Most communities in the 60’s had a person that was a seamstress. Vesta Lawson had made clothes for me when I started to school and all through high school. She is now going to make me some maternity clothes. Vesta’s husband died and she and her son’s moved into a big white farm house with her mother and sister, Alma. The house always seemed creepy and the floors squeaked when you walked down the hall. The back porch had a water well and a big black hand pump on top. I always liked to stop and get a drink of the cold, cold water before I went in the house.
The little old women were usually in the kitchen cooking and the smell of cornbread drifted all through the house. They usually ate what they raised in their garden and what they canned from the year before. Vesta and Alma’s mother, Ms. Griffith, was in her ninty’s. She always wore a long dress and her hair was pulled up into a bun. Alma always smelled like Clorox or Magic as it was known then. I never knew why….
Vesta would always have you walk down the hallway to a rear bedroom to be measured for your clothes. Vesta had very little, but she was a genius at fitting and designing. She could just measure you and come up with an outfit without a pattern. They always looked great. No one in the 60’s would have even thought of showing their stomach in public. The tops were a smock and the skirts had a hole cut out to allow growth of the baby.
Vesta had two son’s how lived with her in that old white farm house. Glen was an older son, that was mentally impaired and was about the same age as my dad. He couldn’t really talk very well and was always upstairs when I was there. Her other son was Cecil and he was older than me and always had a studder when he spoke.
Memories of the farm house, the old women with white hair, the squeeky floors, the well with a hand pump and new original fashion design are a very good way to end the day.