Fashion sense provides a way to remember those who have died

Sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch; we know these as our five senses. However, there is one very important sense missing from the list; fashion sense. With each sense comes a moment of reflection. I know the sight of a Sandhill’s sunset, I know the sound of my dad’s whistle, I know the taste of my grandma Linda’s mashed potatoes, and I know the touch of my mom’s hand, however, I never really took the time to figure out what, or more importantly, who defined my sense of fashion. At 12:34 p.m. on Monday, I found the answer as I stood on the double sidewalks just outside the cafeteria on the phone with my mom.

My Great Grandma Erma was the definition of a fashionista. From the moment I met her to the moment she left this Earth three days ago at the age of 88, I never once saw her without her hair fixed, full make-up on, a flashy top, and a pair of slacks. Not once. Not even when I would stop by to pay her a visit last minute. I can’t even say that about myself at the age of 21. If you call me last minute saying you’re going to stop by you’ll find me knuckle deep in a bowl of popcorn with greasy hair, last night’s make-up, and I may or may not have pants on. I commend her greatly on her fashion dedication. I would call her while I was literally parked outside her house asking if I could stop by and with more excitement than anyone I’ve ever known she would start walking to her front door to wait for my arrival looking like she was dressed for a night on the town….and she probably was. When I was shopping for my senior picture outfits I remember stopping by her house to show her my new purchases, a memory that had slipped from my mind until this week. As I sat cross-legged on her floor she sat on her davenport and said “I think you got your fashion sense from me.”

I will always remember her stories of going dancing and you can believe that sassy little lady didn’t wear anything but glittery, sparkly heels. The same glittery, sparkly heels she would let me and my sister wear when we played waitress at her house. Hence my love for bling and my likelihood of being overdressed for most occasions. Watching home videos a couple months ago I found a clip from my fifth birthday. I had gotten a yellow playhouse with blue shutters. Needless to say, my Great Grandma Erma is in the background explaining how she searched to find plates and cups that would match the house. I wish I could say that’s not something I would do, but I can’t. My Great Grandma was a beautiful woman inside and out and I’m almost 100 percent positive she had a more active dating life than I ever have.  To that I say, “atta girl, Grandma.”

The great thing about realizing where your sense of fashion comes from is realizing that even after your inspiration passes, their memory lives on through you. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, or even 10 years down the road I hope more than anything that you get an understanding of where your fashion sense comes from. When you do, each fashion choice you make becomes even more special. At 10 a.m. Central Time tomorrow, my family will lay to rest my Great Grandma, babysitter, willing customer of my childhood games, and the inspiration of my fashion sense, Erma Wallace.  So readers, I ask one thing of you. Tomorrow, I ask you to help me honor the life of a fellow fashionista by wearing some sort of pearl accessory. Whether it’s a pearl necklace, pearl earrings, or a pearl bracelet, whether it’s a full strand of pearls or just accent pearls, whether it goes with your outfit or not I ask that you wear them. I also ask that you send me your #pearlpic via twitter to @FashFor365 to help me through this tough time. It is only right that a fashionista goes out in true class and style.