I BOUGHT A DRESS

Last year I bought a dress. 

I don’t buy dresses.  

I don’t wear dresses. 

Before this one, the last dress I bought was for my daughter’s wedding. She’s been married 24 years. 

I bought the “wedding dress” while on vacation in South Carolina. It was southern — filmy chiffon, rusty colored with flounces around the bottom — mint julep-y southern.  Never buy a dress while you’re on vacation. Vacation purchases are nearly always a mistake. I feel the same way about vacation artwork. When you get home, you spend days wondering if you lost your mind. The answer is obviously “yes." 

 The Tara Dress was on my body exactly 4 hours. Then it was relegated to a spare bedroom closet. We moved three times — three times the garment bag moved - unopened - with Scarlet O’Hara untouched. 

I finally sent the dress off to the consignment store. It got sold. Somebody else is wearing the flounces. I got a check for $22.00. All in all, a good trade. Consignment stores are better than catholic confessionals.  You get to erase the guilt and you get a refund at the end.

So, you rightly ask, why did I buy another dress? Because I’m old. Because I go to a lot of funerals these days. Because I looked in my closet and counted 14 pairs of black pants and wondered if I’d fallen into a rut. Because I discovered on line shopping! 

I like the newish dress and I’ve worn it three times already — once backwards. (That was a tiny mistake. The material is stretchy. Each section has a slightly different black and white print. It looked perfectly fine backwards! Except the pockets were pointed the wrong direction. I was at a funeral and reached for a tissue. That’s when I knew.)

Sue's Unique style

“Don’t pickle things.” I tripped over this sentence in the New York Times today. I love that sentence. It means don’t save the good china for “special.” Or the good undies. Or the dress. Life is short. You bought the dress so wear it. If you can’t bear to use the good china, give it away to somebody else. Your grandmother won’t care.

I’m taking seven pairs of black pants to the consignment store. Then I’m looking in the very back of every closet. Maybe some things just need some fresh air and new eyes.

Here’s a picture of Sue. I’ve always admired her unique, individual style. I’ll bet she doesn’t own 14 pairs of black pants or a Tara chiffon dress. That hat? Leather jacket? She’s had as long as I’ve known her. She doesn’t pickle things.  I like that about Sue.