You’ve probably read my friend Patricia Lorenz’s “Baggy Yellow Shirt” story, about a joke and a lot of love between her and her mom. It’s been published all over the place, and people all over the internet, like this site, regularly appropriate it without permission or credit.
But this isn’t a story about a baggy yellow shirt. It’s a story about a pair of black jersey capris. They’re the ones on the bottom in the picture below.
Fifteen years ago, I had virtually no disposable income. My marriage was ending, and I was saddled with a lot of related debt. What I did have was enough airline miles to fly free from the DC area to Tampa to visit Pat. “Bring your big suitcase,” she said. “I have a lot of stuff to send home with you.”
It was a great respite for my soul. We talked and talked and talked, about writing, about men, about money, about God. We laughed a lot. And on the day before I left, she pulled out box after box of clothing. There were swimsuit covers, blouses, shirts, and more she had acquired from one person or another, stuff that was too long for her or she just didn’t like. Among the stuff was a pair of black jersey capris with pockets. I’d never owned capris before, and didn’t exactly like the way they looked, but you don’t say no to Pat, so into the bulging suitcase they went.
My financial situation improved as time went on, but I wore every piece of clothing from that trip to rags. Wearing the sparkly brown dress shirt or the green polo shirt always made me think of Pat and
that weekend. But nothing lasted as long as those black jersey capris. They didn’t expect anything special of me, just a toss in the washer and dryer. I wore them around the house. I wore them to restaurants. I wore them to parties.
I’ve worn them every week during the pandemic, and now, finally, the fabric is wearing too thin. I ordered this pair of replacements this week, and they’re on the top of the picture. They’re not jersey. The pockets aren’t as nice. They have buttons on the bottom of the legs, for goodness sake. But they were the closest thing I could find, and only cost $15.
And so, this is not as moving a story as the “Baggy Yellow Shirt.” But it is my farewell to the black jersey capris–and my note of loving thanks for them and more to Pat.
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Love your story about the black capris but most of all I love you for writing it. You are a treasure and I can’t wait for two things: to visit you in DC and for you to come back to Florida. Here’s to your snazzy new black capris.