Dress, Memory

Image from www.dressmemory.com

In a time of fast fashion, when clothes come cheaply and are readily disposed of in favour of next season’s trend, Lorelai Vashti’s attachment to her collection of dresses is unique. As her memoir, Dress, Memory so masterfully shows, it is also worth writing about.

The relationship Vashti has with her large collection of dresses is a complex one: they are the reminders of selves past, each one with memories sewn into its seams, inseparable from the fine stitches that hold them together. Even the signs of wear are precious. It was in her twenties that Vashti began building her collection, made up largely of second-hand treasures and hand-me-downs, as a way to control her anxiety, so it is only fitting that it is these years that she explores in her memoir.

Each chapter in the book constitutes a year in Vashti’s twenties, and each year is represented by a dress. These dresses bare witness to her most pivotal moments during this time, each moment unashamedly divulged in Vashti’s distinct voice. Stylised glossy photographs of Vashti in each of the dresses provide a welcome visual reference for each chapter, but due to their position in the centre of the book, do occasionally lead to tiresome flipping back and forth. The dresses prove a clever tool to unify the story, but are not each chapter’s main focus, nor is this memoir a lesson in learning to part with material possessions, which its blurb does hint at. It is, rather, an endearing, though occasionally frustrating, coming-of-age story from a woman who gradually grows into herself, without ever claiming to have all the answers.

Accurately captured and articulated throughout the book is the reinvention that occurs during one’s twenties, the incessant seeking of meaning and the deep-seated need to forge one’s identity and ‘become someone who…[has] direction’. It is these intimate admissions, coupled with Vashti’s honed storytelling prowess and good humour, that gain her a vested reader. Storytelling and reflection are well balanced ensuring that the book moves along at an entertaining pace, but not at the expense of heart.

Unfortunately, the writing occasionally suffers from a slightly heavy hand, erring on melodramatic with observations that ring false some of the time. But given the period of life being written about—one not without its drama—this can be overlooked. The ending of a memoir is always difficult because it is understood that the story continues for the author after the final page. With this in mind, the ending of Vashti’s memoir may leave some readers unsatisfied with its constructed neatness.

Despite its flaws, Dress, Memory is, most importantly, relatable. Vashti’s stories, inseparable from her dresses, are uniquely her own, but her feelings of fear, uncertainty and growth are universal. It is her honesty and demonstrated capacity to get up and brush herself off time and time again that promise to be the reader’s last impression. And while no great revelations are forthcoming, there is comfort to be had in reading about the highs and lows of someone else’s twenties and the dresses that bore witness.