The Great Dress Quest II: Oh, the Hem-anity!
After last week’s post you’ve no doubt been on pins and needles, nibbling your nails on my behalf, and wondering if there was found, anywhere in the city of Atlanta and its environs, a beachy, flowy, mother-of-the-groom dress for yours truly.
What’s that? You haven’t given my dress quest a second thought? No worries. I forgive you. See, I understand that the only person who really gives a flip about my dress is me, and by extension my husband Joe who, as mentioned last week, served as my driver/companion/fashion consultant, the latter being his least favorite job, although he’s been game enough about offering opinions and recommendations (he drew the line in Lingerie at Von Maur where he mistook the Spanx for wrestling gear). He’s made BFFs in every ladies department in the city and I’m the most envied of women.
So over the last few weeks I hit every mall and dress shop in Atlanta and came up empty. Finally, I tried on a dress we had bypassed earlier as, on the rack, it looked white. But “desperate times” and all that, so I gave it a go. It was silvery beige, not white. The price was a little steep, but the minute I smiled at Joe and he sensed the end was near he jumped up from the “husband chair” and said to the saleswoman, “Quick. Ring it up. And please hurry, for God’s sake, before she changes her mind.”
So, at long last, I possessed a dress!
Yeah. You know there’s more to the story, right? And let me just say here that it wasn’t my fault. I swear I was not being picky. Much.
The shoulder was hinky. I tried another and it was still hinky, but not as bad. “I’ll cope,” I said, and off we dashed. We were relieved until we arrived home and I tried it on again. My wonderful husband, who had long since earned the right to tell me he was through shopping forever, sighed the sigh of the damned and said, “We’ll go to the store again tomorrow. You need another dress.”
Yes, he’s a saint. I’m aware. I’ve already promised him a foot massage of stellar proportions.
We hit two more malls and ended up back at the store where we bought the dress hoping beyond hope that another identical dress would fit differently. As it turned out, I needed a smaller size (always a pleasant circumstance), and that fixed the hinky shoulder problem but did nothing for the tiered hemline which looked fine in the front but weird in the back. The helpful saleswoman pointed it out and there I was, back at square one. Felled by a screwy hemline. Until . . .
Yes! A different style dress by the same designer—blue this time—hung on the rack calling my name. Beachy? Check. Flowy? Check. Comfy? Double check.
It was a bit dressier than I wanted, but hot damn, Buttercup! We have a winner!
You’ve never in your life seen a more relieved man than my Joe in that moment. There was a new lightness to his step, and his laugh when he congratulated me on my find was ready and quick. It was indescribable, really—as was his expression when I told him it was time to shop for shoes.
Oh, yes, Buttercup, to paraphrase that famous Southern belle, Scarlet O’Hara, “Tomorrow’s another shopping day!”
See you next Wednesday for more of the naked truth—and wedding pictures! See that gorgeous pic of Siesta Key at the top of this post? That’s where my son proposed to his beautiful bride, and where the wedding will be. So romantic! **oh, sigh!**
P.S. The sandals I’ll be wearing were found within an hour of shopping, much to Joe’s relief. Now all we have to do is celebrate!