THE Magic Ruby-Red Dress Story

Last week, I got a text from a friend saying her little sister got asked to Prom and would love to try on my dresses. Without a second thought, I immediately said, "Of course!"  And then I thought of THE dress. Hanging in my closet. With a dead cricket in the bag with the tiara. I wasn't so sure I was ready to share that one. 

~ One year ago ~

I meandered my way through the racks of silk, satin, and shiny soft frills, occasionally pushing the dresses back for a better look. Nothing caught my eye. Too much sparkle, too low-cut, too plain, too fancy, just too not me. Group USA at Arizona Mills Mall had successfully produced 3 of my 4 past dance dresses (2 of them were only $17 and $19!), so naturally, that's where I started looking for my Prom dress. I didn't really have anything in mind. Maybe red. But that's about it. All I knew was that I was going with my very best friend to Senior Prom, and the dress had to be special.


I kept looking, but nothing sparked my interest. And I HATE shopping, so I was starting to get restless and grumpy. Just as I got to the end of the clearance rack, something in  my left peripheral sent my heart racing. In slow motion, I turned around, hardly daring to look. There, in the very back corner of the store, behind all the wedding dresses and Cinderella ball gowns, hung THE dress. I know, that's only supposed to happen when you're getting married and go dress shopping with all your giggling girlfriends, but the heavens opened, light shone down, and the angels started singing I tell you! I could tell from where I stood that, even inside the plastic bag, it was PERFECT. Dark ruby taffetta, gathered skirt, no ostentatious ornaments- it was calling me. But I didn't dare go over there, let alone try it on. I could only cringe at the thought of what a gorgeous creation like that must cost. Calmly, I took a deep breath, and turned back to face the now-hopeless selection.


I kept pretending to search as my mom flitted around keeping 18 mo. old Tressie dazzled with all the pretty princess dresses. Just as I was ready to call it quits and suggest we leave, I heard my mom call, "Wow! Karli, come look at this one!" I didn't even have to look to know. Faking disinterest, I turned to see my mom holding my dress- well, the one that sang to me but wouldn't actually be mine.


"Try it on! I want to see you in it." Again, I cringed. I didn't have to try it on to know it was the one. That would only make leaving it there that much harder.


"No, Mom," I sighed. "I know, it's gorgeous, but there's no way we can afford to spend that much on just a dress. I'll just try these on," I said, holding up my meager, incomparable finds, "and then we can go."


But she pushed. It was just for fun anyway, and then we could put it back on the hangar and leave, right? I dragged my feet into the dressing room (dressing rooms are on my top 10 list of least favorite places to be), and started the drudging process of stuffing and sucking and zipping and straightening. All the dresses were "pretty," but I saved THE dress for last. I pulled it out of the bag and nearly gasped at the beauty. What I'd thought were merely gathers in the skirt turned out to be small clumps of delicate, taffeta roses, each with a small beaded cluster at the center to add the tiniest hint of sparkle. Red roses. My favorite. I slipped into it and zipped up the back. It fit perfectly. I floofed the skirt out here and there a little bit, smiling to myself. I felt like a princess. There was no way that gown was going back on the hangar.


Taking a deep breath and regaining some composure, I stepped out of the stall into the hallway. My mom gasped, Tressie couldn't contain her excitement and kept telling me, "Tawly (karli), you's beautiful!" The other mothers and daughters in the room all turned and gaped, oo-ed and awe-ed, and inquired as to where in the store we had found that stunning dress. I caught my mom staring at the dress. I could see the apology in her eyes. There was no way we would ever actually spend that much money on it. We snapped some pictures so we could set out for something similar, and if we had to, we could ask Granny to work her magic (seamstress fairy-godmother). After a few more minutes of swishing around in the mirrors, I finally took it back off and gently fit it back in the bag. We handed it back to the bewildered store assistant, and I said farewell.


As I walked out of the store, I had little hope that we'd find anything even close. We walked through a couple more stores as we made our way out, but I was right. Nothing compared. One was at least the right color, with a really pretty, full skirt, but the bodice was way too gaudy, especially when compared with the wrapped elegance of the perfection I'd just experienced.


