Umbrella Sorrow - Touching China's Famous Essays

Author: Yi Lei
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: The three skirts of Lin Daiyu and Mao Mao are the beginning of my collection of Chinese items. One year, when I returned to Taiwan, my father always said my clothes were not enough and urged me to go shopping for new ones every day. I didn’t dislike wearing clothes, on the contrary, because I loved them so much, I stubbornly chose a natural-style outfit. As a result, all the fashionable clothes in the windows didn’t suit me—they were so formal, belonging to office workers. That heavy defensive feeling made people stop and respect me from ten steps away. I preferred cotton or linen fabrics for my skirts, and they couldn’t be short. The lower part should be wider, so walking in them would be like catching the wind. Those long skirts could match horse boots in winter or sandals in summer. As for cheongsams and narrow skirts, I probably would never buy them in my lifetime—they made my steps small and my walk awkward. Because it was hard to buy clothes, I stopped looking at clothing stores and went straight to the Guanghua Market to look for used books. On the second floor of the used book market, in a small antique shop, I first saw the pink ancient skirt in the photo. I asked the shopkeeper to take it down—back then, it was hanging on the wall, framed by a large glass—held it in my hands, and examined the craftsmanship. Some mysterious love suddenly arose in my heart. I was transported back to that ancient society and then into the Grand View Garden of Dream of the Red Chamber. I saw Lin Daiyu, Daiyu, wearing that skirt, crying in the wind, Ziyun holding a cloak ready to cover her. Seeing her crying like that, I felt directly annoyed by Baoyu’s stubbornness. As I thought about it, I tightened the skirt on myself. The elegance of the skirt matched my sandals perfectly—it was as if Lin Daiyu was blessing me, not being petty. She wanted me to buy it. So, I took it home. In fact, this skirt was an outer skirt, reaching below the knees. In the past, young ladies would wear another longer skirt underneath to cover their feet. This style can still be seen in Peking Opera. It is also depicted in illustrations of characters from Dream of the Red Chamber. When I wore this pink ancient skirt as my dress that summer, it was particularly fresh. Walking on the streets of Europe, women would stop me to admire the craftsmanship of the skirt. Every time someone wanted to see my skirt, I felt proud. If someone asked where I could buy it, I would say, “This skirt was given to me by a young lady named Lin from China. It’s hard to get!” Saying it was hard to get, I ended up finding another one. This time, Lin Daiyu was already dead, and Baoyu had left home. The kind and considerate Xue Baochai, as a good woman, gave her skirt to Xiren, telling her not to worry about Baoyu and to marry. When Xiren finally married Jiang Yuhuan, one day while drying clothes, she found the old skirt, paused for a moment, and quietly put it back in her wardrobe. Many years later, the skirt was passed down to the common people and eventually ended up in my home. Every summer, I would wear these two skirts and walk through the streets, imagining the stories above. This summer, I will wear them again. Thinking about my personality, how much of me is like Daiyu and how much like Baochai? I thought and thought. Where is Xiyun’s skirt? What color was it? Xiyun loved dressing like a boy, so next time, I’ll buy a men’s outfit from the antique shop and wear it in my dreams to comfort Grandma Jia Mu, pretending to be Baoyu. P3-4