“It will have to do…though green is the one colour above all others that you should never wear, my Katherine. But you’re going to wear a red, pin-tucked chiffon collar I’ve made for you. Yes, you are. You ought to have a red dress, Katherine.”
“I’ve always hated red. When I went to live with Uncle Henry, Aunt Gertrude always made me wear aprons of bright Turkey-red. The other children in school used to call out ‘Fire,’ when I came in with one of those aprons on. Anyway, I can’t be bothered with clothes.”
“Heaven grant me patience! Clothes are very important,” said Anne severely, as she braided and coiled. Then she looked at her work and saw that it was good. She put her arm about Katherine’s shoulders and turned her to the mirror.
“Don’t you truly think we are a pair of quite good-looking girls?” she laughed. “And isn’t it really nice to think people will find some pleasure in looking at us? There are so many homely people who would actually look quite attractive if they took a little pains with themselves. Three Sundays ago in church….you remember the day poor old Mr. Milvain preached and had such a terrible cold in his head that nobody could make out what he was saying?…well, I passed the time making the people around me beautiful. I gave Mrs. Brent a new nose, I waved Mary Addison’s hair, and gave Jane Marden’s a lemon rinse…I dressed emma Dill in blue instead of brown…I dressed Charlotte Blair in stripes instead of checks…I removed several moles…and I shaved off Thomas Anderson’s long, sandy Piccadilly weepers. You couldn’t have known them when I got through with them. And, except perhaps for Mrs. Brent’s nose, they could have done everything themselves. Why, Katherine, your eyes are just the colour of tea…amber tea. Now, live up to your name this evening…a brook should be sparkling…limpid…merry.”
Above: Herieth Paul on the Balmain Spring 2016 catwalk
In Canada, there’s so much diversity and freedom to be the person you want to be. Canada gave me the chance to try all kinds of things, from modelling to playing hockey. Tanzania taught me about having compassion for people. Speaking Swahili and wearing my African attire is very important to me, as is being Tanzanian-Canadian. Some models would rather just pretend to be American. But that’s the number one thing my mom taught me: never forget where you come from.
Herieth Paul in “All Hail Herieth” by Caitlin Kenny in Flare August 2016
It must have been those colours she wore, like flower bursts, that convinced the neighbours she was the real thing, fro Japan. While I had my quiet browns and navies. On one or two occasions I saw hakujin men slow down on the street just to watch her, to try to catch her eye. A true Japanese lady from a samurai family.
That was what she told me, her lowly lady-in-waiting. That was what I was, but I didn’t mind. The Saitos were samurai too, but I kept that to myself, letting her have her moment. I knew what it meant to her, for all her nonchalance. That day, she wore a cherry-red scarf at her neck, less fine than her usual style–tie-dyed by her daughter, by Kimiko, she told me. There were rings inside rings on it, all bleeding into the centre, staining the white parts. It seemed to trick my eyes, the rings heaving with tremors, and I couldn’t decide whether the red was staining a white piece of cloth, or the white was bleaching out the red.
We are have reached late summer, and I would like to announce that The Closet Feminist is going to go on summer vacation for August and September 2016.
August will have me really busy with my day job, and I’m not able to balance both my paid job and the unpaid work I do with The Closet Feminist. In September I will be traveling around a lot, and similarly won’t be able to keep up.
Above: Me having some fun at the Richmond night market
As such, I have decided the site will have a formal hiatus for a couple months. What does this mean for you readers?
I still might be posting content on occasion, just not as regularly as I usually do.