Simple Living with Wanda Urbanska

Wanda's Diary Entries

Thursday, July 19, 2007

When shopping for clothes, my favorite destinations are consignment and thrift shops. Whenever my sister Jane comes to visit Mount Airy from suburban Washington D.C., we always make the pilgrimage down to one of our favorites in Winston, the Snob Shop. There we hunt and peck through the racks, matching vintage jackets with slacks, scarves and shoes. It’s fun, and we invariably come away with sometimes zany, sometimes practical, additions to our wardrobes. After our spree, we generally go to lunch at the little diner across the street. Another favorite destination for me is Mayberry Consignment, here in Mount Airy, where I also consign my clothing along with items that Henry has outgrown.

Recently when I was in Winston on business, I stopped into the Snob Shop without Jane, missing her terribly but rallying nonetheless. As I was about to make my exit, empty-handed, I spied a new shipment of shoes on the counter. They were my size, 8 1/2 medium. These were shoes with sales stickers still affixed to soles that had never seen pavement. There was a smart white flat with black patent leather trim that looked as if it would be perfect for semi-dressy summer occasions. But, then, there was also an identical pair in white with beige trim, that might be even more versatile than the black and white but was less striking. Both were wonderful, inexpensive, and fit like the proverbial glove. I couldn’t decide which to buy.

In the end, I did something I rarely do. I bought both. That night, it donned on me. Mother, who shares my shoe size (Jane’s the Cinderella in our clan wearing a mere 7 1/2), had been wearing the same scruffy pumps to church for the last several years now. That second pair was meant for her. Since I still couldn’t decide which she would prefer (or which I wanted more,) I stuffed one from each pair into a bag and presented it.

“One pair has your name on it; you decide which.”

This past Sunday, Mama let me know her decision. She walked the two blocks to Trinity Episcopal Church (up Virginia Street and down Main) from the Renfro Lofts, sporting the beige and white pair. A few minutes later, I slid into the pew next to her, wearing the white and black flats. We tapped our feet together, giggling like school girls. It reminded me for all the world of the time my best friend in sixth grade, Hallie Gay, and I bought matching outfits: solid tops with floral culottes—Hallie Gay’s in yellow and mine in pink.

I would have laid money that Mama she would have taken the dramatic, black-trimmed pair. But that is part of the fun of life, not knowing precisely which way it will take you, having fun on the ride.