Bones and Stays
By Katacha Díaz
I puzzled over long piece of string that fell onto
my lap when I opened my grandmother’s monthly letter. Dinner was ready and while I waited for
my husband to come home from the lab, I poured
myself a glass of wine and turned on the stereo.
The hauntingly beautiful sound of Andean cane
flutes and harps filled the room. I curled up on
the couch to read Mamama’s letter with the latest
family news and gossip from Miraflores, a suburb
of Lima where I grew up.
I have a small encargo, an errand, she wrote,
my favorite corset has seen better days. A firm
control foundation corset is a must have garment
for the glamorous and fashionable señoras, older
women, and she could not find a store in Lima
that sold them any longer. Spanx girdles were in
vogue; a wardrobe staple of the younger women,
but Mamama still preferred an old fashioned corset with stays and bones.
The string was my elderly grandmother’s waist
measurement. How very ingenious, I thought.
In addition to the string, Mamama had also enclosed a clipping of a corset from what appeared
to be a circa-1950s Sears, Roebuck & Company
catalogue, her all-time favorite store selling “Made
In USA” quality products.
Truth be told, shopping was one of my least
favorite activities, but since I’d been entrusted
with the task of finding the perfect vintage style
corset for my beloved grandmother, I was eager
and ready to get it over with. We started out with
Sears, Mamama’s preferred USA store, where my
husband went to check out the tools and electronic gadgets, while I made a beeline to women’s
lingerie.
“I’m looking for a corset,” I told the young
saleswoman. She looked puzzled so I showed her
the sepia-tone clipping.
“It’s for my elderly grandmother who lives in
South America,” I announced. She consulted
her supervisor and informed me Sears no longer
carried corsets, only girdles, and nothing like the
one in the clipping.
The next stop was The Bon Marché, a local
treasure in Seattle, where the women’s foundations department was located in the store’s basement.
“May I help you?” asked the friendly middle-aged saleswoman.
“I’m in search of an old-fashioned corset, the
kind that has bones and stays,” I responded and
showed her the clipping, “it’s for my grandmother.”
“We don’t sell many of these anymore but
we keep a few on-hand,” she said, smiling and
led the way to the sales rack, tucked away in the
back corner. It held a small selection of vintage
looking corsets in various sizes and colors, similar
to the one in the clipping. To my surprise and
delight, my grandmother’s size and preferred color
were in stock. The foundation garment shopping
mission accomplished, we returned to the University District to have lunch at our favorite Mexican
restaurant, a few blocks away from our student
apartment.
For several weeks I had imagined my first
afternoon back home in Miraflores; I saw myself
at my family’s Sunday luncheon sipping a Pisco
sour cocktail and nibbling Tomasita’s homemade
empanadas, and spicy beef heart grilled kabobs,
anticuchos.
On the day I left for Peru, I waited in line to
check luggage at Sea-Tac Airport with my husband. “You must be so excited,” he said.
I laughed. “Of course, that’s an understatement!”
A few hours after arriving at my uncle and
aunt’s house in Miraflores I had unpacked and
sorted out the family’s gifts. I laid out corset
encargo on my bed along with the letter, string,
and clipping. Mamama appeared somewhat distraught when she saw vintage steel boned corset