After sitting with my girlfriends over coffee and talking dramatically about ‘oh god no money’ and ‘oh man so bad at budgeting,’ I happened to walk past my favourite little boutique. And you know that feeling when your knees go weak and your heart starts beating like crazy. That’s what happened because – new shoes, new dresses, new beautiful fabulous sexy impossible to resist summer clothing.
I totally forgot about my no money situation, walked in, was offered champagne because they know me too bloody well, and of course I bought a couple, just a couple, of new and oh so perfect summer frocks.
Then I came home and had an instant panic attack. Fuck fuck fuck, what was I thinking.
For a while I’ve been wanting to take some of my many other impulse buys, meaning worn once and never again, to the vintage store down the road. I called and asked them if they would take a ‘consignment’, they said sure, and so I went though my closet.
I took out a couple of pairs of boots and a whole lot of dresses, folded them and put them neatly in a brown paper bag.
On top of the bag – my wedding dress, beautifully wrapped in soft tissue paper.
It was time for it to go too.
It’s magnificent. It was old when I bought it, hand stitched antique French lace, a total dream dress. I’ve thought over the years of doing something with it – make it into a tunic, maybe shorten it or restyle it, but the lace is just too fragile.
So, I added it to the pile of things to drop off.
I arrived at the store and handed everything over, feeling a little sad to part with it, but hey, $$$, and also, someone may as well wear the stuff.
When I drove home I reached to the back of my car to get a sweater. I felt something beautiful, something soft, something fragile, something delicate, something very special.
Not my sweater.
It was my dress.
The only item that had fallen out the bag was my wedding dress.
I immediately sent a message to the store saying ‘oh shit, sorry, I still have the dress, I’ll drop it off tomorrow.’
But – I’m not going to drop it off.
I’m going to keep it.
In the same way I’ve kept it for the last 25 years.
It’s unlikely my sons will choose to wear it but hey let me not be presumptuous.
Either way, they should definitely have it. Even if just to admire. And to hand down, generation to generation.
It’s exquisite, a work of art, thank goodness it fell out the bag, what was I thinking so impulsively to sell it, oh I know because it’s how I always get into trouble, I am apparently impulsive.
I’m very glad I’ve still got it.
It was the right decision.
Maybe I’ll wear it today. Just for fun.
Then I’ll sort out my bank balance.