Every women should have at least one special dress in her lifetime that makes her feel joyous about herself. Like that first prom dress. Remember the excitement and anticipation you felt as you got dressed that night? The butterflies in your stomach when your date arrived so handsome in his tux, shyly looking down as he handed you a corsage. Or your wedding gown. How many dresses did you try on before you found the one that was going to make this day, your day, one filled with magic and memories you would never forget? Yes, every woman should have that one special dress.
Having never gone to my prom or gotten married, and with the arrival of my sixtieth birthday this year, I realized I had lived my entire life without ever getting to experience that belle-of-the-ball feeling that only a truly magnificent dress can give you. Turning sixty can be unnerving. Thoughts of your own mortality start rearing their ugly heads with alarming frequency. But except for my arms, which that bastard Father Time has seen fit to replace with chicken skin, I still look great. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that on good day, and with proper lighting, I might actually be considered hot by some. So going with that, I decided that the theme of the birthday party my friends were giving me would be “Sixty is the new forty” and it was about damn time I bought myself the dress.
I’m not wealthy by any means, but I knew that only a designer frock would do and after trying on dress after dress, reducing more than one sales lady to tears, and hours spent on the Internet comparison shopping, of course, there it was. And it couldn’t have been more perfect. A lovely Nicole Miller gold sheath with a gold lace and sequined overlay that had ever-so-subtle specks of garnet red in it. The little lace cap sleeves did nothing to hide my chicken arms, but my bust was prominently featured and, as it turned out, provided a much-appreciated diversion. I accessorized with antique-looking gold and garnet jewelry, a garnet satin clutch, and obsessed over just the right shade of garnet nail polish. For shoes, I found elegant gold heels that could have been made for the dress and, as a bonus, made my size nine feet look positively dainty. I justified the cost of the ensemble by prorating it over the sixty years of my lifetime, something I’d highly recommend to anyone considering such a purchase.
The night of the party finally arrived. I’d asked all my friends to dress in their very best black tie attire, and we would have been welcomed on any red carpet anywhere. The champagne flowed. Cameras flashed. We danced till we dropped. And me? Well … I was finally the belle of the ball.
