Devonne Brown

I had on boots, leggings, a sweater dress, and vintage jewelry. The brooch was a stone blue, grey, and weird white that went perfectly with the black of the dress. It had matching clip earrings that were so perfectly cut they glistened in the dark. They were even comfortable to wear. I had lost twenty pounds and stood beside my sister with pride. Even she, in her Coco Chanel outfit, didn’t look any better than me. Ha! I had done it.

I had dressed properly for one of my sister’s events. She approved. Her friends were impressed. I didn’t look like an old hippie from the seventies. My hair was in place, my make up was flawless, my glasses, well, my glasses were enormous but they overlooked that eccentricity, this time. 

The evening progressed. Wine was poured and consumed. There was soft music and the sound of the ocean waves gently pounded in the background. People swayed. Stars shot across the sky in cascades, the evening was cool and clear. It was perfect weather for an afterdark Southern barbecue. 

More wine flowed. Conversations became more intense than interesting as they are wont to do in the evenings with strangers. I was used to asking questions to get people to talk without having to do so myself. I let the teacher take over and made people think they were smart. 

The evening was great and wonderful, and everyone left but a few close friends. Sharon, Bill, and I  went into the house with her special friends and without thinking, I took off my boots. Horror of horrors my socks didn’t match, why would they tonight? They never did. With the Mona Lisa  on my right foot and George Washington on my left, I was back on the fashion shit list.