I lived in a five bedroom house, eight blocks away from campus, with four of my best friends and sorority sisters. (I also want to mention our rent was $430 a month. FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS A MONTH. That’s like what I spent on shoes last month. SHIT.)
Anyways, I digress. It was the night before our families arrived, and the house was somewhat of a mess (I vaguely recall a smoothie taste test taking place at around 2:00am in our kitchen). My roommate Anna, who is insanely responsible, ridiculously polite, and somewhat of a clean freak, did not want our familiar arriving to a messy house. She took charge.
“I’M CLEANING UP THE LIVING ROOM!” she called. “Everyone come get your stuff!”
I can only assume none of us emerged from our respective bedrooms, so she started naming names.
“GERRICK! Your backpack is on the floor. COME GET IT!”
“GREENE! You have mail on the counter. COME GET IT!”
“LAURA! Your sweatshirt is on the couch. COME GET IT!”
“JORDAN! Come out here NOW! Your cape is on the floor. Your magic wand is behind the TV. Your tiara is on top of the fridge. And your tutu is collecting dust in the corner. COME GET IT OR I’M THROWING IT OUT!”
Throw out my costumes!? I immediately scampered out to retrieve my stuff.
It’s been three years since that day. I have retired my cape. I no longer carry around my wand. My tiara sits on my desk, still sparkly but a little dusty.
But I do still have a love for tutus. And for summer, I’m setting my sights on wearing one -- or, at least, a version of one. Wouldn’t these be fabulous?