blue, red and green. I was forbidden to mix the colors. No patterns to experiment with—I loved wearing plaids and polka dots together. She purchased tights, again in the five colors, rather than white ankle socks that sank into my shoes and turned grey in the dust.  To cap it off, she found a packet of underpants that were labeled with the days of the week, which I really tried to follow. I did not mind; it was easy to get dressed in the morning.

When the pandemic started, I put all of my school clothes into the spare room closet, because I am no more tidy now than I was at seven. For a year, I wore my old clothes everywhere, including school, because no one was going to see me in that echoing, cold building.  I wore out socks and tights and a couple of pairs of jeans. When we came back to school this fall, I brought a few of my skirts back, leaving the rest in the spare closet. If they do not migrate back into rotation this year, they are leaving the building. I now have four skirts, three pairs of pants, and I my collection of shirts from the Golden Crane, where Ruby, the owner of the business,  sold me on them—heavy cotton, three quarter sleeve, great colors, no collars. Neat. Warm. Proffessional (ish).  Black, green, purple, grey, and gold.  Almost every morning, I pull one on, with skirt or pants. I don’t mind; it is still easier to get dressing in the morning with fewer options.