De Ja Vu: The dearest friend to have

Walking down the Garden District in New Orleans was becoming more and more difficult for Jasmine. She could feel eyes on her as she entered the market. Sometimes, she even heard a scoff or blatant ridicule for her apparel. It was as if time had reversed pre- 1835, when fashion established status. Jasmine could remember when Greek gowns came into fashion. Where the inner self transcended the clothes worn on the body.

 There was irony to the way women of America wore their corsets now and how she was perceived. Five years ago, a fitted waste was the in-thing. Then, a more natural look became. One that didn’t squeeze the life out of your soul. A long flowing gown that cinched just under the chest. No puffy, off the shoulder sleeves. Just a simple look, really. The look she favored. But now, times went back – yet worse. Now, the corset was designed to push the breasts up to the chin, a pointed V to accentuate the waist, and sleeves that made a woman look like a whore. 

You couldn’t see Jasmine’s beautiful figure, but yet elegance still flowed with each step she took. Holding her head up high, believing that fashion didn’t matter, Jasmine finished her shopping. Heading to her parent’s mansion, she was stopped by De Ja Vu. De Ja Vu was the towns crystal ball. Every city had one. Generally, they could foresee a life changing experience in your future. Usually it meant one has a difficult decision that lays ahead. A person would feel as if the conversation had already happened, yet it had not. 

“Jasmine, I’ve been watching you for quite some time. I sense there is a weight upon your chest.  I also see how you are despised about it. Do you mind if we walk and talk for a moment?” 

Jasmine shook her head no, for she welcomed the pleasantry of his company. He, like her, didn’t feel the need to segregate people based on status. Where she lived many wealthy Americans had established themselves; condoning the creoles from such areas. It was not stated but a silent yet understood law. De Ja Vu was definitely creole. A mix between Spanish and French. 

“How are you today, De Ja Vu?” Jasmine politely asked. 

“Well, truth, there is a matter of the masquerade ball coming up. There will be strict rules on your dress. I understand your mother is adamant you wear what she has picked out. Your father seems to be distant on the issue. Then, there is you. Who wishes to wear what you designed.” De Ja Vu stated with conviction. 

Jasmine sighed, “Yes. It is true. With us riding the new Carrollton Railroad to the masquerade, mother feels as though our status in society will be made of ridicule. I just don’t understand. At one point, the dresses I wear, were to establish the reign of French was no longer. Now, they are not only hosting a ball representing the French, but the dresses are even more outlandish.”

“Yes, you are correct. The question still exists. What will you do?” 

“I don’t know.” Jasmine said as she felt like crying.

“There, there, Jasmine. I will tell you a few things. Maybe this places your mind at ease. Or maybe it doesn’t. In the end, the decision is yours to make. Over centuries, people sometimes embrace change. Generally, it is for the purpose of rebellion. As you see in your heart and mind, the dress changed for the better. Fashion no longer embodied tradition of status, but instead – allowed concentration on other areas, such as one’s hygiene and the soul. Change will come again to New Orleans around 1865, but we are here in 1835. Sometimes, what is good for one – others will mock out of jealousy or fear. It is the fear of the unknown which causes chaos. You embrace change and that is good. This is why I approached you.”

Thoughtful, Jasmine responded, “Why cannot you tell the people there is nothing to fear. They would listen to you. You are known for understanding the future and what it holds.”

“Dearest Jasmine, unfortunately, there are rules in our family. There is a limit to how much we may meddle. Just as I have the decision on who to aid, people have to make a decision based on knowledge I give.  Sometimes, it is the right one and other times, it is not. The more whom do the right thing, the better the world becomes. Yet, the less I do.” De Ja Vu said with a hint of a sigh. 

Jasmine smiled coyly, “I do not have your gift, but I sense there is a burden on your part because of this.”

“You are quite an observant woman. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.  We are all here to live and die. Our time is not known. It is given and taken away at will. Although, I can know when another’s time has come to an end, I do not know my own. The more I aid, it takes time off my life. That is the extent of my knowledge.”

“I see, De Ja Vu. Yet, you still help others. You do the good thing to die.” Jasmine felt sorry for him, but she seemed to understand more about life in general. “So, what you are saying is sometimes the good thing is not an easy one.” Jasmine’s voice rose towards the end. 

Nodding his head in contentment, De Ja Vu smiled and stopped walking. “This is where I bid you a farewell, Jasmine.” He said, as he gently took hold of her hand and kissed the top. 

Time had flown with De Ja Vu. Their talks had always been of the best caliber, but today was different. Jasmine sauntered toward her house with a refreshed zeal for life. If De Ja Vu can die so others may live better, then I can stand against hate about fashion. 

The night of the masquerade ball had come upon Jasmine. She told her mother and father, she would catch the horse and buggy to Carrolton. Although her mother pleaded she ride the new railroad, Jasmine was defiant on the subject. 

