My family was not a dress-up-at-Thanksgiving type of family. We were all chopping and stirring and mixing and saw no point in wrecking our perfectly good dress clothes. On Thanksgiving days, we wore our comfiest, stretchiest loungewear…until Thanksgiving 1983.
A few weeks before turkey day, I saw an outfit in the window of Watson’s Department store. At thirteen, I was hardly a fashionista; but I could just see myself at the Thanksgiving table in that corduroy skirt and high-necked blouse.
“Wouldn’t you rather wear your jeans?” Mom asked. “No one else is going to be that dressed up.” She looked skeptical, the same way she looked when I was 8-years-old and begged for red thong sandals (which ultimately blistered the insides of my big toes and second toes so badly I had to wear layers of Band-aids all summer).
“I have to have the outfit, Mom. It’s perfect,” I said. I was not the type of kid who asked for much. That was more my sister’s domain. Daddy said my littler sister would walk into a hardware store and beg for nuts and bolts.
Anyway, I felt destined to wear the outfit, especially the corduroy skirt; so my mother gave in. Fortunately, Watson’s was not a high-end boutique. Mom checked the price tag, shrugged her shoulders, and gave me the go ahead. I was thrilled when I found a skirt and blouse in my size. Hugging the garments to my chest all the way to the checkout, I imagined how impressed everyone would be with my Thanksgiving ensemble.
On Thanksgiving morning, I got up and dressed early. The skirt was pretty stiff, and there was so much of it that it could have upholstered a small loveseat. The hem dragged the floor. Mom had offered to take it up a few inches, but I assured her this was the style. The stiff fabric made a funny scratching sound as I walked. It was too rigid to swish. That’s okay, I thought, turning from side to side to admire myself in the full-length mirror in my parents’ room. The rich cranberry color shouted Thanksgiving. Vertically striped in shades of cranberry, white, and mauve, the button-up blouse was 100 percent cotton with shoulder pads sewn in and sleeves that puffed at the shoulders and around the wrists. I buttoned the blouse all the way to the top, dramatically restricting my ability to nod or move my head from side to side. I looked like Nellie Olson with frizzy brown hair instead of yellow curls.
Unfortunately, I had no appropriate footwear for this type of outfit. (I don’t think anything of the sort had been sold since the late 1800s.) I sorted through all the shoes in my closet, and came up empty. Oh well, I reasoned. The skirt was so long, it hid my feet. I could just wear my favorite Minnetonka moccasins (fringed, with a zipper up the heel)…the ones we bought in Gatlinburg. I was wishing for some high-buttoned boots to take the outfit over the top, but the suede moccasins would have to do.
When my grandparents arrived at the front door, I rushed to greet them as quickly as the unwieldy skirt would allow. The result was a shuffling walk. I remember opening the front door with a sweeping gesture of my left arm, festooned in the ballooning sleeve. My grandparents were stunned, to say the least. I’m sure they wondered if they had gone through a space time continuum or if, at least, they had missed the memo outlining a new and unusual Thanksgiving dress code.
“What are you wearing?” Papaw asked. Granny just widened her eyes and gave a close-lipped smile.
“It’s my cranberry skirt!” I exclaimed, undaunted.
‘Well it certainly is cranberry!” Granny said encouragingly.
I shuffled and crackled my way through Thanksgiving Day, regretting only the fitted waist band on the beloved cranberry skirt. There was not much room for extra servings of anything, that was for sure. After our guests said their good-byes (Papaw still shaking his head at my outfit), I rolled up my puffy sleeves and helped put the dishes away.
I then changed into my pajamas and carefully hung the skirt and blouse in my closet. It was a day to remember…and a skirt I would never forget, my cranberry skirt for Thanksgiving.
16 responses to “The Cranberry Skirt”
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Oh, I am right with your young self! Falling in love and then insisting that it work. I can just picture it from your vivid description, as well as picturing your family’s lukewarm reception! But sometimes we have to stand up for fashion!
