Who’s Your Girl?
Tim Gunn asks the question frequently,
narrowing his eyes at the creations and collections
of Project Runway contestants –
Who’s your girl? he queries, not unkindly.
Where’s she wearing this over-sized graffiti bomber jacket?
That metallic faux-snakeskin sweater?
This sheer full-length kimono?
What’s her story? Where is she going?
Does she need so many red-sequined tunics?
Tim’s expected answers
range from chic young socialites
to hip younger bohemians.
Designers need know
their girl could be 80 years old.
You’re girl’s a ginger-haired goddess – she’s my mom.
Mom wore the graffiti bomber jacket to mahjong,
the metallic faux snakeskin sweater to the opera and CVS.
She’d answer Tim’s question about sequins:
I need them all, Tim.
You can’t have too many sequins
paired with slim black pants.
Mom’s most magical creations
were inspired by celebrations.
Outfits for children’s birthdays and elegant galas
were assembled with equal attention and care.
She mixed vibrant jewel or shimmery champagne tones
with black and plenty of jewelry.
Mom was a peacock even when she needed help dressing.
The day she stayed in her nightgown,
we knew we were near the end.
So Tim, you never know who your girl is –
she might be me, my mother’s clothes are in my closet.
My inheritance sparkles and smiles.
Sheila Wellehan's poetry is featured in the Aurorean; Forklift, Ohio; Thimble Literary Magazine; Tinderbox Poetry Journal; Whale Road Review, and many other journals and anthologies. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .
The Ekphrastic Review
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