Where Bleach and Fabric Fresheners Can Take You
Jen had loved stories where a young woman dragged a small suitcase into a sparsely furnished bedsit in a grotty end of town, put up some fairy lights and revelled in the freedom to dream, hoping her job in retail or hospitality would lead to a chance meeting where her talent would be recognised and her dreams come true. The furniture would be heavy with ghosts of previous occupants, the bathroom home to a forest of mould and the kitchen barely functional. Glamour doesn’t involve eating. There would be a garment rail for charity shop finds.
Reality would seep in like the dusky odours from the lumpy mattress and sagging sofa. It was freedom from parental restrictions and family expectations. Freedom to be alone. There wasn’t space for friends and it wasn’t a place to invite them back. Not a place to start a relationship either: more of a series of one-night stands. A place to sink into despair and float in the city’s dirtier corners: invisible, unseen and unheard.
But Jen had a plan and a box of bleach, air and fabric fresheners. She put the key in the lock and opened the door. Leaving the box on the sofa, she made several trips to collect two wheeled suitcases and a pile of boxes. First job: open the windows. Second job: bleach the toilet, shower and basin in the bathroom. Third, tackle the kitchen, such as it was. An oven with hob, a sink, fridge freezer, cupboards above and below a workshop which her rice cooker dominated. She sprayed the mattress and sofa with fabric freshener. She’d persuaded the landlord to let her have the large table and office chair that had been dumped in the backyard. She scrubbed both clean.
After a lunch break, she put her sewing machine on the table. Jen almost hugged it. It would keep the ghosts at bay. Opening a suitcase, she hung her designs on the garment rail. Swing dresses designed to skim curves in jewelled colours. Sober jackets with a pop of colour and proper pockets with skirts or trousers to match. Her online store had earnt her enough to put a deposit down on a retail unit. She hung her mood boards with sketches of evening wear and bridal dresses, applique flowers and machine embroidery patterns, and fabric swatches on the walls, their vibrancy energising the dingy beige woodchip wallpaper. Her daylight lamps would prevent the dark moods creeping in and nagging.
She didn’t need the romance of a chance meeting. She was free to prove that her fashion wasn’t a little hobby but a valid business. Jen might not be on the red carpet, but her name would be.
- © Emma Lee 2023
Emma Lee’s publications include “The Significance of a Dress” (Arachne, 2020) and "Ghosts in the Desert" (IDP, 2015). She co-edited “Over Land, Over Sea,” (Five Leaves, 2015), was Reviews Editor for The Blue Nib, reviews for magazines and blogs at https://emmalee1.wordpress.com.
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