I wore this gorgeous dress (if I do say so myself) to Synagogue on Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement). I usually wore white every year growing up. I used to frequent the cute little boutique named *Image* on the Melrose strip. My mother patiently waited to see how her *neshama* (soul) looked in the stylish outfits we were so excited about. My mom loved fashion as well. I remember trying on all sorts of her elegant yet flamboyant colored shoes. Anywhere from purple to leopard print. She owned them. In hindsight it makes sense being that she was a long time English teacher at my elementary school as well as having *tailor* blood in her.. Her aunt taught at the school as well. On the day the esteemed, Leoni Flamm passed, was the day I realized the magnitude of who I really was: *Marcus Flamm’s great grandaughter*. I tried to bury it, but every time I walked passed the hallway of my childhood home, and quickly glanced at his portrait, I knew he must have been *really something*. Mrs. Spolsky made a point to announce *the* funeral that *the teachers* would be attending. She knew. And then I knew. But not everyone did. Grandma also knew. She used to keep the VHS of *the little prince* in my mom’s old bedroom. After all- this was her deceased 1st husbands father that im sure she still pondered about from time to time.