Rainy Mornings, Irma Thomas, and Dressing Like Old Money

It was one of those soft, rainy mornings, the kind where the world moves a little slower, and everything feels wrapped in a layer of stillness. Shrimp and grits, biscuits and gravy, and a fresh pot of coffee filled the house with warmth, but what really set the tone was Irma Thomas playing through the speakers.

When Grandma Marie cleaned, she didn’t just clean—she set the mood, she made it a whole experience. And when the rain came down, you could bet Irma was on the playlist. The moment It’s Raining floated through the house, I knew what time it was. Mop bucket out, furniture polish in the air, and that familiar hum in Grandma’s throat as she wiped down the counters.

“You hear that?” she said, half-dancing as she worked. “Irma just got a way of making a rainy day feel like a story.”

Once the house was spotless and smelling like lemon Pledge and pine cleaner, Grandma got that look in her eye—the one that meant she had a plan.

“C’mon, bébé, let’s go downtown. I feel like tryin’ on somethin’ nice.”

And just like that, we were on our way to Krauss, that classic department store where the perfume section always smelled too strong, and the dresses were too expensive for either of us to be fooling with. But that wasn’t the point.

We weren’t buying a thing. We were just being women.

We picked out the finest coats, tried on gowns like we had somewhere fancy to be, and spun around in front of the mirrors, admiring ourselves like we owned the world.

Grandma slipped into a deep blue dress, smoothed the fabric over her hips, and grinned. “Now tell me I don’t look like old money.”

“You look like you own a jazz club,” I teased, already wrapped up in a coat that felt way too luxurious for my 17-year-old self.

We laughed, pretending just for the fun of it, living in the moment, feeling beautiful without needing to spend a dime. And when we were done? We put everything right back and walked out like we had just closed the deal on something big.

She passed away in 2022, and every now and then, I think about moments like that.

How a rainy morning with Irma Thomas on the speakers could turn into a day of laughter, pretending, and feeling like royalty just because we wanted to.

How Grandma had this way of making life feel richer than money ever could.

And how sometimes, I still catch myself humming It’s Raining while wiping down the counter—like she’s still right there with me.