Mom’s Blouses (And the Closet She Never Locked)
Remember the days when you'd sneak into your mom's closet and clomp around in her high heels like you were born for the runway? If your family is anything like mine, the photo albums are filled with images of a sweet little one in some outrageously oversized pumps. (Okay, technically those pictures are mostly of my sister—the running family joke is that they stopped taking photos when I came along. Classic younger-sibling sob story.)
A few years ago, I found myself back in Altoona, PA, raiding my mom's closet all over again. It had been a while, but the magic was still there. My mom had a chic ‘80s vibe that just can’t be replicated. Sure, some of the pieces are too big (those shoulder pads meant business), but each blouse carries a kind of joy that’s hard to explain. It’s like going back to your favorite restaurant and being hugged by the meal. That’s what her blouses do for me.
The wild thing is, she never really knew she was beautiful. She grew up thinking that a four-eyed little brunette couldn’t possibly be cool. But anyone who has ever known my mom knows she’s the quirkiest, cutest ball of warmth. We fight like sisters, but she’s my super best friend and always my first call.
She also never realized she had tremendous style. My theory? It started with Gamu—Martha Mallam, my grandmother and the original fashion fairy godmother. Dollars had to stretch in Altoona, so Gamu made most of Mom’s clothes growing up. But she didn’t just sew; she styled. She found patterns from fashion magazines and stitched magic so that Mom and Aunt Barbara could shine without a price tag. I still wear some of her creations today—my red cape is a winter staple, and I feel fierce and proud every time I put it on.
So now, when I need a boost, I turn to Mom's blouses...
SXSW: Boy was I nervous! I was so excited to take the stage, but could I deliver? I wore one of Mom’s blouses with a green Zara blazer and suddenly, I felt like me & I was ready to rock it. Before I even hit the stage, multiple people stopped me to compliment the look. (Thanks, Mom!)
J’s Going Away: For Jen’s move to London, we splurged on a night at the Baccarat bar. It called for drama. I went full sparkle with Mom’s bedazzled top and my patent leather Mary Janes. Nailed it.
WISE WOMAN: Most recently, I was home for a very special celebration—Mom was named an Altoona Wise Woman for her incredible contributions to the arts community. (Way to go, Mom!)
I was panicking over what to wear and ended up at Kelly’s Kollections, trying on everything and feeling like nothing was quite right. Kelly, with her trademark kindness, reminded me that it would all come together.
I went home, opened Mom’s closet, and found the blouse. The sleeves were too poofy, but with a jacket? Perfect. I didn’t realize I needed a little Jane in my outfit to celebrate our Little Jane.

We say thank you a lot, but sometimes we forget to say it for the little things—the open doors, the second helpings, the late-night calls, and the closet that never had a lock on it.
Thank you, Mom, for never locking your closet or your heart. You let us play dress-up before we even knew what it meant to carry ourselves with style, substance, and love. You’ve always been the blueprint—even if it took us a few decades (and a few poofy sleeves) to figure it out.
About Sara
The Gable Edit is where I share what’s catching my eye: from emerging trends to timeless staples, with plenty of scarf styling tips woven in (pun absolutely intended). Whether it’s the perfect pop of color or the accessory that pulls it all together, I’m here to help you find your own edit — and have a little fun along the way.


Comments
Post a Comment