Chapter 1: The Reluctant Fashionista

In the Netflix series The Diplomat, Ambassador Kate Wyler's fashion choices become a point of contention. She insists on wearing black, rejecting gray, white, and any hint of color, opting solely for pant suits. Her team attempts to persuade her to diversify her wardrobe, but their efforts are met with discontent. Although she briefly dons a vibrant red gown for a specific purpose, it’s clear that this is an exception rather than a new norm. The show resonates with my own tumultuous relationship with clothing, reminiscent of times when style felt significant.

Flashback to late September of 1968, in Southern Michigan, when summer made a brief comeback. I was in fifth grade, navigating the steps of Northeastern playground when Scott Smith yanked my harvest gold mini-skirt down, leaving my white cotton underwear on full display for Mrs. K.'s class to witness.

Fast forward to mid-August 1972, where I sat in the bleachers at band camp, ready to march across Michigan State University's football field for a state competition. I glanced down, horrified to see bright red blood seeping through my crisp white shorts.

Then there was late December 1980. After visiting the restroom to fix my false eyelash glue and adjust my strapless white mini dress, the bartender called out, "Hey, Patti, your dress is tucked into your pantyhose."

In March 2020, following my engagement, it seemed expected that I would wear white for my wedding, given it was my first marriage. My mother-in-law proclaimed it was my time to shine, even as I expressed my desire for a simple courthouse ceremony. I envisioned a painless, uncomplicated wedding at 62, detached from the norms of a "blushing bride." Yet, a part of me longed to feel beautiful for that day, even if I didn’t indulge in the extravagant details often depicted in bridal magazines.

How to print Rest In Peace T-shirt | sublimating 100% polyester White T-shirt - YouTube

This video guides you through the process of sublimating a 100% polyester white t-shirt, perfect for creating a personalized memorial shirt.

Delusion number one: Mirrors may deceive, but cameras reveal the truth.

Returning to 1968, my mother would order school clothes from the Sears Catalog, marking the transition to fall. The arrival of the catalog was a signal for family changes, including our annual trips to sunny Florida.

At age 11, I began mother-daughter shopping trips to a specialty store in Grand Rapids, where I learned about quality clothing and style—lessons that masked my insecurities as an awkward teenager.

As noted by author Abby Aguirre, American girls often undergo a drastic shift during adolescence, abandoning their confidence for societal expectations. By 1972, at 14, I found myself grappling with a confusing sense of fashion and a strong disdain for being a girl, fueled by the overprotective nature of my parents.

I rebelled against femininity, opting for corduroy pants and hiking boots, determined to defy my mother's expectations. My mother maintained her elegance, effortlessly captivating, while I navigated the treacherous waters of teenage identity.

How to make a Memorial T-shirt | Create a Rest in Peace shirt | RIP T-shirt - YouTube

This tutorial shows you how to create a memorial t-shirt, guiding you through each step to honor your loved ones with a personal touch.

Chapter 2: The Evolution of Style

By 1980, I found myself in Las Vegas with just $200 in my pocket and a thirst for adventure. The city offered a new lifestyle filled with nightclubs, dancing, and vibrant fashion. I embraced the nightlife, donning black pants, tuxedos, and little black dresses, embodying the spirit of the city that never sleeps.

Back then, department stores thrived, showcasing complete outfits with accessories. I relished dressing up and frequently purchased new outfits for nights out. However, during the day, I opted for comfortable attire—sweats and sneakers became my daytime uniform.

In June 2020, as I began searching for wedding attire, I faced the challenges of online shopping during the pandemic. Ultimately, I received a mediocre white dress from China, which felt more like a horror story than a dream dress. Yet, with a mountain-top wedding in Colorado on the horizon, I made it work.

On September 22, 2020, amidst clouds and wind, I exchanged vows in Idaho Springs at an elevation of 8,460 feet, embracing the beauty of the moment despite my fashion struggles.

May the color white rest in peace.