drawstring cotton pants and a ribbed tank flitted through my mind, and I swallowed the bubble of panic that wanted to break free.
The “artificial silk” felt like rayon, and I wondered how well it would launder, but I did my best to wiggle into the corset, appreciating the relative ease of the front laces and the long ruffle that fell halfway down my thighs. It was designed to wear over the chemise, which fit like a square-necked slip and provided little lift or support to my breasts but was soft and comfortable. I slipped on the knickers Beatrice had whispered about and decided it could be worse.
I tried on a deep-blue dress with a square neckline and sheer elbow-length sleeves. The lines were straight and simple, with a bit more volume at the hem of the skirt so it swished softly a few inches above my ankles. A sash gave the dress some shape, and Beatrice studied me, her lips pursed.
“The color is good. The style too. You have a lovely neck, and you could wear this with jewels and dress it up for dinner or wear it plain with just a hat for Mass. We’ll add the rose-colored one just like it to the stack.”
Two cotton blouses, one pink and one green, with lapels that created a wide V above three buttons could be worn with the long gray skirt Beatrice insisted was a staple. I tried on two “housedresses” next: one peach, the other white with tiny brown dots. Both had deep, thigh-high pockets and long, straight sleeves that ended in thick cuffs. They were simply styled with round necklines that skirted the collarbones and a pleated waistband that separated the bodice from the shin-length skirt. Beatrice set a wide-brimmed white straw hat decorated in peach flowers and lace on my head and declared me perfect. She added two shawls to my purchases, one a soft green and one white, and scolded me when I tried to tell her no.
“You were born in Ireland, yes? You’ve lived here all your life. You know you must have shawls!”
Beatrice brought me a long wool coat and a matching charcoal hat decorated with a spray of black roses and a black silk ribbon. She called it a cloche hat. Instead of the stiff circular brim and round dome of the straw hat, the cloche hat was snug and flared around my face coquettishly, following the line of my head. I loved it and left it on while I moved on to the next thing.
I started making a pile. In addition to the underthings and clothes, I would need four pairs of stockings, a pair of brown kid pumps, a pair of medium-heeled black T-strap shoes, and a pair of black boots for the colder months. I could also use Anne’s old boots for long walks or chores. I mentally balked at the thought of chores, wondering what kind of chores a woman in 1921 was typically tasked with. Thomas had servants, but he’d said he wanted me to assist him with his patients. I reassured myself that the boots would suffice for that as well.
I’d been keeping a tally in my head—stockings four for a pound, shoes and shawls three pounds apiece. The cotton dresses were five pounds each, the boots and the linen dresses were seven, the chemises and knickers were a pound apiece, and the skirt was four. The blouses were two and a half pounds, the corset a little more, the hats as much as the cotton dresses, and the wool coat fifteen pounds all by itself. I had to be getting close to ninety pounds, and I still needed to buy toiletries.
“You need a dress or two for parties. The doctor is often invited to the homes of the well-to-do,” Beatrice insisted, a frown curving between her brows. “And do you have jewelry? We have some beautiful costume jewelry that looks almost real.”
I showed her my ring and earrings and indicated that was the extent of it. She nodded, biting her lip.
“You also need a handbag. But that can wait, I suppose. When winter comes, you’ll wish you had another wool suit,” she added, eyeing the ugly, outdated suit I’d worn coming into the department store. “That’s not the . . . loveliest . . . suit I’ve ever seen. But it will be warm.”
“I won’t be going to any parties with the doctor,” I protested. “And this suit will have to do. I’ll have my shawls