As I continue to think about your piece, I think it really captures an age. An age when we are finding ourselves and negotiating how much we will stand out or conform. Im glad you have this memory of your perfect Thanksgiving outfit. Im also glad you shared it with us with such humor, and warmth toward your younger self.-
Thanks, Fran! That was a funny, but special, outfit. I’m glad my mom supported my early attempts to make a fashion statement. I’m sure it was a little concerning for her. Haha!
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Lori, you bring back all the feels of the day with the Minnetonka Moccasins from Gatlinburg. I got a pair in Cherokee and wore them in high school. They had the hard bottom soles like Sebago boat shoes, and I loved the beads and versatility. Your post brings me right back to the family arriving, and everyone being in the state of family photo (group) pictures and so we all did have to dress up a little because that was usually the Christmas Card picture…..and we did them whole group, family group, and subfamily group. I can smell the turkey and dressing, and I love the image of the cranberry skirt for the festivity of the day. Here is my favorite sentence: I looked like Nellie Olson with frizzy brown hair instead of yellow curls. I’m laughing WITH you!!!
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Those moccasins were my absolute favorite! Mine were a dusty blue suede and they did not have the rubber soles. I wore them so much, I wore holes in the bottom.
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You have so many details that bring your story to life. Mom’s skeptical look… oh, I remember that. I remember a very scratchy sweater I would never admit was scratchy… it was perfect, just what all the girls had to have that Christmas. My couple of years-older cousin and I wore them to the movies on New Year’s Eve- I knew how perfect it was when I saw SHE had one, too.
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I’ll bet that sweater was the BEST, Diane! It’s so funny that we can tie such core memories to articles of clothing. I think it’s an important rite of passage to choose an outfit or accessory and wear it with pride.
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Your vivid description of the stiff, “loveseat-upholstered” corduroy and those Minnetonka moccasins perfectly captures that teenage determination to make a fashion statement, no matter how impractical. Goodness, I remember some of my teenage fashion statements. I’m unsure how confident I would be to share them publicly. Bravo to you!
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Thank you, Stacey! That was quite an extraordinary skirt. To this day, corduroy is still my favorite fabric; but these days I stick to corduroy pants instead of voluminous skirts. Even though corduroy has gone in and out of fashion, it’s remained a staple for me. Haha!
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Lori,
I lol’d several times as I read. I have no problem envisioning this outfit. Remember Gunne Sax designs that were so popular in the late 70s to early 80s? Lord, I hope those puffy sleeves and high necks stay in the closet. Glad you survived the day w/ out damaging the skirt or yourself.-
I definitely remember that brand! Haha! I can’t say I miss shoulder pads. Perhaps my corduroy skirt would not have looked so crazy if I’d allowed my mom to hem it like she suggested. I’m on the shorter side; so I’m sure the skirt was probably not intended to be formal length. Oh well!
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Lori,
What a fantastic memory. I loved feeling your joy and your pride.
Your piece is so well-crafted with the dialogue and detailed descriptions.
These lines made me smile the most:
“The stiff fabric made a funny scratching sound as I walked. It was too rigid to swish. That’s okay, I thought, turning from side to side to admire myself in the full-length mirror in my parents’ room. The rich cranberry color shouted Thanksgiving.”
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Thank you, Sharon! Who knew that funny skirt would inspire a slice all these years later!
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Lori, what a fantastic memory with such clear details I feel as if I lived this along with you! “That stiff fabric,” “that rich cranberry color,” are phrases that describe my memories of that era as well! Thanks for the smiles and the chance to remember that era.
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Thanks, Anita! I really appreciate your comments. The 80s were quite the fashion forward decade! I can’t believe I wore parachute pants and owned a “paper jacket.”
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Oh, Lori, this is so precious! I love your memories of the day, the skirt and all the details. You are a great storyteller. This detail about your skirt made me burst out laughing: “…there was so much of it that it could have upholstered a small loveseat.” Fun post!
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Thank you, Denise! The strangest thing about my corduroy skirt is that I only wore it once. I guess I felt Thanksgiving was the only occasion worthy of it! Haha!
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