“Come dear”, Jasmine’s father said to her mother, “Jasmine is old fashioned. We should be commending that she wants to keep the mules in business.” He said with a hearty laugh. With that, her parents headed out the door. 

Moments later, Jasmine went to her walk in closet. She hid the simple, eloquent dress. White satin, with a train that extended a foot behind. A simple cinch between the breasts that concluded with a blue sapphire stone. The sash over the left shoulder matched. The simple silver beads sprawled around the hem, gave a weighted feeling. It tightened the slack, showing her hour glass figure. Whether she was the fool or the forward thinker in other’s eyes tonight, one thing was for sure; no one would be wearing anything like her creation. Unique and original was she and the dress. Her blonde shiny hair, spiraled to her waste. With a little rouge and the sliver poinsettia pulling up the right side of her hair, Jasmine felt wonderful. 

As the clopping of hooves neared the masquerade in Carrollton, uneasiness crept into Jasmine’s head. The closer the buggy got to the Parish’s Plantation, the confidence Jasmine had seemed to waiver. Jasmine thought back to the discussion she had with De Ja Vu. All warmth began to surround her. Being herself and not afraid of the future was the truth. The rest was mere inconvenience or illusion. Jasmine walked through the double doors, knowing the whirlwind or tornado to become. She smiled and grandly walked through the ballroom. There were gasps but the music didn’t stop. Without a mask and no corset – Jasmine was herself and proud of it. From a distance, she saw her parents mingling. She approached, expecting her mother to drag her outside by the hair. Instead, her mother had a pleasant smile. Almost as if she knew what Jasmine was going to do. 

“You look lovely my dear. Did you create this yourself?” 

Shyly, Jasmine answered, “Yes, mother.” She began to say sorry, when her mother stopped her. “I believe our neighbor, Jack, has been asking for hours about you. Why don’t you join him in a dance? You should be easy to spot, since your beautiful face is showing.” 

The night flew by. At midnight, everyone say down for a cold meal, before the elders headed to the room for gambling and scotch. That was the younger ones cue to go home. Gushing with happiness, Jasmine hashed over what the night brought. Possibly a beau and most definitely a career. No one seemed to mind the dress. Actually, most of the women of Carrollton prided themselves on being unique. Quite different atmosphere than the Garden District. Many of the women wanted her to design a dress for their personalities. Her mother even discussed opening a shop to which the women would come to her. 

Later that week, Jasmine had not seen De Ja Vu, and questioned if others had. Since he was creole most shook their head in disapproval. He was usually found within the common area. Since he was not there, Jasmine went to the other side of town. The place where all creoles seemed to live. They had their own smaller society within the bigger one. There, she knew answers could be found. 

Some hours later, after walking, she heard the music. Jasmine knew this was the place. De Ja Vu had told her that their music was exceptional. Even that compared to what was played in Congo Square. He was right. It seemed richer. More feeling involved compared to that heard at parties and balls of the prestigious. Once in the parish, Jasmine asked everyone she encountered if they knew where De Ja Vu was. She wanted to thank him for giving the confidence needed to do what felt good in the heart. 

Even though many had smiles on their faces, Jasmine felt a pit in her stomach. No one said anything, just pointed fingers to the way of De Ja Vu. Finally, the fingers stopped pointing. One older lady locked arms with her and ushered her a specific way.  Jasmine kept her head down, occasionally glancing at the elderly woman. Then at once, the feet stopped moving. The woman ushered her hand in a forward motion. “Ale sou la. Ale sou la. Go over there.” The woman muttered. 

Jasmine lifted her head. It was a grave stone that read, “He died to help others”. Jasmine began to sob. De Ja Vu helped for the last time. It was her life saved and his life gone. The mixed feelings stirred inside. Why did he help her? He could have helped so many others? Her silly dresses meant nothing compared to that. 

As if the old lady heard her thoughts. She put her wobbly finger to Jasmine’s mouth, as if to hush her. Then, she took the hand away and tapped Jasmine’s temple gently.  In the next motion, she made fluttered her fingers- as if to signify something was flying away. Jasmine looked into the woman’s eyes. She knew them. They were the same as De Ja Vu’s. The old lady was related to him. Maybe a grandmother or mother. It was at that moment, Jasmine understood. All the men, if good men, die before the women. The suffering of their life is monumental compared to what most see or ever will. Yet, they respect one another and thankful for their place in life. Although Jasmine had seen glimpses of this in others, she knew in the families of De Ja Vu’s, they always understood this fact of life. 

Jasmine’s crying was from selfishness. She knew in this world, De Ja Vu was the only true friend one could have. That would be dearly missed. For in the sea of people, alone did she always feel. That was.. until him. Jasmine paid her respects and headed home. 

Years would pass by, and Jasmine would always keep a look out for De Ja Vu. For even though it would not be the first on