The change of seasons means one thing: that ritual of bringing the fall clothes out of the attic and replacing them with the summer clothes. (And hoping they fit.) Even though it is still hot as heck outside, the calendar says it is past Labor Day and down here one wouldn't be caught dead in white (even very light beige) or pastels and if you have on navy, it best not have white trim. The trick is finding fall colors in light weight sweaters, so being proper doesn't kill you.
My Aunt Kat was a fashionable lady in her day (gloves, hat, the whole ensemble), but as she got older her daily activity limited her wardrobe. Now what does a fashion conscious lady do at this point? You don't get outside so you can't talk anyone into letting you get new clothes each season. Even playing Bingo, you can't justify a new purse. Because you are mainly restricted to a wheelchair and when you can walk, your walking is limited, they make you wear those God forsaken SAS shoes.
Now Aunt Kat was not going to defeated here so she calls me up one September afternoon and says she needs to go shoe shopping. "Shoe shopping?" I say, knowing we just bought her SAS shoes this summer and they can't have that much wear, since her walking is so limited. "Well, it's fall and the shoes we bought this summer are white." She had a point, I couldn't argue with her on that one. So off we went to the SAS store. (Which, if you don't know stands for San Antonio Shoemakers.) We came home with a new pair of brown shoes, exactly like the white ones, just in a stylist fall color. She was thrilled. And, it was nice to see her happy.
In December, I got another call. "It's time to get shoes." I knew where this was going. So off we went on an excursion - you guessed it - to the SAS store for a black pair for the winter. She was happy and I knew she now had her complete shoe wardrobe.
Well, that was until just before Easter, when I got another call. "We need to go shopping." Knowing that she had white shoes from the year before, I was curious what this adventure would be about. "For what?", I asked. "My spring shoes", she answered. Thinking she was getting forgetful, I gently reminded her that she already had white shoes. She quickly reminded me they were from last summer. So off we went to the SAS store for a new pair of white shoes, same size, same style. I came home with a happy camper and put the shoe box in the closet on top of the SAS box from the past summer. And so it went, each season, we would go to that store and get a new pair.
It was a joy to spend time with her and it just goes to show, we can age, we can grow infirm, but no true southern woman is ever too old for a new pair of shoes.