My mom wore a uniform for most of the four decades she worked processing payroll and benefits for government employees.
Her office was in a sixties soviet-style building with square glass windows so thick it made your reflection look funny.
Growing up, she worked in the aptly named ‘machine room’, a department that also housed huge IBM data processing machines which literally took up that part of the building.
The offices were always cold because the computers couldn’t stand the heat, so the uniforms were a little warm, but not so much that they’d be uncomfortable outside in the scorching sun.
This dress isn’t quite exactly like my mom’s uniform, the colours aren’t right, hers was a yellowish shirt with a pale blue skirt, yet this dress reminds me of my mom’s uniform for some reason.
Maybe it’s the length of the dress, and how the fabric is a little heavy but soft.
It’s probably the cut of the sleeves, or how overall the dress feels uniform-like.
This got me thinking about uniforms and when you’ve worn them for as long as my mom did, the memories they carry, and how it stays with you; the memories…