White Winged Dove

I remember listening to his song on the record player in my parents' living room on Buffalo Street.

I saw Stevie Nicks as a musical goddess with her black long flowing gypsy like clothing.

She also reminded me of a witch, but a good witch who was into rock n roll.

She had a unique style to her that I adored.

Stevie was one of my mother's favorite performers along with Elton John.

I was blessed to grow up listened to Fleetwood Mac and Stevie’s solo albums.

This is the soundtrack to my early life and there were many great songs I was exposed to at an early age.

After watching the movie “Gypsy 83” I knew there were others out there who had this obsession with Stevie's style too.

She was like Elvis and there were impersonators that gathered at bars in drag queen like contests to see who had the best impersonation.

It was like Halloween on May 26 each year to celebrate Stevie Nick's Birthday.

You can be anyone you want to be and they choose a 70s goddess.

My mom wore too much makeup in the 80s.

I remember her putting on heavy blush that looked unnatural and blackberry lipstick made my Revlon.

The lipstick looks great with her pale skin and dark hair.

It's a shame this shade has been discontinued by Revlon.

This lipstick was the perfect deep berry red with plum undertones.

My mother's blush made her look like a hand-painted porcelain doll.

The bright red blush color was too dark for her alabaster skin tone and reminded me of drag queen makeup.

It was the 80s though and extravagant makeup was the popular look along with blue eyeshadow.

This was the popular makeup look of this time period.

She stood out from the crowd and you could smell her Chantilly perfume a mile away.

It was so strong it gave me headaches as a child.

I always wondered why she wore so much of it.

Was she trying to cover up the smell of cigarette smoke?

Why didn't she wear the lily of the valley Estee Lauder perfume that was collecting dust on a shelf in the bathroom?

This was one of the mysteries of my child mind.

Though maybe I fell in love with the scent of lily the valley at a young age and wondered why logically she didn't wear the perfume that my young nose told me smelled better.

The memory can be an interesting device.

I have always had a photographic memory, which few understand.

I distinctly remember a favorite shirt of my mothers that was yellow and had stars on it.

It was flashy and screamed look at me, I have arrived and refuse to be ignored.

As a child, I only had my mother and magazines we received in the mail to look at for fashion ideas.

I think most young girls want to grow up to be like their mothers and enjoy playing dress up in closets of clothing that will take many years for them to grow into.

This was part of my childhood growing up as a young girl in the 80s.

I walked around my parent's bedroom in my mother's pearl iridescent 3-inch-tall high heeled shoes with pointy toes.

Her shoes were much too large for my small feet.

I liked to play dress up in her closet when she wasn’t looking.

I was learning what it was like to be a woman.

To embrace these pointy shoes and the world of beauty and fashion.

What old Bonne Belle Cosmetics smelled like.

The texture of metal lipstick that came in decorative tubes.

In later years I would go on to develop my own sense of style and personal likes.

But for now, it was all about tacky sunshine colored shirts and high heels.

It was about exploring the resources I had around me and later forming my own identity based on them.

She had an impressive nail polish collection.

Four shelves full above her vanity.

It was more nail polish than anyone could ever use in a lifetime.

I sorted them by shades of blue and pearl when she wasn’t looking.

No two were exactly alike.

I thought of alphabetizing them my color name but that proved to be too much of a hassle and sorting them my physical appearance seemed much more appealing.

*This poem will be featured in my upcoming book "Peeling Sanity"

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