A few weeks ago, on my way to brunch with friends in Georgetown, while walking along historic and charming M Street, I had a childhood flashback.
The year was 1969 and Georgetown was where it was at. We lived about 15 miles outside the city. One Saturday, my mother took me in to Georgetown to go to what she called the “psychedelic shops.”
Regardless of what psychedelic meant in 1969, I imagine Mom wanted us to see things that Annandale, Virginia’s Mademoiselle dress shop or G.C. Murphy didn’t carry. I assume she wanted to see bright colors, wild patterns in shocking pink and lime green, big hoop earrings and bead necklaces. After all, she was only 34.
I don’t remember everything we saw, but I do remember buying a diary with a brightly colored, flashy-designed vinyl cover.
There was an energy in the streets and storefont windows that we didn’t get in the suburbs. That day might have been what later inspired me to apply to Georgetown University, as if I had a prayer of being admitted.
It might have also jump-started my fondness for flashy bright colors and big dangly earrings.
Yesterday, a friend commented to me about the traits we get from our mothers.
Today, I’d like to say: Thanks, Mom, for that day in Georgetown, for passing on the shopping gene, and for my taste in groovy clothes. And of course, values and all that. Happy 75th Birthday!
Peace and love.
Word Nymph 
