Of Mixology and Gowns

 So a friend posted a picture of an extra prom gown on her page. As a mom of two boys and someone who has worn a gown less than a handful of times, why would I even give such a thing a thought, let alone a glance?  I have worn a gown exactly four times: twice to my high school proms, both times my sister's dresses; a bridesmaid gown for the same sister's wedding; and my own wedding gown--and that was almost three decades ago. 

There was also a lot more material to any of those dresses than this one--deep V in front and backless save some criss-cross straps. But....it was also my favorite shade of blue. And....I have a gala coming up. I have worn the same little black dress to the same gala for almost two decades. I bought that dress for $43 and change when Strawbridges was closing down, both boys crawling around the dressing room and making noise while I wrestled my way in and out of that and two other dresses.

So a gown....had possibilties. Also, it's a deep blue, my favorite color. Also? My size. I message the friend who offers to drop it by.  And it's waiting for me in its bag when we pull up after errands yesterday. And I don't lose a minute getting it upstairs and trying it on. Hubby follows, because these moments are few and far between and provide him with infinite amusement. When I finally figure out the straps and wrestle it on, it's clear he is not impressed.

"Go look in G's mirror and see what you think," he tells me diplomatically.

I do and am disappointed. In my head, I'm still the size 4-6 I was into my early 40s, even though my actual extant wardrobe tells me otherwise. I look like someone going 55 in a 20 zone.

Still, I think, and say as I go back to our bedroom to hubby (who was ready with a tissue box), "I can work with this," I tell his skeptical face, "A jacket, something, let me see what I can come up with."

I summon G, who is on his computer, "Wanna go thrifting?"

Is the pope Catholic?

We head over to a place nearby with a crap parking lot and wait a few minutes while someone with a Suburban tries to figure out where to park it.  When we finally settle the car, G goes his way, and I go mine.

First order of business is finding a pair of coup or martini glasses and a mixing glass or a shaker.  As an adult, I know embarrassingly little about mixing drinks, having spent most of my life hiding behind my wine and beer snobbery because that was easier to maintain from a social standpoint. Dart club is teaching me all sorts of new things, especially that everyone is a beginner at some point. I find the glassware and the mixing glass with a strainer and move to my next conquest--something to add dignity to the dress now hanging in my closet.

As always, I won't know what I'm looking for until I find it. Fortunately, I know the numbers I need to hit to fit my wingspan and work my way through the racks. I'm about to give up hope when I see a rack I hadn't seen before--all the formal and higher end wear.  I know I'm going to succeed or fail on this rack, so move through the contents slowly. Most of the items are dresses or suits, but I see a few things that might work.

The first is XSP--which I have never been, not even in my thin days.

The second is SP--a size I could have gotten away with maybe 10 years ago, depending on what it was.

And the last is a solid 12.  With the tags still on. It's a simple white lacework jacket with a modest scoop neckline and hook and eye closures in the front and three quarter sleeves with a little ruffle at the ends. 

I try it on and...it fits. I take a picture of it and send it to hubby. He cautiously approves, since the thing is over a tee-shirt, and he doesn't necessarily see how I can make it work with the gown.

I look for G, who miraculously appears at my elbow and asks if I'm ready to go. We settle and head home. 

Back at home, I race back upstairs, hubby trailing behind, skeptical.  I put the dress on, and add the new jacket.  And his jaw drops.

"That....is elegant," is his observation. And it's clear, this time, he approves.

So if I don't get hit by a bus in the meantime, that is what I'm wearing to the gala.

Probably the last time I will ever wear a gown. And I'll be wearing it at the right speed. :)