The itchy dress

Elide Siviero

Today, looking at some clothes that I can no longer wear because they don’t suit those who walk with a support, two little clothes from when I was a child came back to mind. They have very vivid memories attached to them. The first was a winter cloth— sacked, made of heavy wool, yellow, with green, blue and pink squares and a lovely white collar. The second one was a summer cloth, in piqué cotton, cut at the waist with a wheeled skirt and a final flounce. It was white with coloured ponies. It was my favorite. I really liked the winter one, but it was a real torture: it was as beautiful as it was uncomfortable, it pinched everywhere. I wore it to go to my grandmother who lived in Milan and the trip turned into a little torment. But I knew that grandma loved that little dress and that she would be happy to see me wearing it. In short, the winter dress responds to the saying: “Who wants to look nicer must suffer”. The dress with the ponies is instead linked to my first memory of the change in my body: I noticed with that dress that…