#67: Tea Time
If you’re ever in Boulder City, Nevada, because you might be, I suggest you stop into the Boulder City Antique Mall on the one main road that runs through the town. You won’t be sorry. And if you’re ever in Boulder City, Nevada, let me know and I’ll set you up with my mom for the grand tour. You won’t be sorry.
Despite my “tough girl” exterior–yeah, right–I’ve always wanted my life to be a little bit more like an E.M. Forster novel; I’ve always wanted to be invited to tea and go to garden parties, to play tennis on the lawn, have a laugh over crumpets and furrow my brow at the slightest breeze. Not really—I think I prefer dirty jeans and BBQs. But I have always wanted an Edwardian lawn dress, just for good measure, so to be primed and ready to realize halfhearted daydreams in historically accurate garb. (Minus the requisite bloomers and 7lbs of underwear. Got to admit it’s getting better all the time.)
And so I found this simple beauty just sitting and waiting for me in a small town in Nevada just outside of Las Vegas. 100 years old, in beautiful condition, and a perfect fit. Maybe I’ll throw my own garden party.
Lawn dresses were worn by Edwardian birds to the solarium (I’ll stipulate here that my next Brooklyn flat will have a solarium) or to porch parties and picnics. They were designed to display ladylike charms, and usually worn with a colorful ribbon tied at the waist. The intricacies, paneling, and fine lacework determined societal status– maybe my simple dress belonged to a down home country gal, then, who preferred romps by the pond to strolls beneath a parasol. The lawn dress was a staple in the Edwardian lady’s wardrobe and worn for socializing, very important business back then. For the sake of conversation, let’s liken it to a modern day power pantsuit– but for the sake of our grandchildren here’s hoping the pantsuit legacy doesn’t live on…
sweet cotton linen, 100+ years old. How romantic.