That first evening gown was made for me
by a lady who lived down the road.
She sewed for a living – her purse must have been small –
she didn’t charge much for the hours that she spent
measuring, cutting, pinning, tacking, stitching,
ruining her eyes in poor light.
That first evening gown cost Mum four pounds
with dark yellow velour for the boned strapless bodice,
diaphanous lace for the skirt in a pale iridescent shade,
which didn’t go well with my mottled, freckled teenage skin.
The skirt was graceful and swirly, the top close-fitting and sexy
for my first ever evening dance.
That first evening ball was disastrous.
The weather was bitter, the gown no protection.
It was stained later, by a mishap with ink.
The boys weren’t impressed by my innocence
so nobody asked me to dance.
The Whirligig Wordle words (of which I used all but two) were: Shade
stain lace diaphanous clip iridescent mottled weatherdissonant velour purse