Some of my favorite childhood memories lie in a large, blue Rubbermaid box. This bursting-at-the-seams box contains oodles of dress-up clothes, which have brought countless hours of fun to me and all my friends. Perhaps the best times dress-up provided were with my two closest cousins. Although their visits were rare, and we didn't see each other much, by the time we really got into dress-up, we would be the best of friends. It was always the same at any occasion they visited for: the grown-ups would all sit in the living room having "boring" conversations. The youngest of the three of us, Brad, would run out in the living room, and announce the characters: "Introducing the clown princess and hat lady!" Then Angela and I would waltz in costume into the living room and give a fashion show for the adults. We were butterflies and hula dancers. We were pilgrims and Indians for Thanksgiving, and reindeer for Christmas. Afterwards, we'd run back to my bedroom for a costume change.
Our shouts could be overheard through the closed door. "I want to be the fairy."
"No fair, you got to be it last time." Reaching my tiny hand into the giant box, I'd pull out a purple feather boa - the perfect match to my ballerina tutu. Angela picked out costumes for her brother, Bradley. He would argue with outbursts such as, "Boys don't wear dresses!"
We would always work out the costumes and look great for our parents and grandparents who would often applaud but would sometimes ignore us and rudely carry on their chit-chat.
The box now sits in storage, but once in a while I rummage through it to find outfits for a party or another dress-up event. Although I've outgrown most of the clothes, the contents are too sentimental to toss. But even after the dress-up box is gone, I will always hold its memories close.
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