You may already know this, but I’m slightly obsessed with the 1960s. Just recently I did a 60s-inspired engagement shoot to correspond with my 60s-inspired upcoming wedding in Las Vegas. Something about the fashion of that era has always spoken to me. Quite likely, this fascination is inspired by my grandmother whom I always wished I had been closer to.
Wilma Sue Farr was a child of The Great Depression. She grew up on dirt floors, was one of who-knows-how-many siblings and like most Oklahomans, had a strong line of Native American blood running through her. Although she was blessed with deep olive skin, she just looked “dark” to a distant and disapproving mother.
Like most survivors of the Depression, she was frugal. The first purchase she and her husband, Ben Longstreath, made together was a “set” of silverware – 2 forks, 2 spoons and 2 knives. But once, in a moment of vulnerable spontaneity, she came home driving a brand new pink Cadillac. It was promptly returned the next day.
Left, Wilma Sue sporting a bold print and giving her best skeptic face; right, she’s wearing a crisp, ivory shift and flashing a mischievous smile.
Wilma – or “Susie” as my grandpa would always call her – always had a striking quality about her, but really hit her personal style stride in her mid-thirties. That happened to land right in the middle of what would become my favorite fashion era, the late 60s. For a simple Oklahoma housewife, she had amazing fashion sense; the woman loved bold prints and statement accessories.
We never enjoyed a close relationship; perhaps being a mother of two boys and a lifetime of strained relations with her own mother made bonding with women difficult. But when I was a girl, we shared a few moments over fashion. On summer days when school was out and the babysitter was unavailable, she would take me (her only grand-daughter) into her closet to proudly show off her favorite styles from a bygone fashion hey-day.
Candy-colored handbags, rhinestone-embellished pumps and colorful knit dresses were all organized with meticulous care. Surely, she would want me to have these, I thought at that young age. But later I was devastated to find she’d donated every bit after moving from her long-time home. The last pieces of anything we’d shared together, tossed out and gone forever.
As I close in on my own nuptials, I realize I’ll never have the relationship with her that I always wanted, but I continue to nurture my own, inner Wilma Sue who loves making a statement with fashion. I may not have the heirlooms I’d wished for, so I’ve decided to build a collection of my own.
Below is my fashion ode to my dear grandmother. How I wish I knew her back then.
Click the image for fashion credits …
