Painting by Edward Hopper, 1927
My father had season opera tickets for two. Sometimes he would invite me. I always wore my special opera dress, sewn by my mother of dark blue crepe de chine. It had tiny pleats in the bodice and to make it even more special, she had affixed antique, hand made lace to collar and cuffs. My father wore his only suit, a black suit made for him by our village tailor.
We would arrive early. To get to the Opera House we had to take the train to the city. On the way my father would explain the opera we were about to see. This time it was Gounod's Faust, a pretty heady story for an 8-year-old.
While waiting for the opera to begin, my Father wanted to know what made this occasion so special? What did I think? I mentioned the fine opera house. NO. The beautiful architecture. NO. The finely carved and gilded decorations. No. The plush, red velvet seats. No. The sound of the orchestra tuning their instruments. No. the hushed conversations. NO.
Everyone was dressed in their finery? OHHHH, YES, of course, that's it. Everyone dressed in their finery, that is what makes this occasion so special.
I wonder what ever happened to my special opera dress?
Gina
partial repost
