In her fashion, Ann brightens lives

The Boston Herald

BEVERLY BECKHAM

I dress with care when I go to see Ann. I stand at the closet door and think about what to put on and try extra hard not to wear black. Ann says I wear too much black.

"You need some color," she insists. "You should wear reds and blues and purples."

It took her a long time to tell me this. She kept her tongue for months before she spoke up.

Ann lives in a nursing home and doesn't go much farther than her own room. But that doesn't stop her from dressing as if she's going out on the town. She's fussy about her appearance. She doesn't throw on clothes simply to cover herself. She coordinates outfits. Her pants and sweaters match. Plus she puts on beads, over-the-head strands that complement her wardrobe. Complement is her word. It's important that everything you wear complements everything else. That's what she says. And she must be right because the truth is it's always nice to walk into her room and see her looking pretty and stylish.

Ann worked in a bank for many years, but I suspect she was always part fashion consultant. She admits she was a snappy dresser. That's another one of her words - snappy.

"People used to tell me I had excellent taste," she says.

She eased into the subject of MY taste one afternoon a few months ago.

"I like your suit," she said, the words a surprise because I was wearing the same black pants and jacket that I had worn at least a dozen times. Was she kidding? I looked at her. She didn't look as if she were kidding. Was she losing it?

Quite the opposite. She was playing it cool, backpedaling her way into my closet, my bureau drawers and my psyche.

"Thank you," I said. "I like this suit, too."

A few minutes passed in which we talked about other things. And then, as if it had just come to her, she leaned close and whispered, "You know what would look nice with that suit?"

"What?" I answered, unaware that this was all part of Ann's master plan.

"A pretty red blouse. You'd look nice in red."

"You think?"

"I know. I was a good dresser in my day. People used to ask for my opinion. Red's what you need."

So at my next visit, to please Ann, I wore red.

You'd have thought I had brought her a gift she was so excited. Her eyes lit up and she smiled and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. She had a mission.

"Purple would like nice on you, too. Not light purple but something deep, something with blue hues."

Hues. The word made me smile.

"Do you mind if I tell you something?" she asked.

"No, I don't mind," I told her.

"All right. You need to get rid of everything you have that's beige."

"Beige?"

"You know, all those no-color tops that you always wear with that black suit. Beige does nothing for you. Clean out your closet and get rid of it. If you're going to wear black you have to brighten it up. And you know what else? You need some jewelry. See how these beads perk up my outfit."

She was wearing red and white beads against a blue top and indeed they did look nice.

She sent me to her drawer then to get her box of beads and I brought it to her and she was silent for a while. Then she handed me a pair. "These are my favorite," she said, insisting that I "borrow" them.

I walked down the hall that day wearing a red shirt and Ann's gold beads and in my head I could hear Ann saying, "You look like a million dollars." And I smiled because I felt like a million dollars.

I wear colors when I go to see Ann now. And I put on jewelry. You'd think I was a flamingo, this pleases her so.

She has no reason to get dressed up every day. Neither does Josephine, who sits in the hall in her pretty dresses and matching beads and earrings. But because they do, the sometimes sad place in which they live seems a little less sad and maybe even a little festive.

Along with fashion, maybe this - dressing up the place - is what Ann has been trying to teach me all along.