Sequins and Lace


My good friend from high school posted a link on Facebook today. It was about the shutdown of the Jessica McClintock line of dresses. Now, if you are under the age of, let’s say mid-thirty something, that name may not be that familiar to you. Jessica McClintock (and also the Gunne Sax line) was every girl’s dream.

I am a child of the 1980’s. Back then, every girl wanted one of those gorgeous, lacy, sequined dresses that would make her look and feel like an absolute princess the night of that long awaited school dance. I would drag my poor mom to the local dress store downtown and try on 15 dresses. I always knew which one I wanted beforehand, because I had circled it in the Seventeen magazine I had received in the mail. But, I tried them all on anyway, because dresses have always been my most favorite articles of clothing. I would spend hours twirling around in front of that dressing room mirror, imagining the boy of my dreams on my arm. I was such a girly girl….wait, I AM such a girly girl.

My girl friends and I would spend hours doing bad make-up and styling our badly permed hair, just to spend hours in a stinky old gym, waiting for that right guy to ask us to dance. But, before we knew it, “Come Sail Away” was playing and the night was over. All that prep work, all that shopping and money spent on a dress for a few hours of dancing and looking longingly at our crush from the corner of the gym. But, it was all worth it just to wear that beautiful dress.

I own an online eBay store, where I sell name brand clothing at a discount price. In my hunt for bargains, I’ve run across some of those dresses. They are a bit rough around the edges, the threads frayed, showing the passing of the years. These beautiful reminders of my youth are now labeled “vintage”. Wait, what? When I first saw something I remember wearing labeled vintage, the sands of time flew smack dab in my eye and blinded me!! If the dress I wore to my senior prom is vintage, then I must be too!

Like the dresses of my youth, I am frayed around the edges, worn out a bit with the passage of time. But, I still have a lot of life in me. There may be a few sequins missing, but I still sparkle. In my mind, I am still that teenager searching for the perfect dress to make me feel like the most beautiful, sophisticated girl in the world. 


Me and my prom date. Senior year, 1990;






I was doing so well keeping up with this blog. I was doing daily posts, writing poetry, etc. But, just when you think it’s safe to get back in the water, so to speak, along comes more water. And more water….and more…and…..well, you get the picture. Last year–we just finished in November of 2013, actually– we did a huge remodel on our house including $20,000 on the basement. Well, with the enormous amounts of snow and then torrential rains that we have been getting here in PA, our brand new basement flooded. The first time was about 6 weeks ago, then last Wednesday, it happened again, only this time MUCH worse. Thousands of dollars worth of damage. Today, everything was finally dry and all the rooms cleaned up. Except my youngest son’s room, where the floor is completely ruined and has to be replaced. All in all, there was thousands of dollars worth of damage. 

Now, I know that I should be thankful it was just things, no one was injured, etc. And believe me I am. But, when I struggle most days just to get out of bed and face the world, things like that throw my entire well-being for a loop. I always feel like every time I’m on the right path again, like I’m feeling better and stronger, something always happens that throws me back five steps. It’s this never-ending vicious cycle. I have learned, over the past 4 years, how to stay stronger in crisis—-because of my husband. Sometimes, I feel like no matter what I put out in the universe, it always comes back to me in a negative way. OK, no pity party here. Just simple facts. But, life goes on , so on I go.




Allison Cline-Saia

My reflection looks cracked in the shiny metallic

a fractured nondescript visage—

human, yet not quite

scrambled features.

.Each time the demons arrive

they throw rocks—

breaking the smoothness

causing distortion.

Pieces of glass falling

to the floor–

dangerous and sharp

drawing blood.

He walks across them

time and time again–

feet oozing red

searing pain.

But he doesn’t stop

doesn’t hesitate to pick them up—

putting on a bandage

he walks through.