Warp & Weft - Memoirs of a Gym Frock

By Judy Crowe


I love dress up parties! Recently I attended a friend’s 30th birthday party which had directives to dress up in clothes from the Woodstock era.

I took myself back to 1969 and realised that the hippie period had passed me by as my life was centred on doing well at school by setting myself rigid, pedantic goals. Any spare time that I had was spent minding younger siblings and cleaning the accommodation facilities and waiting on tables in the hotel that my parents owned.

Anyone close to me knows that I am a minimalist, pass-it-on person when it comes to clothes. So it was only due to the ingenuity of my youngest daughter that a navy blue, woollen gym frock from my convent school days at Mercy College in Timaru had been kept.

There I stood in front of a full length mirror, decked out in a gym frock, white shirt, blue striped tie, black tights, and lace up shoes reminiscent of 40 years ago. With minimal rummaging I had managed to find a school photo from the same year.

With a deep breath (followed by a long sigh) I took myself in. I mused that even having birthed six babies, my body – by either good luck or good management … or perhaps a bit of both – had still retained its youthful slimness. My hair, though, was strikingly different, having turned from a rich chestnut brown with an auburn cast to a salient, silver platinum blonde.

However, as I gazed closer at the photo and the mirror, I saw some more subtle changes. The photo depicted a timid perfectionist with a strained face, a repressed smile, and a body weighed down by the unpredictability of life in a home dominated by alcoholism and a school life lived in fear of the frequently abusive nuns.

While the mirror reflected an older face there was evidence of a gentleness generated by crinkled laughter lines. My soft green eyes had a sparkle that was seldom seen in my youth. My body demonstrated strength and flexibility, fuelled by a tacit joy and a compassionate wisdom unearthed from exposure to the paradoxes of life.

As I headed out to the party I felt like one of the girls, one who spent forbidden time behind the bike sheds having fun. The nuns used to say those girls were on their way to hell. It had taken me some years to realise that they had it all wrong.

Living life to its ripened fullness is what we are here for. Dressing up – whether for parties or everyday life – is one of those delights that remind us it is possible to experience heaven on earth.