O V E R
T H E
( N E X T )
H I L L
Fashion or Comfort? Maybe you can have both. BY GAIL GRANT
GARL AND HANEY
D
Velvet Haney (left) and Rachel Manley show off the swimwear they designed for women “who aren’t at Woodstock anymore.”
S N A P S H O T
|
M E E T
A
o you ever get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and think, Is this for real? Initially lockdowns allowed us freedom from the scrutiny of others. Lazy attire was okay. With nowhere to go and only our nearest and dearest as witnesses, what was the point of fussing? Perhaps a few pandemic pounds appeared, or there was some weight redistribution or, in the absence of the regular six-week root touch-up with the hairstylist, the uncoloured roots took over – until they simply couldn’t be called roots anymore. I am gradually getting used to my new, natural hair colour, but as I went from summer gold to winter silver, the shades in my wardrobe were no longer compatible with my colouring, which means my closet needs a drastic makeover. And it’s not just the colours. Nothing seems to fit anymore. Things hang where they should fit – and fit (snugly, mostly) where they should hang. But of course, that shopping spree has been on hold. By the time we reach our 60s, 70s and beyond, I think we’re all on a spectrum when it comes to personal body image.
C O M M U N I T Y
E L D E R
Connie Tersigni
A
fter more than three decades serving her community as a rural mail carrier, Connie Tersigni decided to retire last December. “Mostly, I loved my job, but the decision came down to one word — ice,” she says. Connie had tumbled in each of the past three years, and at 65, she didn’t want to chance another fall. Her familiar face and cheerful wave were part of the tapestry of the community around Palgrave, where she could be counted on to go the extra mile. If a parcel was too big for the mailbox, customers would find it on their doorstep. And her van was never without dog treats. She got to know most of the local mutts by name, and her supply of treats ensured that nearly all of them greeted her enthusiastically. The eldest of three daughters, Connie grew
98
I N
T H E
H I L L S
S U M M E R
2 0 21
up on a farm near Bervie in Bruce County. After studying food technology, she moved to Toronto to take a job at Humber Memorial Hospital and met her husband, Gino. The couple later moved to Orangeville to start their family. In 1989, Connie successfully bid for a rural mail route, which offered independence and flexibility for a mom with young children. Most rural and suburban mail couriers, or RSMCs, were — and are — women. As independent contractors at the time, RSMCs were paid less than Canada Post employees and didn’t enjoy the same job rights and benefits. “We had some really strong, independent women who felt that we deserved to be part of the union,” says Connie. Their struggle was long and hard, but they ultimately prevailed. In 2004, RSMCs became members of the Canadian Union of Postal Workers.
Some days we assess our body strictly by its appearance; others we judge it by how well it performs everyday activities. On days I lean to appearance anxieties, I confess if I were to slip in the shower, I’d be less worried about a few broken bones than about my rescuer seeing my naked torso. And on days when I’m preoccupied by performance, I obsessively focus on achieving my daily 10,000 step goal, rather than settling for the number of steps I accumulate by roaming around the house in the never-ending hunt for my glasses (usually on top of my head) and cell phone (always where I last left it). But mostly, well aware of the futility of angst, I strive to be philosophical about my aging body and try to ignore the sags and creases. That’s easy enough in the winter, when I’m buried beneath my woollies, but it’s harder in the summertime. As Covid restrictions relax over the course of the next few weeks, I’m looking forward to invitations to backyard pool parties or perhaps cottages. And that means revealing this melting body in something that allows for frolicking in or near water. What to do? A few years ago, Caledon resident Velvet
