I believe I was nine years old the last time I had a real Easter dress. I can see the picture taken that morning of me and my brother Nathan. My hair was more than halfway down my back in those days (well, in all days until I graduated from college) and in this particular picture, it’s curled in ringlets that probably lasted all of 15 minutes since my super straight hair does not take curl.
It’s been more than 30 years and I haven’t had what I would call an Easter dress since, primarily because it isn’t like I actually go anywhere on Easter that requires dressing up. But for some reason, I always wake up on Easter morning and wonder, with a little more angst than I do on a typical Sunday, “what am I going to wear today?” As I had this conversation with my sleepy self a few minutes ago, it occurred to me that the real problem is that I don’t have what others would call brunch attire.
My brunch outfits, depending on who I’m meeting and where we’re going, usually revolve around my regular weekend staple: jeans. If it’s a casual brunch, I throw on a t-shirt. I might add a blazer, a chunky necklace, a scarf or all three. If I want to dress it up a little, I swap the tee for a blouse. And I’m comfortable with this look – it reflects who I am. I wear a skirt or a dress every day of the work week, so weekends are for jeans. In fact, the dresses in my closet are primarily for work or evening and would look out of place on a Saturday or Sunday. Or rather, I should say, I would feel out of place in them since they are part of my work uniform.
I can already read the comment, “wear a sundress and a cardigan to brunch” but I’m definitely not the sundress type. Trust me, when you get to be my age, floral dresses move quickly from flirty to frumpy, so it isn’t like I feel I am missing the grown-up version of this long ago dress from my youth. At the same time, when it comes to brunch, the other end of the scale (think grandmotherly tweed suit and pearls) is not right either, though if I had a Chanel suit, I’d wear the blazer (with jeans) at every opportunity.
So again I am stuck at: what to wear today?
We’re going to Nancy’s for brunch this morning where our collective four boys will run around in shorts and t-shirts, collecting dirt, rocks, sticks and sweat. Her daughter Tess will undoubtedly have two or three dresses she rotates in and out of as the day progresses, her face stickier with chocolate bunnies and jelly beans with each wardrobe change.
The jury it out on what I will be wearing, except when it comes to my feet.
I might not have an Easter dress, but I do have Easter shoes.
the chelsea chronicles 