Dress Stress
Megan Collier
Sept.11.11
Chiffon, taffeta or charmeuse? Three fabrics I have never heard of before. All hanging before me fashioned into long elegant prom dresses. Bateau, cowl or keyhole? The list of necklines never ends. One even titled a "crumb-catcher" extending out in every direction like a peacock. The associates of these boutiques all stare at me as though I should possess these answers. They can not comprehend the lack of knowledge that I have in this area. I scrutinize every detail of each dress, becoming more drained after everyone. I know that none are "the one".
My feet have become more cumbersome after each store, now dragging in exhaustion. I need a breather. I yearn to sit somewhere without sequin in sight. I try to fabricate the image of the dress I will wear. I can not do it. I try to distinguish what I despise from what I adore. I begin to build the list.
It has to be anything but ordinary. It has to exclaim Megan from every angle. It can not be a tea length or high calf, it must brush the floor. I want a dress void of sleeves and heavy beading.
This dress shopping is not for the faint of heart. My head is brimming with ideas. This task I once dreaded, I now hold some excitement for. I briskly walk down the bustling street. As I see an intriguing store I begin shimmying between the executives hurrying home from a day of work. I freeze speechless; staring at a storefront, knowing the hunt is over. Encased in a glass cage in front of me is an exquisite gown screaming my name. I can breathe once more, as I gaze at the dress I will wear to my prom.
The next task...shoes.
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