Thursday, December 1, 2011

Helen, Age 19

Helen Dumas, Student, Winter 1967

   "I'm surprised Mom let you keep that", Claire mumbles.  There's a tinge of frustration in her voice, and I'm sure the buttons are only partially to blame.  Claire is right.  "Mom doesn't know I have it", I reply.  It's tinge for tinge now. 
     A hole in his sleeve looks like a tiny a fiber wound --- one most likely acquired some chilly Coors night on campus.  And it smells like him too ... which isn't nearly as surprising as it should be, considering he was the last to wash it. 
   I never asked mom if it was okay.  Had I not rescued it, I know for a fact it would have just ended up in a place full of "good will" and bad memories.  What she doesn't know, won't get me in her bad graces.   
   Claire has finally figured out how to turn the flash off.  It's perfectly overcast outside, but thanks to a lack of drapery on our massive old windows, there is just enough natural light to color this shoot sad.  "I'm not changing into a dress.  I'll have to just wear this sweater.", was my only demand; and while a roll of her eyes was her only response, I can tell Claire is secretly tickled about capturing a little of us both in the same frame.  

In Helen's Closet . . .

Helen, Age 19

Helen, Age 19 by thequeenknowsbest featuring high rise skinny jeans

*The quote above is a fictionalized account inspired by the people and fashion of a photograph by Emiliano Granado

1 comment: