The gown and mothers

The robe has a very special meaning in my house. Even as a little girl, I used to predict under my sheets what the day would be like just by hearing my mother's footsteps in the hallway. If her shoes sounded on the parquet floor, it meant that mom would already be dressed, that she would have breakfast quickly and standing up, give us a fleeting kiss and run out the door saying the same phrase: I'm late! and I would not see her again until the evening, which would return me to an exhausted mommy, disheveled and with little desire for anything. 

But if while I was hiding under my sheets I heard mom's bare feet crossing the hallway up and down, I could already imagine the fabric of her robe flying behind her. Right there a shy smile interrupted the silence of my room. That meant that the day would be magical and the mornings would last forever, who knows if even the whole day in my pajamas! Then the house would be transformed, it smelled of coffee and toast and I was licking my lips just thinking that we would spend the day together: baking cookies, or some of grandma's recipes (the ones where she always changed the ingredients so we wouldn't get it as good as she did), surely in the afternoon we would watch a movie on the sofa or play that board game we both liked so much. When mom was wearing her robe, mom was mom and we were very, very happy.

And speaking of robes, I still remember that day when grandma came into the house. She went through the hallway making the parquet floor creak with her shoes, went into mom's bathroom and took her old robe from behind the door, behind it she took dad's too, and then did exactly the same with ours. Then he took out a plastic bag he carried in the pocket of his raincoat, put them all inside, tied a knot in it and before leaving the house he said (brandishing the bag high): "In this house it's over with wearing old robes full of pellets. Memories that are for life have to be with nice clothes, even if they are for being at home, and the gowns (she called them Robe de chambre, which sounds infinitely better), must always be beautiful because they accompany the most special moments". And she left, closing the front door with determination, as only she knew how to do. That's my grandmother, and although she is somewhat frivolous, she is always right. 

The next day she had replaced our old robes with silk and linen ones, and indeed the most beautiful memories of my mother during our childhood are with her robes, made of soft and feminine materials, which gave her elegance even when she had to spend the whole day at home, lazy, between sheets and cushions.

This year I am going to give my mommy one of my new collection, which are beautiful, and I will accompany her with this story so we can laugh together remembering.

I propose this and other beautiful gifts for your mother, who deserves everything, to receive a special surprise.