Threads of Truth

A Transgender Coming of Age Romance

From the Harmony Aspirant Universe

Chapter 2: Museum Pieces

By Ariel Montine Strickland

How will Kiki's work with Rose on former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir's dress go, as Rose initially meets Julian, who works for the museum to preserve history in dresses?

Copyright 2025 by Ariel Montine Strickland.
All Rights Reserved.

Kiki bounded into the kitchen with loads of energy early in the morning. She had already gotten ready to travel to work with her hair and makeup already done to be modeling another Denver historical icon woman's outfit today. She had plenty of time to surprise her mother with her favorite breakfast, honeydew melon with banana pancakes and syrup and a strawberry smoothy just the way she liked it. She wanted her mother in a great mood because she was ready to make a big ask of her.

Her mother was surprised and delighted to find both her, already ready for the day, daughter Kiki, that she found out yesterday evening would have her own name due to Grandmother Rose's selection, and her favorite breakfast presented on the table.

"Sweetheart, I'm delighted that you are so happy this morning and I can't wait to eat this wonderful breakfast. What can i do for you today, Kiki?"

"Mother, everything clicked for me yesterday and it just came to me that I truly am Kiki. Could you find out what it would take for me to physically transition? Once I let myself out of hiding for real and not just hiding behind a persona, I realized that what I unleashed could not be contained ever again. Please Mother." said Kiki with a look on her face that showed her that this was Kiki's heart's desire."

"Do you remember when after you asked about being different from other boys or girls and you demonstrated that you were mature enough to know the whole answer that I took you to see Dr. Jacinda Ford who explained everything about you being intersexed and that in your case you would have to make a choice of being either Matthew or Kiki for the rest of your life to avoid cancer?"

"Yes, Mother, I remember, I started hormone blockers then and Dr. Ford told me that I would need surgery no matter who was my true self to set things right. I appreciate how wonderfully both of you have helped keep me healthy and buy me the time needed for me to know without a doubt, my true self."

"I'll call her office first thing today to set things in motion to you becoming Kiki. We'll get you in for all the tests Dr. Ford ordered this morning and hopefully a physical. I'll confirm our standing 9 AM appointment for the tests and see if you can also get the physical. I'll call Grandmother Rose with the good news and to let her know you'll be coming in after lunch to work."

"That's fantastic, Mother. Thank you for your unconditional love and your exceptional care that you take of me." said Kiki and wrapped her up in a hug and kissed her cheek.

"After Dr. Ford has the information, we'll meet with her to see what the next steps will be. We'll call Judge Lathrop to set in motion the process to unseal and publish your Kiki birth certificate and have the Matthew birth certificate sealed. I'm so glad that my daughter Kiki is here to stay. I love you, sweetie!" said June with tears of joy as she kissed Kiki as they embraced.

"I love you too, Mother! You are so good to me!" said Kiki as she broke the hug to sit down with her mother for breakfast.

June pulled out her phone and made the calls to start her daughter on the path toward her new life.

Ally in the Making
The morning light filtered through the vintage dress shop's front windows, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floors as Julian Martinez adjusted his camera strap and checked his documentation equipment one final time. The Denver Art Museum had entrusted him with cataloging historically significant pieces for their upcoming exhibition on Colorado fashion history, and Grandmother Rose's shop had been recommended as a treasure trove of authentic vintage garments.

Julian pushed open the door, setting off the gentle chime of brass bells that announced his arrival. The shop's interior embraced him with the familiar scent of aged fabric, lavender sachets, and something indefinably comforting that reminded him of his grandmother's attic. Rows of carefully organized vintage clothing hung from wooden racks, each piece positioned with obvious care and respect.

"You must be Julian," came a warm voice from behind the counter. Rose emerged from the back room, her silver hair pinned in an elegant chignon, wearing a perfectly tailored 1950s-day dress in navy blue with tiny white polka dots. Despite being in her seventies, she moved with the grace of someone who had spent decades understanding how clothing should flow with the body.