The drive home included a quick stop at a fabric store, testing the slim chance that maybe there was a similar pattern and fabric hidden somewhere in the maze. But, alas, there was not. The feeling that I'd just have to end up "settling" for something stung, and for the next week, I tried not to think about it. Tough luck.


The next day, I left with my choir for San Francisco. Glorious trip and so much fun, but said dream date kept bugging me about dress color so he could match. And also officially answering him. I was getting around to it, okay?!  :)


On the return flight home, I resolved to wander once more through various stores and then implore Granny on hands and knees for magical help. When Dad came to pick me and date up from the airport, I noticed Papa (Dad's dad) was also in the car. I figured they'd spent the day making various trips to Home Depot, and he just happened to still be tagging along. We dropped date off at his house, and went back home. As I walked in the door, my parents quickly ushered me into their bedroom, instructing me to stay there until they came to get me. Confused? Yeah, I was, too. From the hallway, I heard one of my younger brothers whine, "How come we don't get presents just because?!?!" What the heck was going on? After a couple minutes, Dad came and got me, but I still had to keep my eyes closed. They sat me down at the kitchen table, and I could hear my brothers stifling their excitement. 


On dad's cue, my eyes flew open to see Papa sitting in a chair, holding a big white bag out to me. My jaw dropped, and my breath caught. And then I squealed. I don't squeal. It was kinda a big deal (and that rhymed!). I reached a shaking hand out and took the bag. I could hardly believe it. There was my dress. MY dress. And then I gave Papa a huge hug for being the best Papa in the whole world. Apparently, my parents were talking to him about dress shopping with me and the desperate search to find something similar. He offered to pay half as a sort of graduation present for me. But when my mom showed him the dress, he wanted to pay for all of it. When I was little, before Grandma Joyce died, she bought me all sorts of beautiful dresses. I think that's part of what made Papa want to give it to me. So it was from him and Grandma. 

Super happy me and my cowboy/indian Papa (notice the ginormous turquoise bolo tie...)

The dress spent the next few weeks at Granny's house. It was strapless, so there were some sleeves needing to be added. Kaylani's almost perfectly matching fabric plus Granny's magic and Voi-La! You can't even tell they were added with the way she designed them. I went through several fittings since the dress didn't come pre-hemmed either, and every time, I got more and more excited. Granny also had a fluffy tool pettycoat that probably has been worn by nearly all my aunts, and my mother wore it with her wedding dress. It made the dress's skirt stand out perfectly.

Gold and ruby jewelery from Aunt Louisa that matched my ruby ring added to the elegance, and the thin gold tiara completed it.

April 24th (Happy Anniversary!) rolled around (not nearly fast enough!), and after an entire afternoon of preparation, I was ready. Best friend showed up (with a DOZEN RED ROSES!), matching perfectly.  

Perfect night. Perfect date. Perfect dress.

~ One year later ~

I told myself she'd be too tiny anyway. She could try on my dresses, they probably wouldn't fit (except for maybe the one her sister borrowed the year before), she'd be happy to have tried them on, and she'd go find something else. The next afternoon, my mom called. "Well...that's the one they chose..." she said hesitantly, unsure what my reaction would be. Well, I wasn't prepared for my reaction either. I felt like a 3-year-old having her brand-new, favorite toy ripped from her hands as she screams, "MIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!" I've never been attached to an article of clothing before...it was a bit weird. It's just that, well, my Papa gave it to me, like Grandma used to do, and it was THE dress!

And then I took a deep breath. I remembered how special it was. I remembered feeling like a princess. I remembered the look on my date's face when he saw me in it. I remembered the "oohs and ahhs" of other Prom-goers. I remembered dancing in it, and wishing the magic would last forever.

How could I possibly say no? How could I deny her that? 

In two weeks, she'll feel like a princess. Her date won't be able to keep his eyes off of her. Everyone will tell her how beautiful she is. The whole night will be special (though I beg to argue not as special as mine was...but admittedly, I am a bit biased). And she'll be happy. How could I rob her of that? I don't want to. She'll be gorgeous (she already is, but the dress will only enhance it). And I hope she has one of the most magical nights of her life in it. 

Love you, Crystal!
Can't wait to see what you find for Senior Prom next year ;)

And so THE dress story continues...