My mother made my first pair of long trousers. They were white flannel for wearing at the local annual church bazaar and open-air carnival, where I was to be allowed to take tickets on the merry-go-round. Those homemade trousers didn’t seem to fit or appear as well, nor was the flannel of the same quality, as the shop-bought ready-made versions of white flannels I saw on other boys. I was crestfallen and my day at the carnival spoiled. The long hours of my mother’s labour and love went unappreciated, until now as I look back upon it. How sad that we can’t know what we know until we know it. I wonder if the appearance of my name on so many best-dressed lists is a consequence of the boyish shame from wearing those homemade flannel trousers.
Beautifully put… Still the best dressed. And he didn’t have a stylist or designers sending him free clothes.
(Source: elleryqueen, via thomasdestry)
