Old silk

The economy is falling apart and although I am no poorer today than I was three weeks ago, I have thought about cutting back in spending. I had a conference to attend today, one where casual dress was more than enough formal. I threw on jeans and an old pink silk blouse with flowers and a tie neck, at least a decade old. It’s traveled the world with me, this blouse. It washes well in hotel sinks and emerges from luggage relatively wrinkle free. Despite being silk, it’s been hard wearing, nary a hole, a rip, not faded as afar as I can tell. But, I stopped at a store on the way home. Silk shirts, hand washable, in beautiful prints on sale and discounted further today. As I tried on a new one – orange and brown, paisley prints are in this season (or the last, as the case may be), I realized how old the old standby is. It’s from another era and marks me as such. The recent compliments I had on it, I realize, bust be from those who also fondly remember that era; and a sadness, sweet and light, like a blanket of snow, beautiful in its poignancy but harbinger of an unavoidable fresh season envelopes me in the dressing room.