I was searching for my missing gown, and found something worth much more
It was a couple of weeks until my son’s wedding, and I still hadn’t found a dress.
Amid a hundred other preparations, I pulled myself away and started working my way through the stores. Glitter, glimmer, tulle, sheer. Colors raining and sparkling. It was dizzying. So many fabrics between my fingers. One store, another.
Then, there it was. A beautiful dress, black lace on cream. It needed some adjusting, some matching lace to lengthen it. I didn’t think it was that big a deal.
But the lace was turning out to be a lot more complicated than I’d envisioned. If I don’t know dress stores, I was way out of my depth in the fabric and trimming stores. I trudged down Jaffa Street, clutching the stiff, pretentious paper bag with the dress inside. It was heavy and expensive, and I was uncomfortable schlepping it up and down the street, taking it out again and again. All afternoon I tried to match it up, make it work. Nothing.
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