Polka-Dot Dress

from Still Life at Eighty: The Next Interesting Thing, published by Scribner 11/19/24

Curled up on the loveseat on a chilly spring day, seventy nine years old, I am wearing an undershirt, two sweaters, my purple jacket, warm pajamas. my new cozy socks, and on top of everything, a blanket. I’m also standing on the median at Broadway and 112th, waiting for the light to change. It’s the summer of 1978, I am thirty-seven, and a middle aged woman has just spoken to me in a low voice, saying, “You don’t have a stitch on underneath that dress, do you?” It isn’t an accusation, she isn’t scolding me. She’s a co-conspirator. I don’t remember what I said, but I’m sure I grinned. I remember that dress. It was red with tiny black polka-dots and it buttoned down the front. I bought it at Liberty House, my favorite store, long gone now. Why on earth has this particuar memory popped into my head? No idea. But I’m an old woman now with too many clothes on, and I’m going to spend a little time remembering that dress, when I wore it and where I took it off. It’s a lazy afternoon. I’ve got nothing better to do.