I remember it clearly – a rickety, white chest of drawers which my mum kept in the room right at the top of our house. The room that led directly to our roof. It is the room where the laundry gets washed and families store their odds and ends. And their memories. I suppose it’s the closest thing we have to an attic. Which brings me back to the old chest of drawers. It was just an old piece of furniture that nobody needed anymore; full of clothes from the 60s and early 70s. But to a little girl, it was a treasure trove.
Image Source: Chic Furniture
During July and August, when the heat was almost tangible, my parents would take a well-deserved siesta. But I could never sleep. Instead I would make my way up to our room on the roof. I cannot even begin to describe how hot it would be up there in the early afternoon – a harsh, scorching heat. But all I cared about was the white chest of drawers and the plethora of clothes which I could dress up in. I remember the colourful shirts, the frills, the flounces, the long, long dresses, the flared pants. I could be anything I wanted to be – a princess, a gypsy or a clown and I spent many summer afternoons up there surrounded by clothes that nobody wanted anymore. It was a time of make-believe, of fantasy and fairy-tales and of complete childhood innocence.
Over the years the clothes were thrown out but I can still remember some of them as clearly as if I had worn them yesterday. Seeing the current fad with all things 70s I sometimes wonder how many of those vintage items would have found their way into my wardrobe.