My fondest memory of my mother is standing by her side while she dressed for special occasions. The space between her and myself, is where I came of age.
My mother’s dresser had three large mirrors so she could view her profile. She never walked away from it until she was satisfied. A light touch of make up, jewellery, (always real jewellery), her hair a low chignon. Her back was straight, her shoulders relaxed. A light spray of perfume. She was ready for the world. With one final look, she would say with conviction, “make-up should enhance, not detract”. I would watch her walk out the door in awe.
The message of my mother’s lecture still makes sense.
Would a plain cockatoo look as spectacular?
Until next time,
a dawn bird