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Inside a Hookers Closet

June 15, 2011

Priorities change. As a little girl I remember my mother loving fashion and her closest overflowed with the latest and greatest. She had a classic esthetic with a contemporary flare. I used to have to sit in the women’s clothing department for hours on end while she waltzed in and out of fitting rooms. I hadn’t yet developed an interest in fashion and thought change rooms were torture chambers in disguise. Still do today in fact but from a different psychological viewpoint.

Back then department stores had the good sense to provide couches for the captured audiences of their shoppers. Bored to tears by a show I could not yet relate to I politely waited for mom while seated in our second living room. During commercial breaks I would scan the store in search of an escape route. Unavoidably my sights would rest on the beacon of hope that is the brightly lit emergency EXIT sign. It was meant for an entirely different kind of emergency but I was a kid and that was the only candy that appealed to me in this store. Sometimes I would share the couch with other waiting children or snoring husbands. We didn’t exchange words because the looks on our faces said it all. Altogether we sighed and succumbed to the elevator music being pipped into the store. United against our will we were lulled into a consumers sleep.

Today a peak inside my mother’s closest reveals cloths from years gone by and a shifted set of priorities. As a rug hooker her fashion interests have been pushed aside to make room for a rainbow of wool. Far prettier then the false promises of skirts and tailored shirts are cut up pieces of old woven thread. They lay in waiting for their turn to tell a more intriguing story inside a new landscape – a landscape more inclined to motivate self worth rather than deactivate it.

In my Happy Hooker post I talked about the rich colors of my mother’s palette and how it makes me salivate. Perhaps seeing is believing. Recently I paid her a visit (she lives on the other side of the country) and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to show you whats inside this hookers closet.

© Dana Aubrey

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