MARIA WANTS A NEW DRESS

It seemed everywhere I looked in Conakry I saw women dressed in a way that evoked in me “I want that dress.”  The bright colors, the boldness of patterns, the celebration of curves – yes those were dresses that I wanted. 

Most were long sleeved and all to the ground and while form fitting, the women appeared to move without constraint. The cotton batiks allowed for sun protection and breathe-ability.  Most were two pieces, a simple slip-over top with a boat neck, the hem overlapping the skirt with no midriff showing, and a skirt accentuating the hips yet full enough to straddle a basket of oranges waiting to be peeled. There was another more complex design: the bodice having several vertical seams and a back zipper creating a perfectly form fitting silhouette; sometimes the sleeves long and narrow, other time more bell shaped just reaching the triceps; necklines ranged from the base of the throat  to a hint a cleavage.  These skirts took yards of fabric as the seemingly intricate folds around the waist cascaded regally to the ground. 

And as elegant as they were they were also amazingly functional.  These women had babies tied to their backs and incredible loads balanced on their heads.  They climbed in and out of boats with ease.  They squatted, they bent, they cooked, they sold wares. Some dresses had trim or lace adornments, some looked more festive while others quite simple, and I wanted every one of them. 

Headwraps were frequent and spanned a range of looks: a variety of folding techniques, heights and silhouettes; wraps of fabric that were extensions of the dress fabric and others that contrasted.  What they   had in common is that while they looked casually construed I didn't see a single one fall off – not when heavy loads were placed upon or removed from head tops, not when dancing enthusiastically, not when bending and stooping.   The mystery of the gravity defying head wraps is not something I solved – the mystery remains!

As I imagined Maria (the name I was repeatedly called as Guinea natives struggled to find Lydia on their tongues) in any of the dresses that caught my eye, I began to notice that I stood a little straighter, head held high, and that while imagining myself in this beautiful garb I felt more confident.  It dawned on me that while the dresses were attractive, what I was really attracted to was the way the women carried themselves and that was what I desired.  More than just a posture embedded from years of practice in balancing wares on their heads, being able to bend over with a flat back & straight knees to touch the ground, and squat with heels flat on the ground (a move I have been seeking to perfect in yoga classes), these women exuded ease with their bodies, a comfort and self- acceptance that I craved. It was not arrogance nor superiority, simply an ease with self that did not seem to take away from anyone else, an ease with what is rather than what is missing. 

That’s what I  want - the ease! Can I get if from wearing their clothes?  Will donning their garb imbue me with that spirit?  Will wearing one of these dresses remind me of how these women stand and carry themselves and encourage me to do the same – being content with what is?  

I have brought home some of the fabric - the fabric of joy and contentment, the fabric that is bold, yet not offensive, the fabric that makes a statement without denigrating others.  Will I find the right dress pattern, one that cherishes my body rather than trying to re-contour it to accent what this society says a woman should be?  Or will I allow whatever I create to be perfect as is, to allow myself to be perfect as is?