Fashion Critic Cat

Roberta Beach - Karpathos, Greece, Greece
Entered on August 21, 2007
Age Group: 50 - 65
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Were the good old days so good after all? We threw away and threw away, never considering what might be healthy for our planet. Paper dresses were all the rage in 1968 and as soon as I trimmed the hem of my instant dress with the kitchen scissors, I put on my fashion statement and dashed across the street to show my best friend.

Barbie was impressed with my crinkly A-line dress, but her Siamese cat was even more impressed. Rama, who normally treated me with indifference, was all over my mod apparel. Rama parked herself in my lap and drooled all over my paper dress. Then she started licking it.

Minutes earlier, I hadn’t even been aware I had a new dress. Mom had surprised me. She’d bought us matching psychedelic-print orange dresses at a grocery store, a one-size-fits-all trend costing a dollar a piece (and you could even get a tablecloth to match). It was considered ultra-modern

fashion, very hip, good enough for the likes of star model Twiggy. Mom handed me my dress-in-a-tube and busied herself with putting away the groceries.

Almost from the moment of my arrival at Barbie’s house, I could see my pop-art creation starting to show signs of disintegrating. It appeared Rama’s claws didn’t want to separate from me – ever. As long as she could lick and claw (and occasionally nibble on) my dress, she was one happy kitty. Maye she enjoyed the sound the paper made as she kneaded on it or maybe she was amused I was parading around the neighborhood in a gigantic paper towel.

Today it seems terribly frivolous and selfish, the concept of throw-away clothing. Back then, the idea was you wore it once and disposed of it. Thanks to Rama, I barely got the chance to wear it once. When I reappeared in my living room, my mother was busy cutting her orange dress to the proper

length. I stood there, in shreds, no longer a trendy fashion statement.