"Mrs. Rose, thank you for agreeing to work with the museum," Julian said, extending his hand. Her handshake was firm, her eyes bright with intelligence and something that looked remarkably like mischief.

"Just Rose, dear. And the pleasure is entirely mine," she replied, gesturing toward the racks of clothing. "I've been waiting years for someone who would truly appreciate what these pieces represent. They're not just fabric and thread—they're stories, dreams, the courage of women who wore them through extraordinary times."

Julian felt his professional excitement building as Rose led him deeper into the shop. His doctoral work in fashion history had focused on how clothing served as both personal expression and social documentation, particularly for marginalized communities. The museum project represented everything he'd been working toward—preserving stories that might otherwise be lost.

"I understand you specialize in documenting pieces that tell stories of underrepresented communities," Rose said, as if reading his thoughts. "That's exactly what we need. Too many collections focus only on the wealthy and famous, missing the real history of how ordinary women used fashion to claim their power."

She stopped before a rack of 1940s dresses, her fingers trailing along the fabric with obvious affection. "This section holds some of our most significant pieces. Working women's clothing from the war years, when fashion had to be both practical and beautiful. Each dress tells a story of resilience."

Julian pulled out his digital camera and began photographing the overall collection, making mental notes about lighting and angles. His external goal was straightforward—document these pieces thoroughly for the museum's consideration. But something about Rose's passion and the obvious care she'd taken with each garment stirred something deeper in him.

"The museum is particularly interested in pieces that demonstrate how fashion reflected social changes," Julian explained, adjusting his camera settings. "Your collection seems perfect for showing how women's roles evolved during the 1940s."

Rose nodded approvingly. "Exactly what I hoped you'd understand. Fashion isn't frivolous—it's how women have always negotiated their place in the world. During the war, these dresses had to work in factories and offices, but still help women feel feminine and powerful."

As Julian began his detailed documentation, Rose proved to be an invaluable resource. She knew the provenance of nearly every piece, sharing stories about the women who had owned them. A burgundy wool dress with clever pleating had belonged to a riveter at the Martin Marietta plant. A navy suit with hand-embroidered details had been worn by one of Denver's first female bank tellers.

"How do you know so much about these pieces?" Julian asked, genuinely impressed by her encyclopedic knowledge.

Rose smiled mysteriously. "When you've been in this business as long as I have, you learn that every garment carries its history in the seams. But more than that—I make it my business to know. These women deserve to have their stories remembered."

Julian found himself drawn not just to the clothing, but to Rose's obvious dedication to preservation and storytelling. His internal need for genuine connection, something that had been missing from his purely academic pursuits, began to stir as he recognized a kindred spirit.

"The museum will be thrilled with this collection," he said, photographing a particularly stunning evening gown in emerald silk. "These pieces perfectly illustrate the intersection of practicality and beauty that defined 1940s fashion."

"I'm glad you see it," Rose replied, watching him work with obvious approval. "Too many people look at vintage clothing and only see old things. But you understand—these are artifacts of courage."

As the morning progressed, Julian felt increasingly comfortable in the shop's atmosphere. Rose's warmth and expertise made the documentation process feel more like a collaboration than a professional assignment. She anticipated his questions, provided historical context he hadn't expected, and seemed genuinely excited about the museum's mission.

The Restoration Process
Kiki approached the restoration with the reverence of an archaeologist handling ancient artifacts. She began with a thorough evaluation, examining every seam and fiber under magnification to understand the garment's construction and condition. The dress bore the telltale signs of its era: hand-finished buttonholes, French seams throughout, and the particular weight of wool that could only have come from early twentieth-century mills.

The fabric had yellowed slightly at the collar and cuffs, evidence of countless evenings spent leaning over tea glasses while passionate discussions filled the small rooms of the Korngold home. Small tears along the hem revealed the dress's journey through Denver's unpaved streets, from North High School to the cleaning and pressing shop where Golda worked part-time.

