The Dress

Waaaaayyyy back in 1992 I had the pleasure of attending a local theater awards show. This event was one of those high-falutin', whoop-de-doo dress-up events. The previous year I attended that same theater awards show in a silver sequinned  full-length halter gown that was a knock-off of a 1930's vintage that I purchased back in 1974 at a now defunct Frederick's of Hollywood store at the local mall. By the way, that dress is still hanging in my closet, because you never know when it might come in handy again.

Well, not wanting to wear that one a second time and, being short on cash as usual, I visited the local K-Mart for something appropriate yet inexpensive. Lo and behold I spotted THE PERFECT little black dress, a ruched number with fine black lace netting at the peekaboo cleavage. It was the black version of a slightly different knock-off of a white version Madonna wore in one of her hit movies, and it was the only one in this style left on the rack. When I tried it on in the dressing room I found it accentuated all the right places and fit perfectly (ah... the word "perfect" again). I think the frock set me back about twenty bucks, counting tax.

Do I have to tell you THAT ONE also still hangs in my closet today? Oh, wait - I just told you. Silly me.

Anyway, getting to the point of this story...

At intermission time, I went out to partake of a smoke at a side of the building where us smokers could pollute our lungs without polluting those of the non-addicted in the vicinity. Actually, I went there mostly to avoid the dirty looks of the non-smokers who viewed us tobacco addicts as scummy trash who should be shot on sight.

But I digress again. This is what happens when I write after midnight.

The only other person in this segregated spot was a young and slightly (very slightly) overweight woman puffing her way to future COPD just like me. The first thing I noticed about her was her face. She was stunningly beautiful. The second thing I noticed as I smiled and told her hello was her angrily down-turned lips and the glare in her eyes as she assessed me. No way was she ever going to cast a friendly smile my way. No way. No how. Not in a million years. Her reason for her bad attitude was the third thing I noticed: she was wearing the same style dress I was wearing.

She must have been at the cash register with hers at the same time I was removing its only remaining sister off the rack.

Well, summannagun...

It looked great on her. I could not fathom why she was so angry that we had chosen the same dress. As a matter of fact, if she had just smiled a little and quit slouching, that dress would have done a lot more for her in response.

Although she was mortified, I found our twin dresses quite amusing. It was no big deal to me, and I tried to assuage her resentment with my honest appraisal, "I must say that dress looks better on you! Isn't it funny we chose the same one?"

She smoked and glared at me.

I tried once more with a statement I hoped would shatter her wall of ice, "This just goes to show that we have exquisite taste, doesn't it."

Still glaring, she dropped her cigarette and ground it out with the toe of her pointy black pump. With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders still slumped, but just a little bit higher.

Some people just have no sense of humor.