Rose Petals

I have a new kimono jacket that is silk velvet devore. It is dyed various shades of rose, peach and violet. The burnout on the cloth reminds me of blood cells or falling rose petals. Somehow, quite magically, it brings out any peach left over from my former peaches and cream complexion. The rose enhances anything blond left in my shortened mane.

Today I will dye a silk crepe and make a sheath dress to go with the jacket. I will climb out of my artsy fartsy but very practical black for just a little while.

Once I made a cloth from rose petals, acrylic medium and plumber's cloth. It looked like worn buckskin when it was finished and I made little boxes from it to use in my gulf war embroideries. The roses came from an ancient variety in the little back garden of this 100 year old tiny cottage. The roses still have long spikes and actually have a strong fragrance. The name is probably in the house records.

There is a collection of awful old rose chintz cloth in the cellar. It has been moved to one trunk now. Individually they are not very attractive but look amazing as a pile. I thought they were similar when I found each one of them but they are all different. They have been accumulating since the sixties along with a collection of old hankies. I think I was making quilts and hippy clothing from them and waiting for a daughter. She never came but wonderful nieces did.

Many women I know started dressing with vivid colour during meno-pause. Almost scary garrish. Tim's mother dressed in bright orange , wines and greens. She was so tiny and draped herself in colourful caftans and almost disappeared. My mother started dressing in jewel tones of red, emerald and electric blue. Both these women looked wonderful.

I always dressed in black. I indulged myself with black lace, leather and velvet when I wasn't wearing the dreaded t-shirt and leggings or jeans. My secret indulgence is red flannel nighties. I'd never get dressed if it didn't scare Tim and my children!

I just never wear roses.