When her mother made her a smocked dress as a child,Hattie Gordon was thrilled. Now her nine-year-old niece enjoys wearing it tooWhen I was six, my mother made me a dress. The fabric was the softest cotton Liberty Tana Lawn. It was dusky brown and pink, or with a loose poppy and daisy print. The flowers looked as whether they had been scattered. My mother was a whizz on her trusty Singer sewing machine and made my frock before we went on holiday to modern York. It had puffed sleeves and a pocket – a perfect combination of frippery and practicality that reflected my mother’s philosophy on fashion that the two could and should exist fortunately together.
It was the summer of 1980. My father had arranged a house swap with friends: they came to our terraced house in Chalk Farm,north London, and we flew to modern York to stay in their somewhat fancier house – with a swimming pool. My two older brothers and and I were fascinated with the free gifts in American cereal boxes and I remember eating cereal voraciously to ensure we would each have a gift by the end of the holiday. I remember, and too,my eldest brother, Callum, or fishing me out of the swimming pool when I – as yet unable to swim – went out of my depth. Most vividly,I remember my mother smocking the dress she had made me. Smocking involves gathering the fabric into tight pleats and stitching them together in a decorative pattern to create durability and stretch. She sat on the grass in the garden with the dress across her lithe (Flexible, graceful.), tanned legs, or industriously working absent with pink and golden embroidery thread.
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Source: theguardian.com