We enjoyed two lively meetings in November sharing our stories about an item of clothing we’d each brought with us, chosen for their special significance. There was so much to talk about! In the second session, we joined a larger group of people in an event forming part of the Being Human Festival, led by Jolene Sheehan, Professor Sophie Woodward (University of Manchester) and Doctor Benjamin Wild (Manchester Metropolitan University). A fuller description of the event and more photographs are available in a news item about the event on the University of Manchester’s web page.
Photographs courtesy of the University of Manchester
Read on to discover some of the writing inspired by the first workshop.
Jolene Sheehan
This piece came together from a list of phrases shared during our workshop. Each line is woven from the memories and stories that participant’s shared as we talked about the clothes that hold parts of who we are. Together, I hope these words capture a glimpse into the lives we’ve lived, as well as the kind of rich conversations we have during the sessions.
We open the doors and are greeted by a giant flock of moths,
leaving holes in jumpers, tears in beautiful frocks.
Through those gaps, light seeps through,
showing all the things we’ve experienced.
There’s the ritual of Sunday best,
that feeling of power tested
through leopard skin shorts, lime green boots.
There's some musical braces that play the songs of friends.
There are curtains and tablecloths repurposed,
a traitor horse made from a dress,
and a uniform, perfectly kept—
though some say we have too much time on our hands,
really,we just have high standards.
There’s a hug in a waistcoat that brings mum close,
Grandma’s jumpers, threadbare but still warm.
Dreams visit too, in the hunt for perfect jeans
or a high-tech gilet fit for any weather,
and sometimes even thoughts of what we might be buried in.
Something to stand out or show where we belong?
Our wardrobes are a theatre of stories,
each piece performing old identities and memories,
echoing the lives we’ve lived and moments we’ve shared.
Jane Graham
The Rainbow Message
I am a skein of red wool. I lie curled up in a basket with other skeins each a lovely colour. Happy humans surround me. One of them takes me up and holds me between her two hands. It feels lovely to be held stretched by her hands. Another human, full of laughter finds my end piece, I think that should be beginning piece and starts rolling me up until my lovely soft length has been made into a ball. I feel so tight and restricted. I am hoping that life is not long going to stay like this. I have no choice, however, but to lie in the basket and watch all the colourful skeins being made into balls and wondering if I will just be an ornamental basket of coloured wools, only existing to watch the world beyond my basket. It does not seem to me to be enough.
Suddenly, I am taken up and attached to a piece of wood. Another piece of wood moves and I find myself growing between them. How strange! Always around me is the happy laughing group, often singing about a world where everyone lives happily with each other and the world is kept clean and healthy for all things that have life and is shared by all. When the pieces of wood come my end I am attached to another colour and the pieces of wood keep up the rhythm of making. I think, that’s interesting. When will all this end and what for? I love the feeling of moving to and fro as all the coloured balls are used up. I look at myself and think how lovely I am. I have grown from a single skein now attached to others into a lovely togetherness. Soft, smooth, warm and beautiful. I like this life! Life doesn’t stop though. Now I am folded and a piece of metal is used to sew my edges together. It feels strange but I am comfortable with it. Suddenly I am picked up and put on the head of a laughing human. Cheers and clapping mixed with the laughter is all around me. I feel so proud. Now I know that I was meant to be just what and where I am.
But No! That was only the beginning! Now I was always with one person. On her head, in her bag, in her pocket, always there amidst the laughter. Suddenly I realised that we were somewhere different, outside day and night, and I was always on her head looking at trees, birds, flowers. At night the stars shone in the smooth blue silence. Singing, always singing,
All the humans wanted was a world of love and peace for their children.
I was so proud that I was a hat that kept her warm and active as she spent her days with the rainbow message.
Jean Thompson
What a joyful session this was. So many stories of favourite items of clothing, either bought for a special occasion, or made by a special person; it was an uplifting experience. I had broken the rules a little bit because I had taken along two pieces of clothing, not one, but in a way they were linked in my life story, and linked in the story of the 1970s.
To start with, there was my first ‘posh frock’. I had bought it to go to a Christmas event at Tatton Hall with my work colleagues at the end of 1969. I had only recently started going out with my boyfriend (later to become my husband) who had just finished University that year, and really wasn’t into posh dressing. But we were young (quite) and it didn’t seem to matter to either of us that we were not quite matched in formal elegance. The dress has survived and one or two people commented on the label which still looks very reminiscent of 1970s labels like Biba. Mine was a much cheaper look alike.
The other dress was from 1971 the year we got married. Quite a story behind this one too. In those days it was either church or register office, and as we were not church goers, the latter it was. If you chose a Saturday, it had to be done before 12 o’clock, and there was a limit on guests. So at 11.30 with just close family we were married at Altrincham Register Office, long since gone, me in a pale pink suit and large brimmed white straw hat. We went around the corner to the Railway Inn in Altrincham and had sandwiches and a drink. Then our respective families went home and my new husband and I got on a bus in all our wedding outfits (with flower button holes) to go into Manchester where we were meeting my very good friend who was coming up from Norwich by train.
My friend and I went back to my parent’s house, and my husband back to his, (Fortunately we did not live far from each other). A couple of hours chatting and then I got changed into my dress for the evening festivities, with many more family and friends. Lots of people commented that although this was a rather unusual way to conduct a wedding day, they were also quite impressed with the sensibleness of breaking it up like this.
The link between these two dresses were that they both saw a ‘growing up’ from the rather hippy years of the 1960s to when we began to become slightly more conforming members of society!
Tony Goulding
The two sessions this month were a fascinating look at the significance of clothing. How it tells the world something but also how an item of clothing can also have a personal meaning for the wearer through its backstory. A clothing choice may reveal a desire to conform and adhere to cultural norms as in the case of some Muslim women; alternatively, it may be an act of rebellion as seen in Punk, Goth, and other styles associated with youth culture. The most obvious information given from a person’s apparel is the use of uniform, but it is also noticeable how wearers of uniform often try to accessorize or otherwise alter the uniform to express their individuality. Another way what we wear reveals something about us is the wearing of sporting teams emblems on the team’s shirt or other clothing items. In a similar vein music fans often wear merchandise of their favourite singer or group. This public identification by badges and motifs has a long history stretching back to Medieval battles in which each side would wear distinguishing features to indicate friend or foe; most famously during the Wars of the Roses in fifteenth century England, when the House of York wore white roses and the House of Lancaster wore red roses. Tragically, the Nazis also used this aspect to identify Jews and others by a yellow Star of David and other symbols.
What was particularly interesting was how often an item of clothing was kept in a drawer or wardrobe and never or rarely worn but would never be discarded due to it evoking a treasured memory. That may be of a first date, a wedding day or other event, a souvenir of a special place or having been lovingly created by a friend or relative. As is the case with the jumper I am modelling in this picture which was knitted by my grandmother some 40+ years ago.
The Stories of Our Lives 