Don't tell me it's just a dress

It was apparent at this point that my mom needed to be close to family, so we jumped on a plane and moved to Portland. Leaving California was not just leaving behind sunshine and beautiful beaches. Leaving California meant leaving behind all of my mom’s hopes and dreams. Her hope of having a happy family. Her dreams of being a successful entrepreneur. When she left California, she left her independence, her pride, and her heart there too.

We moved in with my Ông Bà Ngoại, and the first few months were rough. But true to form, my mom quickly pulled herself to her feet. She found an excellent rheumatologist in Portland and was able to get her pain and inflammation under control. She started dating. And she even went back to school.

[My mom immigrated to the United States as a refugee when she was 19, and although she did take some community college classes after she arrived, she never finished school.]

With my grandparents, uncles, and aunts, shortly after we moved to Portland.

My mother has always had a great passion for textiles. The 1970's-style clothing she sewed for herself were the envy of all her friends. Going to design school to pursue her love of fabric and clothing was a natural choice. But it wasn't easy managing her school schedule as a single mother. My grandmother helped out by walking me to school in the mornings. When my mom couldn't make it back early enough to pick me up from school, my Auntie Hạnh would pick me up. Sometimes my mom even brought me to class. I have very fond memories sitting in a dark classroom with her and her classmates listening as her art history teacher discussed the slides (yes, actual glass slides) on the projector.

After two years of hard work, my mom graduated from Bassist College with an associate’s degree in apparel design. I was six years old. I still remember her beaming face at her senior fashion show and graduation ceremony. I was proud of her. And more importantly, she was proud of herself. She soon found work developing patterns and prototypes for up-and-coming designers and companies in Portland. Serendipitously, it was through her search for a special industrial sewing machine that she met my dad, Julio.

With Julio and my mom on my 8th birthday - just a few months after they were married.

With Julio’s support and entrepreneurial acumen, her business really took off. She built quite the reputation around Portland - entirely without the help of the internet (which completely baffles me). She didn’t have a website and never needed one. All of her clients came via word-of-mouth referrals. She simply is the best at what she does. You can’t find anyone who cares as much about the perfection of her work as she does. And she absolutely loves it. The one thing she always tells me is: I do what I love.

Of course, she was always busy with work. Even though she worked downstairs or next-door, I hardly saw my mom. When I came home from school, we’d have my “how was school” conversation as she cut stacks of ballistic, traced paper patterns, or performed QC checks on the work performed by her seamstresses. I seldom got her undivided attention.

[Yes, even only-children are attention deprived.]

But, there were times when all of her attention was focused on me. These times were really special to me. They were the times when we were working on making a dress together and I looked forward to them so much. It had to be done after work hours, so it would usually happen on a Sunday afternoon, after we came home from church. We would make dresses for an upcoming dance, event, or competition. It would usually start with me showing my mom my sketches, then we’d discuss the type of fabric we wanted to use. We’d go fabric shopping together - first in her fabric closet - and if we didn’t find what we needed there, we’d head to the fabric shops.

She would carefully measure me, and start work on the pattern. My cutting and sewing skills didn’t quite live up to my mom’s exacting standards, so my job was to keep my mom company. It was the best. It was just me and my mom working together in the shop. I’d lean on the cutting table or pull up a chair next to her sewing machine and we’d talk about everything. School, life, boys, the future. This was our quality time. My mom and I never went out to lunch together. We didn’t go to the movies. Or to the mall. This is what we did. We sewed.

[Read: She sewed and I watched and tried to not mess anything up!]

I didn’t receive gifts from my mom on my birthday or christmas. And I didn’t need them because she gave me gifts all year long. The dresses she sewed for me were her gifts to me. And they are so much more than just dresses. They represent her passion for textiles and sewing. Her creativity and ingenuity. The continuation of a skilled trade passed down from her forefathers. Her ability to overcome a disease and continue to pursue her dreams. Sewing these dresses is the way that my mom showed her love for me. She has poured her heart and energy into each cut and every single stitch. These dresses are a part of her. Which means they are a part of me too.

My mom sewed this dress for a special piano recital. I was about 11 years old.

I was absolutely heartbroken when we got back from our trip to Vietnam and found out after that these dresses, along with other belongings, had been accidentally given away on Craigslist while we were gone. I am 2,800 miles away from Portland and have tried to do everything I can possibly can to try and track down whoever might have been given these dresses, but I am stuck. I posted an ad yesterday morning in the Craigslist free section pleading with whoever might have taken the dresses to return them, but my ad was quickly flagged for removal. I copied the information from that ad to my blog and shared a link on Facebook and Twitter. I'm so incredibly grateful to friends and family who have shared my posts online. It means so much to me and my family.

While I recognize that finding these dresses is like finding a needle in a haystack, I won’t give up, at least not now. I believe in the generosity, honesty, and kindness of people. I believe that whoever has the dresses, knowing that the dresses were given away by mistake, would return them in a heartbeat.

I am praying and hoping that those people or that person will see one of my posts, and that will find it in their heart to bring our dresses back. It would mean the world to us.

Thanks again to everyone who is trying to help us, we appreciate it so much.

<3 Michele (& her mom)

You can contact me by phone at 503-893-5236 or email at lostfamilyheirlooms@gmail.com

1. You can share a link to this first blog post (includes pictures of the dresses) with your friends/family via email or social networks
2. You can share a link to this blog post
3. Share one of our news features (see links below)
4. You can share my Facebook post 
5. You can retweet my tweet
6. Pray

We are still searching for the lost dresses and are so grateful to all of you who have cared enough to share our story. It means so much to us, and it's really helping get the word out!

Please, consider sharing a link to one of these news features on social media and help us bring these dresses back. Thank you!
KGW Channel 8 News
http://www.kgw.com/news/priceless-dresses-given-away-on-craigslist/49618800

KATU Channel 2 News

http://katu.com/news/local/daughter-searches-for-accidentally-donated-hand-sewn-dresses

KPTV Channel 12 News

http://www.kptv.com/clip/12229250/se-portland-familys-priceless-heirlooms-accidentally-given-away?autostart=true

The Oregonian

http://www.oregonlive.com/living/index.ssf/2016/02/portland_native_asks_for_help.html