Using techniques passed down through generations of seamstresses, Kiki began the delicate process of cleaning. She mixed a gentle solution of white vinegar and water, testing it first on an inconspicuous seam before applying it to the stained areas. The restoration required weeks of patient work—hand-washing sections in lukewarm water, pressing with weights rather than heat, and carefully mending the frayed edges with thread she had specially dyed to match the original color.

The most challenging aspect was repairing a small burn mark near the right sleeve, likely from standing too close to the coal stove during those long Denver winters. Kiki used a technique called invisible mending, carefully weaving new threads into the existing fabric until the damage disappeared.

Kiki Collaboration
"I should mention," Rose said as they paused for tea, "I have a young assistant who helps with the restoration work. Kiki has an extraordinary gift for understanding these garments. You might find her insights valuable for your documentation."

Julian nodded, making a note in his project folder. "I'd appreciate any additional expertise. The more context we can provide, the better the exhibition will serve its educational purpose."

Rose's eyes twinkled with what Julian was beginning to recognize as her characteristic knowing look. "Oh, I think you'll find Kiki's perspective quite illuminating. She has a way of bringing these dresses to life that's truly remarkable."

As Julian packed up his equipment for the day, he felt a satisfaction that went beyond professional accomplishment. The shop's atmosphere, Rose's passion, and the obvious care taken with each garment had awakened something in him—a sense of purpose that his academic work alone hadn't provided.

"When would be convenient for me to return?" he asked, already looking forward to continuing the project.

"Tomorrow morning would be perfect," Rose replied. "Kiki will be here then, and I think you'll find the combination of documentation and restoration work quite fascinating."

Julian left the shop with his camera full of images and his mind full of possibilities. The museum project had begun as a professional assignment, but Rose's mentorship and obvious wisdom suggested it might become something much more significant. For the first time in months, his work felt connected to something larger than academic achievement—it felt like preserving the courage and dreams of women who deserved to be remembered.

As he walked back to his car, Julian found himself already planning his return, eager to meet the assistant Rose had mentioned and to continue documenting what was clearly one of Denver's most significant vintage collections. The project was off to an excellent start, though he had no idea how much his life was about to change.

Wearing History
When Kiki finally slipped the dress over her head, she felt the weight of history settle around her shoulders. The wool was heavier than modern fabrics, substantial in a way that spoke of permanence and purpose. The dress fit differently than contemporary clothing—higher waisted, longer in the torso, with sleeves that extended precisely to the wrist.

As she fastened the small pearl buttons that Golda's fingers had worked countless times, Kiki could almost feel the presence of that determined young woman who had fled Milwaukee to pursue her education. The dress carried within its fibers the essence of someone who refused to accept the limitations others placed upon her, who chose learning over an arranged marriage, who dreamed of building a homeland while serving tea to tubercular immigrants seeking Denver's healing air.

Living Stories in the Shop
When customers entered the vintage boutique that day, they encountered more than just a woman in an old dress—they met history walking among the clothes racks. The dress transformed Kiki into a storyteller, her voice carrying the cadence of someone channeling another era.

"This belonged to a girl who would become a prime minister," she would tell curious browsers, her hands smoothing the wool skirt as Golda might have done while contemplating her future. "She wore it to meetings where they planned to change the world, one conversation at a time".

A young college student, drawn by the dress's simple elegance, listened intently as Kiki described how Golda had worked in her brother-in-law's cleaning shop by day and attended political discussions by night. "She was just seventeen," Kiki explained, "the same age as you, when she decided her own path".

An elderly woman touched the fabric gently, her eyes misting as she recalled her own immigrant grandmother's stories. "The weight of it," she murmured, "clothing meant something different then. It had to last". Kiki nodded, understanding that the dress served as a bridge between generations, connecting personal memories to historical narratives.

Throughout the day, the dress drew people into conversations about courage, determination, and the immigrant experience in early twentieth-century America. Each interaction became a moment of connection, as if Golda's spirit lived on in the fabric she had once worn while dreaming of the future. The dress had become more than a garment—it was a vessel for preserving and sharing the story of a remarkable woman whose Denver years had shaped not just her own destiny, but the course of history itself.