18 • LEGACY
BY VIOLET PETRIKAS
W
hen I was four years old, I had a Minnie Mouse dress that I refused to take off. The dress was black and red, with bright white polka dots and a graphic of a grinning Minnie Mouse on the chest. My mother thought very little of the dress when she first purchased it from the Gift Shop during one of our regular visits to Disneyland, but this simple pajama-like dress soon became the staple of my wardrobe and an eyesore for both of my parents. I wore the dress
everywhere: biking outside, playing in the dirt with my sister, to the mall. About six months into my sartorial marathon, the stark white polka dots were stained with mud and the material was awkwardly stretched. And it may have had a few small rips. But these blemishes did not stop me from wearing the dress to the beach, to relatives’ homes, or to Disneyland— where I got to meet Minnie while wearing Minnie. Sick of looking at the thing, my mother often tried to coax me out of it. Tempting me with adorable
