Other people’s clothes – should we wear them.

I was thinking about that as I cleared my wardrobe of some of my winter gear. I hate the way everything gets squashed up on the rail and I have to look through several times to find what I want. Winter clothes are so bulky.

I put away a beautiful pale beige rain coat. This is not my coat. Well, I guess it is now but it came from one of my dearest friends who died a couple of years ago.

She loved the coat. I have a letter she wrote after she bought it and she described her feelings as she strode down the Champs Ellysees in Paris on a winter morning dressed in the coat and some smart brown leather boots. Unfortunately the boots didn’t fit me. She visited France every year and as the years passed she learned to speak French fluently and to feel she passed as a Parisian. Her coat helped. It’s cut in the traditional trench coat style with an edge of darker coloured suede. She bought it France where style is upper most.

I wear it as often as the weather allows. It is longish, so on a wet days my skirts or pants stay dry but most importantly I wear it because it belonged to her. Sliding my arms into it and shrugging it on as I walk out the door reminds me of her and for a moment the essence of her is there, in my entrance way. It fades a little as I back the car out and head into the morning traffic but a small slither remains with me for a couple of hours.

Wearing a piece of clothing that belonged to a loved friend or a family member always charms me. I have a jumper my husband once owned that I still wear occasionally. I wore it sometimes when he was alive because I liked the colour but it fits me better now because I am a larger size.

The jumper has followed me around for years. I have forgotten about it and then found it tucked away in the back of a cupboard and moved it forward to wear again.

I know everyone doesn’t feel like this but I believe wearing something of a loved one who has died gives us a little bit of them back. We grab a small piece of them when we slip into it and the person seeps into the fore front of our mind. It keeps these loved and missed people in my life in a joyous way. There is nothing melancholy in this for me.

Recently a friend showed me a picture of herself at her sister’s memorial service looking stunning in a red dress.

“That was Eve’s favourite red dress,” she said. “I just had to wear it. It was as if she was there with me” I’m sure if Eve was looking down at the service she would’ve smiled. My friend still wears the dress sometimes and I’m sure she will never throw it away.

I put the fawn rain coat to front of my winter clothes. I may need it on a wet summer day. And as I write this I think of my friend and absorb again all the good things she gave to our friendship.




Lavender for love and this wonderful hanging basket shows how you can create beauty in our hot dry climate.

Christmas Traditions

We had Christmas Dinner along side two enormous tomatoes plants. Had I realized how big they were and how they formed the background for dinner I might have decorated them with silver balls and coloured lights. As it was they were decorated with little round green tomatoes and the insignificant yellow flowers tomatoes produce.

It got me thinking about Christmas traditions. We hear about a ‘Traditional Christmas’ it has become as much of a catch phrase as ‘Working Families”. Both meaningless.

I come from a very small family. In such a family if the members aren’t available tradition falls by the wayside. There is also the fact that in a small family one person’s preference or vote carries a lot of weight. For example I am the only person who likes the traditional English Christmas pudding. There is no point in me sitting in solitary splendor at the Christmas table being watched as I eat it. I’m better to wait until after Christmas and indulge myself when the prices drop.

I have read about Christmases where people converge from near and far. They rush home laughing and smiling in expectation of mince pies, turkey, pork, cranberry sauce, apple sauce, sausage stuffing, Christmas pudding, brandy sauce, truffles etc etc. All this served up with goodwill and joyous reunions.

I remember a Christmas, when my son was young and not long before my father died, when we had Christmas lunch at my home. We sang some carols, mainly because my son had learned some at his church school. My father had a good light tenor and knew the words. My son sang along with him, very pleased to have brought something from school home and to find his Grandfather was up with it all. This could have become a tradition – a few carols with a glass of bubbly. It didn’t, because without my father there was no one to lead them.

Traditions can start with the simplest things. Last year it was cold and we ate inside and one guest volunteered to shell all the prawns. She very kindly and lovingly volunteered again this year. Now, that’s a tradition that I believe should become an unchangeable part of our Christmas !

I am grateful for all the wonderful Christmases I have had in Australia. I have learned a lot over the years and I believe Christmas is what you make of it with the resources available to you on the day.

We should let the spirit of love and contentment seep into us and leave us grateful and relaxed with whatever the day brings. With all this talk of traditions and the building-up of expectations that are often unrealistic the day can fall flat and leave a residue of disappointment and depression.

My recent Christmases have been full of love and happiness but next year – next year is unknown. I will be grateful for whatever comes my way. And I will remember Christmas 2007 as one of the good ones.