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 â€˜machine roomâ€™, 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 couldnâ€™t stand the heat, so the uniforms were a little warm, but not so much that theyâ€™d be uncomfortable outside in the scorching sun.
This dress isnâ€™t quite exactly like my momâ€™s uniform, the colours arenâ€™t right, hers was a yellowish shirt with a pale blue skirt, yet this dress reminds me of my momâ€™s uniform for some reason.
Maybe itâ€™s the length of the dress, and how the fabric is a little heavy but soft.
Itâ€™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…