Linda
This One is About A Friend
For Promnight & Funerals
I always had a deep connection to my grandma. Sure, most people do, but ours was special.We used to live in the same house, and I spent nearly every day of my childhood by her side. We were close like best friends and our bond grew stronger day by day.
When she passed away in 2008, my world collapsed. I lost a big part of my childhood and one of the people I loved most.
When I think about her, I think of the great times and lovely moments we shared, but also, I remember all the things she showed me as well as what she taught me subconsciously. I can still see her in my mind’s eye: Her black bob, her dark hazel eyes surrounded by fine laugh lines and her soft smile, always ready to burst into fits of giggles. Also, I remember her incredible sense of style and how much she loved it when I was dressed elegantly. She was always the embodiment of a classy lady – chic, modern, feminine, and petite. Nowadays, one would might call her a feminist forerunner, but actually, she just had a damn good sense of style and was ahead of her time. She wore items like tight leather pants combined with an elegant blouse, while most other women her age even refused to wear pants instead of skirts at all.
The older I got, the more I understood what her style was about. Even if my personal look is very different from hers, I always wanted to wear her clothes. My grandmother was a petite person, so unfortunately, I never fit into any of her dresses. As much as I wanted to, I never could, so it was nearly impossible for me to re-use any of her clothes.
When I was about fifteen years old, my parents allowed me to go to my first prom and as proms in Austria are often the biggest events of the season, this was quite a big deal for me. I was pretty nervous the day before, but aside from my trembling legs, I felt great. I was proud to finally be part of a night like this and I kind of felt like I could rule the world in my evening gown. My outfit was nearly perfect, the only problem was my non-existing purse.
So, my mom went up to the attic and had a look through my grandmother’s endless collection of elegant gowns and chic outfits, through all of the garments I always wanted to bring back to life, but was never able to. I still do not know if my mom intentionally chose exactly this item: A small black handbag, with an even smaller golden buckle and a thin black strap. Even if it was a timeless piece, suitable for every outfit and every occasion, my grandmother only wore it for funerals.So, the purse was kind of a constant companion for every funeral she went to.
When my mom showed me the purse, I had a typical teenage-reaction. Even though I had not had a closer look, I hated it. The reason was simple: My mom told me to carry it, and of course, you cannot wear whatever your mom gives you…
…But after about 10 minutes and a lot of thoughts running through my head later, I grabbed the purse and totally fell in love with it.
A Reminder
Linda loves the little black purse not because of its shape, nor because of its color.
She fell in love with the purse, because it reminds her of her grandma. Of her waking down the cemetery at every funeral she went to, the little black purse right in her hands.
Since her first promnight, she has never been at a prom, nor at a funeral without the little black purse.
With a proud feeling of taking a piece of her grandmother’s soul to the most beautiful nights and to the saddest moments. And proud to keep her alive in a different way.
Linda loves the little black purse not because of its shape, or colour.
Linda
This One is About A Friend
For Promnights & Funerals
I always had a deep connection to my grandma. Sure, most people do, but ours was special.We used to live in the same house, and I spent nearly every day of my childhood by her side. We were close like best friends and our bond grew stronger day by day.
When she passed away in 2008, my world collapsed. I lost a big part of my childhood and one of the people I loved most.
When I think about her, I think of the great times and lovely moments we shared, but also, I remember all the things she showed me as well as what she taught me subconsciously. I can still see her in my mind’s eye: Her black bob, her dark hazel eyes surrounded by fine laugh lines and her soft smile, always ready to burst into fits of giggles. Also, I remember her incredible sense of style and how much she loved it when I was dressed elegantly. She was always the embodiment of a classy lady – chic, modern, feminine, and petite. Nowadays, one would might call her a feminist forerunner, but actually, she just had a damn good sense of style and was ahead of her time. She wore items like tight leather pants combined with an elegant blouse, while most other women her age even refused to wear pants instead of skirts at all.
The older I got, the more I understood what her style was about. Even if my personal look is very different from hers, I always wanted to wear her clothes. My grandmother was a petite person, so unfortunately, I never fit into any of her dresses. As much as I wanted to, I never could, so it was nearly impossible for me to re-use any of her clothes.
When I was about fifteen years old, my parents allowed me to go to my first prom and as proms in Austria are often the biggest events of the season, this was quite a big deal for me. I was pretty nervous the day before, but aside from my trembling legs, I felt great. I was proud to finally be part of a night like this and I kind of felt like I could rule the world in my evening gown. My outfit was nearly perfect, the only problem was my non-existing purse.
So, my mom went up to the attic and had a look through my grandmother’s endless collection of elegant gowns and chic outfits, through all of the garments I always wanted to bring back to life, but was never able to. I still do not know if my mom intentionally chose exactly this item: A small black handbag, with an even smaller golden buckle and a thin black strap. Even if it was a timeless piece, suitable for every outfit and every occasion, my grandmother only wore it for funerals.So, the purse was kind of a constant companion for every funeral she went to.
When my mom showed me the purse, I had a typical teenage-reaction. Even though I had not had a closer look, I hated it. The reason was simple: My mom told me to carry it, and of course, you cannot wear whatever your mom gives you…
…But after about 10 minutes and a lot of thoughts running through my head later, I grabbed the purse and totally fell in love with it.
A Reminder
Linda loves the little black purse not because of its shape, nor because of its color.
She fell in love with the purse, because it reminds her of her grandma. Of her waking down the cemetery at every funeral she went to, the little black purse right in her hands.
Since her first promnight, she has never been at a prom, nor at a funeral without the little black purse.
With a proud feeling of taking a piece of her grandmother’s soul to the most beautiful nights and to the saddest moments. And proud to keep her alive in a different way.
Linda loves the little black purse not because of its shape, or colour.
