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I have found it: the perfect dress for the Correspondents Dinner. Tuesday’s strike-out was followed by serious success over the weekend; add to that the 80’ heat wave we had here yesterday and the rocket ships I visited at the Smithsonian today, I couldn’t have celebrated the week’s conclusion any better.
The dress is here:
And because the back just doesn’t come across very well on a hanger, I give you my experiment in self-photography, take 51,552:
I seriously could subtitle this little gem “Ballgown, mirror, digital camera: just watch, she’ll entertain herself for hours.” Really, that’s about how it went down, and all of about none of them really turned out. Sadly, this is the best one, but at least it gives you a sense of the cross-straps in the back. Oh, and pardon the whole chunk of my head in the bottom… photography is definitely not my calling, but hey, it sure is fun.
Those of you with a keen eye will notice that this is the very dress suggested last week by the fashion-savvy Penelope over at The Rivers of Addiction Flow (A million thanks, P!). The minute she sent the link (here) I was in love, and was actually planning to order it online if I couldn’t find it (or didn’t find anything better) by next week.
Oh happy fortune, I found it squished between some less attractive options at the Saks outlet in Leesburg, where I spent a seriously successful half-day browsing. It was a total sign; it was the only dress they had in my size that was even try-on worthy. The color, “cobalt blue,” isn’t available on the site, which makes me think it’s probably last season, but the sales girls there assured me that it’s a classic cut, and the others at the communal three-way mirror all agreed that the color really worked on me. And for $127? I could not, COULD NOT let this dress join the sad pile of rejects at the back of the fitting rooms.
The search goes on for shoes and a clutch. I want a new formal clutch; the one I have actually is from prom, and I just want a new feel. If I end up getting something metallic, I’d be able to wear my shoes from the biochemistry wedding, which would be marvelous since they’ve been worn all of about three times, though they are really cute. The biochemistry wedding was my little sister’s nuptials two summers ago: she and her now-husband got engaged in college, where they met majoring in, get ready for this, biochemistry, biophysics, AND molecular biology. Blech. A mouthful, but so smart. I’m proud. She’s a biochemist now; he’s a PhD student. I fully intend to corrupt their germ-phobic and totally geeky future children. I’ll be the coolest aunt EVER, and I get all excited every time I pass the children’s section, or see little tiny shoes, or peer into a toy store. Sure, I want my own … but first I’d like to spoil hers.
I’d also like to see her do it first. I realized at her wedding, once I got over the initial “holy hell, my little sister’s getting married and I’m not even dating anyone” shock and panic, that it wasn’t all that bad to cede the right of first preference. There’s something almost calming in knowing that you don’t have to be first, don’t have to plow the course; no, you get to sit back, take notes, see how it’s done and plan ahead to avoid the pitfalls. You pre-design your version to be an improvement.
I’m the oldest, and have never had this perspective before. Honestly, I’d like to hang onto it for a little bit. Go on ahead with those babies, sweetheart. I’ll be watching, from a safe distance, drinking champagne out of the bottle in my blue dress and livin’ it up till I’m good and ready. I will be, one day. But not today.
