I wasted a lot of time today looking through this 1969 Vogue. The model on the cover reminds me of my friend Christine's mom in the early 70's. I thought she was the perfect mother always with her hair done up, giving piano lessons in their perfect house. I even remember her vacuuming in her gorgeous clothing. She would send us to the basement & lock the door when she had a lesson. I loved it though, because their house was like a castle to me with a stone circular tower in the center. The tower extended into the basement, where the girls had a playhouse.
It was probably the first time I had ever had real fudge, made with real butter. Christine kept saying "Isn't this the best fudge? The secret is to use real butter." I really almost couldn't eat it because of the richness. I seriously never had food like that at home.
My life was completely different from Christine's. Where she only had 1 sibling, I had seven. Our house was probably 1/4 the size of theirs. A room of my own....never! New clothes to wear, no...only hand-me-downs. A mother who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover....I don't think so! I remember looking into my moms closet and she only had 3 dresses. One of them being a maternity dress.
Both of our dads worked for the same publishing company and both were handsome men. I think my dad may have even had a higher position. Why was her life so picture book perfect and mine was the struggling, crowded, under-fed household?
I'm really not complaining. I am grateful and happy for the times I got to spend the night at Christine's house. The memories are vividly burned into my brain. Mrs. O, I think you were the woman I aspired to be.
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