Cherry Blossom time
Memory is a funny thing. For years I used to proudly tell my friends about my older sister, Blossom – how cool she was way back before I was even born. I’d tell them how her boyfriend rode a motorbike and bought her clothes from fashionable boutiques in the city. “There’s this photo,” I’d say, “of her sitting on the back of his bike, and she has this purple-chiffon-caftan-thing on, with long black boots.” I had a vivid recollection of this priceless family heirloom in my mind’s eye every time I described it in a gloating voice.
…I race to find the photo and discover that it is nothing like I remembered!
Finally I remembered to ask her if I could immortalise her image here in this journal, and recently she reluctantly handed over an old family album. Imagine my surprise when I race to find the photo and discover that it is nothing like I remembered! “Are you sure this is the only one?” I demanded suspiciously, as though my childhood memory was more to be relied on than my sister’s.
“Yes,” she answered firmly. “This is the only one in existence.”
“Alright, fine,” I say, still dubious. It was a fantastic coat, regardless – heck, it was the quintessential 70s outfit. But then I flip a few pages in the old album; the horizontal lines of gum under the plastic overlay are dark yellow with age. And then I find it:
A purple dress with chiffon sleeves! Obviously I merged the two photos into one romantic image of Blossom on the back of her boyfriend’s motorbike.
These photos were taken on the day of their engagement party (and they’re still happily married). Blossom can’t remember where she bought that dress from, but it was quite a bit longer to start with: below-the-knee… not quite caftan length! Blossom shortened it; to mum’s annoyance. (I have previously mentioned my mother’s disapproval of these dissipated Western fashions.) Sadly, Bloss has no idea what became of that dress.
She didn’t always wear minis though: sometimes she borrowed her boyfriend’s beige cord jeans…
She didn’t always wear minis though: sometimes she borrowed her boyfriend’s beige cord jeans to wear while riding the back of the bike. The coat Blossom wears in the first photo is blue and purple suede, and came from ‘The In Shoppe’ on Bourke St, Melbourne. It originally had a blue star sewn on the back, which she took off because she didn’t like it. Blossom does remember the fate of this coat: it was donated to the poor in Russia, and she likes to fancy some Russian woman wandering around in it once-upon-a-time. And naturally the lace-up boots are leather.
Bloss usually shopped in boutiques in the city, and sometimes department stores like Buckley and Nunn, which was bought out by David Jones. I myself nostalgically remember trips into the city, and the magical doors of Buckley’s. Other shops Blossom frequented were Sportsgirl (“I remember I bought a lot of things from there”); Sussans; Portmans; and Miss Selfridge, which turned into Chelsea Girl. Warms my heart to think her grand-daughter will soon be shopping at those same stores, if she isn’t already.
I asked Bloss how she felt in these clothes: cool, and fashionable? “Of course, all those things,” she answered instantly. And I must say she looks adorable.