Published Wednesday, April 09, 2008 10:52 AM
Updated Wednesday, April 09, 2008 10:53 AM

 

Watts Line 04/10/08

Shopping for prom revealing


I’ve not had the fun of shopping for prom dresses since I bought my own – we’ll just say it was a long while back.

Our all-boy offspring contingent didn’t exactly go nuts over getting together an ensemble for prom. So I missed out on the full prom experience – not that I don’t love being mom to my guys. But girls they aren’t. So when my sister asked if she and her daughter could come down from Rock Hill to shop, I said yes. Sounded like a prissy, girlie weekend.

So the day arrived and the shopping began. We hit the first store as prom princess began her quest for finery. She quickly flipped through the dresses on the racks and pronounced the selection lacking. We moved on to the next store, one we knew to hold great promise.

And it did.

“I need a size 2,” Princess told the sales associate. (I haven’t worn a size 2 since I WAS 2.) They set up a dressing room for her, and as she made selections the associate whisked them away.

And that’s when the fun began. The donning of the gowns.

She put on the first one and it was gorgeous. Pristine white. It fit pretty good, too. But not quite right.

Then she emerged in dress number two. It fit as if it’d been made for her. She looked elegant and individual.

We all oohed and aahed and she and the dress did a turn around the floor. “Glorious,” we agreed. And not a mass-market dress – one of which only a few were made.

“Well, that was easy,” I announced to my sister and niece and began gathering my purse and jacket, putting on my sunglasses.

My sister looked at me as if I surely had lost my mind..

“What?” I asked her, puzzled at why she wasn’t whipping out her checkbook to pay for the dress.

“We aren’t done yet.”

“But you found the dress. I thought we all agreed that this is the dress.”

“And it probably is the one she’ll get, but we have to look at all the other stores to be sure this is the best one.”

“You’re kidding?” I asked. The look on her face indicated that she was not kidding. “None of the other stores will have anything that even comes close to this,” I said, trying to figure out what she hoped to find that had not already been discovered. (After all, I was used to dragging manchildren to the store whereupon they would agree to buy anything I put in front of them just to make the shopping event end.)

“We have to continue shopping. That’s part of the fun.”

“But if you know this is the one she’s going to buy, why continue?”

“Because she wants to be sure,” Sis said and turned just as her 18-year-old fashionista emerged from the dressing room in yet another beautiful gown. It was pretty, but didn’t touch the first one. There just wasn’t any way to beat the semi-selected dress.

I looked at my watch. 10:30 a.m. We’d been at it for only half an hour.

For the next eight hours, we shuffled from store to store, looked at hundreds of dresses, and watched as each dress was greeted with a shake of her pretty head, an uninterested fingering of the fabric, a sniff of dismissal.

At 5:30 p.m. a pronouncement was made: “The first dress is THE dress. Mom, will you go and get it,” she asked as she headed off with a friend to return to Rock Hill. Sis and I were left to assess the damages and fetch the dress before the store closed. Which we did. And then we sat very still in a hotel restaurant and reviewed the events of the day, had a little refreshment and went home.

Prom is in a few weeks. Niece will look great – in the second dress she tried on.

I’ve decided I like being mom to boys. I’m sure of it.

Contact Judy Watts at 873-9424, ext. 220 or jwatts@journalscene.com.