The Night Gown

One of my favourite passages of all time is in a book called 'Further Foolishness' by Stephen Leacock. He was a guy with a degree in political science who used to write little pieces (for lack of a better word) criticising everybody. This was around the turn of the century so, his ideas are quite out of date, but he wrote a piece called 'Snoopopathic Literature' condemning author's for writing only about senses instead of specifics, and using 2000 words to describe something that could be more than adequately revealed in one sentence. This is the paragraph I think is the most funny.

It is peculiar about The Woman [in the story] is that she never seems to wear a _dress_--always a "gown." Why this is, I cannot tell. In the good old stories that I used to read, when I could still read for the pleasure of it, the heroines --that was what they used to be called--always wore dresses. But now there is no heroine, only a woman in a gown. I wear a gown myself--at night. It is made of flannel and reaches to my feet, and when I take my candle and go out to the balcony where I sleep, the effect of it on the whole is not bad. But as to its "revealing every line of my figure"--as The Woman's gown is always said to--and as to its "suggesting even more than it reveals"--well, it simply does _not_. So when I talk of "gowns" I speak of something that I know all about.

Maybe it's that I picture the most crotchety grouchy old man imaginable writing this paragraph that I find it so amusing - maybe. Anyway, I think it's hillarious. But at the heart of his essay are some really good ideas about plot portrayal and not stretching a story too much.

But I'm getting away from the point of my post. Today, I wanted to write about my nightgowns. I know that it's a far stretch from snoopopathic literature, but the quote popped into my head when I thought about writing about nightgowns. I own three nightgowns. None of them were purchased by myself as I don't wear nightgowns to bed. I only wear them sometimes, when I need something specific from one. Otherwise, I sleep in boxers and a T-shirt. Anyway, I noticed something interesting about them. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be writing this.

The Nightgown from My Mother

The nightgown I got from my mother is one that she used to wear. I can't remember how it ended up in my possessions. I think I was probably complaining that I didn't have one and she probably threw it at me and told me to stop my whining. It's made of yellow flannel, has long sleeves and goes to the floor. It has a couple buttons over one shoulder so that a woman could set her hair in rollers and then still get her nightgown on without disturbing the set. I used to sleep with rags in my hair sometimes, so I found this feature useful on more than one occasion. It also has some lace on it that I've repaired numerous times because over the years - it has really earned a place it my heart.

I wear it when I'm depressed, sad, vulernable and I don't think I can do anything about it. I hate going to bed when something is bothering me. I hate ending a day believing in my heart that I've done something terribly wrong and that there is no way for me to repair it that day. It makes me miserable, and if I didn't have my mother's nightgown to wear, I'd probably come unglued. Those are the kinds of nights I wear my mother's nightgown.

The Nightgown from My Grandmother

When I say my grandmother. Of course I mean my mother's mother. Who's close to their father's mother? Anyway, my grandmother lived down the alley from us while I was growing up and I know her very well. She's a country girl of the first order - meaning that she is practical down to her bones. She picked the nightgown up for me at a 'no cost clothing exchange' that was being hosted by the community. It's too big for me, but it's got a bit of a drawstring on it so that you can do what you like with the neckline and thus the whole shape of the garment. This means that it can be worn off-the-shoulder or not, depending on what you want to do with it. It goes to my knees and is made out of a weave fabric. It's white with the most delightful pink flower pattern on it imaginable.

When do I wear it? Summer time. It's as cute as a sundress.

The Nightgown from my Mother-in-Law

The nightgown from my mother-in-law was sewn by her and her sisters, as well as my best friend from high school. I believe they all worked on it feverously during the hour they had before my bridal shower. It's white with a sheer overlay. It has short sleeves and goes to the floor. It's the sort of thing a person sees in a movie and not in a store. It's very pretty and very much my taste.

But I never wear it and I feel funny about it. It hangs in my closet and I have yet to decide what it means to me. I guess that's for the future. It's feminine. My mother-in-law is much more feminine than I am. Much more so. For some reason I always think of myself as a grubby little kid who cleans up good when necessity demands it. Maybe it's my cue to be a grown up woman ... maybe.

So, there's a tribute to my three nightgowns and the women who gave them to me. It's nice to have a heritage to look back onto.