Concept |
Every Sunday was the same. All the cousins would rendezvous at Yiayia’s house after church and sneak down to the basement where the games would begin. Imaginations ran wild and the laughter did not stop. The basement became a new world where we could run free- the floor was purple slime and the walls were melting crayon colors. The innocence of youth exploded from our beings. When the basement fun was done, feet could be heard rumbling up the stairs and into our Yiayia’s closet, which seemed miles long and wide. In our eyes, these clothes were not just any clothes. They were magical. We became designers, turning our Yiayia’s shirts into dresses and her pants into fabulous scarfs. We created elaborate garment closures out of hair ties and clips- we hated anything traditional. Our accessories included the finest of makeshift arts and crafts, along with various articles of clothing wrapped up as “hats.”
When the closet raid was over, we transitioned to the kitchen where we would “help” our Yiayia cook the finest of Greek cuisine. We would gather at the kitchen table joking with our Yiayia and Papou of who the best grandchild was. The kitchen had the sweetest floral wallpaper- it matched well with our shirred floral ensembles. After dinner, we’d take turns showering in Yiayia’s seemingly amazing bathroom. For some odd reason, we loved to take showers at her house. The tiles on her bathroom wall and the vintage sliding doors fascinated me. After our showers, we packed onto the couch in the living room. The one with the best view of our Sunday television specials- of course. We’d hide things in the cushions, cozy up in her various blankets and quilts, and run our fingers down the buttoned up upholstery.
Then, one day, my cousins moved away. I was devastated. Sundays were no longer the same. They only happened once or twice a year. Yiayia’s house began to change as the years went by. I still went to her house on Sundays, but they no longer had a feeling of wonder and overwhelming imagination. With each visit, a sacred object from my childhood was gone or moved to the basement. The basement was no longer a magical escape, but simply a storage unit. I was sad and angry- I feared growing up. I told myself I didn’t hold resentment towards my cousins’ move, but I did. Holidays were different, our lives were different. We no longer knew everything about each other and each visit was clouded with catching up on our new lives. We reminisced over old memories, but rarely got the chance to make new ones.
I wanted to make this collection to pay homage to the house that shaped me. The house I remember from those wonderful days of my childhood. As time keeps passing by, I know that the house I hold so dear will continue to change and eventually become a stranger to me as those memories fade with time. Through this collection, I hope to find a sense of healing and preserve the memories of the house that grew me into the person I am today.
Bio |
Eliana Batsakis is currently a Sophomore in the Fashion Department at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She finds her work often explores family relationships and childhood memories.