The Life Box (Part 28)

I used to sew many of clothes. It seemed like everyone sewed in the 1970s. It was easy to find fashionable patterns, and there was a fabric store in nearly every shopping mall. Mom and I sewed the ensembles we wore during our European vacation, and I later sewed the garments I packed for my trip to Stuttgart. I think I sewed every bridesmaid gown I wore. Oh golly, I once even sewed a swimsuit.

I saved many of the sewing patterns I used. I was looking today for the pattern for my senior-prom dress, but I could not find it. It was a wraparound halter dress that I made in a silver fabric. I intended to show the pattern to Mom because I wondered if she'd now think the dress was too risqué. It didn't seem daring in 1975 or 1976. (This is not the pattern, but it is very close to it.)

I did find several other patterns from that era, so I wonder if I didn't lend the wraparound halter-dress pattern to someone. I recall I went through a "Cossack phase" during which I sewed many billowy blouses and dresses. I still have those patterns. Here's one:

I made a grey blouse out of the pattern, and I sewed a pink and grey bias-plaid, A-line skirt to match.

I even wore that outfit to a school dance:

Suburban Chicago, January 1975. Dad catches me before the party.

Nutcracker Reunion

Chicago, Illinois, December 1966. We're enjoying the performance.

The Life Box (Part 1)

I though I'd lost the programs from the Rudolph Nureyev performance I attended with my Godmother. I recall having lent the programs to a dear, high-school friend, and I did not remember whether she returned them. She's a do-the-right-thing kind of person—always has been—so it was hard to imagine she didn't give it them back to me.

 

She did return them; I just forgot where they were. 

 

Mr. Irene and I each have "life boxes." The life boxes are oversized plastic bins into which we drop mementos. My life box contains ticket stubs, prom dance cards, menus from restaurants, a little wooden boat Dad carved, an empty can of vending-machine juice that I once threw at a boyfriend when I still lived in Sherman Hall, my First Communion rosary, the tail of a squirrel that Meškė brought home, a few political buttons, and so on. I rifled through the life box last weekend when I wanted to pull out that Verona Morning Star project. At the bottom of the box was a bag in which I'd stored programs and Playbills. 

 

There were the Nureyev programs. I was delighted to see that my Godmother had taken my to see Nureyev not once, but twice.

 

 

Lyric Opera House, Chicago, Illinois, April 7, 1973. I'd forgotten about this performance.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Lyric Opera House, Chicago, Illinois, March 23, 1974. By the time I saw this performance, I wanted an autograph. This was the free program all audience members received.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Lyric Opera House, Chicago, Illinois, March 23, 1974. This was the glossy program my Godmother bought for me. I took it to the stage door after the show. I met Mr. Nureyev, but he declined to sign my program. *Whimpers.*

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Lyric Opera House, Chicago, Illinois, March 23, 1974.  Here's my ticket stub and some newspaper clippings. "Admission $7.50."

 

The performance was "Giselle:"

 

 

Goodnight, Swan.

Maria Tallchief has died. Tallchief served as ballet director of the Lyric Opera during the era when my Parents sometimes bought season tickets.

 

Here's Tallchief in a duet with my favorite dancer, Rudolf Nureyev, as Nureyev made his American debut:

"Galloping in Grand Central"

"Heard NY" is not the usual flash mob.