CHAPTER 1
MY AVANT-GARDE MOTHER
She played hooky! This twelve-year-old girl. The year was 1895 The Town: Vilafranca del Penedes (A big name for its miniscule population)
When I visited relatives in 1999, it still had only 14,000 inhabitants. This was a town surrounded by cultivated fields about one hour by train from Barcelona. This was a time when, in Spain, a womans education lacked importance; a girl either got married or became a nun. Families that sent their daughters to school took great pride in doing so as this mere act elevated them to a higher class. The only school for girls in Vilafranca consisted of three grades, the equivalent of grades 1 & 2, 3 & 4, and 5 & 6 in todays format.
When Rosita, (diminutive for Rosa) did not show up for class for two days, the teacher asked one of the other girls to stop by the Bertr(n store and ask as to Rositas health.
WHAT?! This was the parents reaction. Rosita was confronted. She confessed that she had been at The Dressmakers. This firm was the only such establishment of its kind in the town. Her parents scolded her and warned against such behavior.
More or less a year went by when again the act was repeated. No other girl would have dared such behavior. But this was Rosita.
Her mother, Se(ora Eulalia, took her by the hand to the dressmaker shop. Yes, she had been there. She was helpful threading needles, and picking up pins from the floor. She observed what the seamstresses were doing.
The teacher was also consulted. Hum, she reads well. She writes fairly well. The arithmetic isnt bad.
Even as late as the 19th century it was expected that the husband would take care of the wifes affairs and needs. So it was decided to let Rosita follow her inclinations and become a seamstress.
At age 13 Rosita left school to learn to sew. That she did par excellence. At age 17 she was one of the most skilled seamstresses at the Dressmakers Establishment. The dressmaker was so pleased with her ability that she was asked to help on the fitting of some dresses. That opportunity gave her good practice.
Meantime, friends had been asking to fix this and alter that and why not a new dress?
Her parents had what could be called a general store. It handled anything that the peasants needed, grain, feed, tools, even the sort of footwear the peasants wore all the time and even some townsmen sometimes. They are called esparde(as. That item became fashionable about the 1950s. Much revamped, called Spadrill. But the original had a sole made of braided rope, topped with dark blue canvas and tied around the ankle by means of two twisting black straps.
When her father became ill and she had to help at the store, she put her sewing machine in a corner area and did sewing between shoppers. More women came for simple garments. My mother was ambidextrous and word got around about this unusual ability. They began to call her the ambidextrous dressmaker.
When her father died, the two remaining sons sold the store and divided the proceeds among the five heirs. My mother took her mother and moved to Barcelona, already a cosmopolitan city of two million population. What this young woman did was find out which was the most fashionable couturier establishment and applied for a job. Because of her good looks and personality, she made a good impression and was hired at a low salary. Soon her talent was recognized, and her dexterity. Her wages were increased and her status elevated.
As months went by, little by little finer fabrics were entrusted to her and she began to venture her opinion in regard to styles. Mother was never happier than when she was sewing and surrounded by beautiful fabrics and exciting fashions.
Remembering her in that environment makes me think of a beautiful mermaid in a pretty aquarium. But while a mermaid might be combing her long silky hair, I see my mother pulling a long silk thread from her stitching.
In Barcelona there is a park called Mont Jeuik. As the name implies, mont means mountain or hill, and it had been chosen for the construction of a funicular. Today those types of trains are common, they ascend sides of mountains by means of cogs. But back in (I think in 1906) that was an innovation, and people doubted that it was possible.
The day came when the Funicular was to be inaugurated. A crowd gathered with outstretched necks and gaping mouths, incredulous that a train could climb a hill at an almost 45 degree angle. On the platform of the train there were the Mayor, the Chief of Police, a General of the Army and other potentates, including a Viceroy. Someone in the mass yelled out, Youll never get that wagon to go up, if it does, it will fall down and you will all be killed.
An answer came back: If it doesnt leave this level there is nothing to fear. Is there anyone who wants to come up and try it?
A young woman raised her hand. Ah! There! Oh, but a woman!? said the Viceroy. Well, why not? Let her come up. The gathering opened up to let that foolish female pass. As she mounted the platform, her face red with embarrassment and excitement, laughter broke out among the multitude
A decorated dignitary asked if she was sure that she wanted to ascend in the funicular.
Oh yes, she said firmly.
Two men from the spectators also climbed the platform. And the train started up the steep incline. That young woman was to be my avant-garde mother!
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