by Andrea Mulder-Slater
I bought this apron at a garage sale when I was in my last year of art school.
It was a warm fall day and my mom and I had taken a walk through a subdivision located just behind where my parents owned an audio store in Barrie Ontario.
The sale featured lots of trinkets and household items, but what stood out to me immediately was a thick, canvas, army green apron.
It was like new and wasn't covered in sappy flowers or silly sayings, making it a perfect match for my short, platinum blonde hair, Doc Martens and angst.
The fact that the homeowner threw it in along with a $5 set of dishes my mom and I decided to buy, was to me a sure sign from the universe that it and I were meant to be together.
Since then, this apron has seen a lot of activity. It's now stiff with cracked layers of paint, modeling paste and textural gels and I continue to put it on every time I start a new painting project.
When I think of all the things I've owned in my life, this apron is top on my list of most prized possessions, and I know that if I were ever to get rid of it, my ability to make art would disappear entirely.
So instead, I hold on.