Breadcrumb #677
MELISSA ST. PIERRE
Sometimes, it really is all about the dress.
Other times, it’s about the shoes, the jewelry, the hair, the nails.
When I was younger, I wore dresses all the time. That, in and of itself, isn’t strange. But what is? Wearing a knee(ish) length dress, with heels, in Michigan. In winter. In a snowstorm. Shivering through parking lots like I owned them. Why?
Just. Because. I. Could.
Because sometimes, it’s about the dress. And that is all.
I have since revised that idea.
Not that I don’t wear dresses, I do. And I love them just as much. But now, I love being comfortable, and seasonally appropriate, even more.
Once I graduated from high school, I donated most of my prom and formal dresses to a local organization called Hope Closet.
But I had one that I kept.
I knew I’d probably never use it, and I knew then that I couldn’t fit into it.
Saturday, April 27, 2002:
It is the date of my junior prom.
It was also the day after my birthday.
Weeks before, my mom, her friend Lydia, and I had gone shopping for the perfect dress. I had an idea of what I wanted. I “shopped” online and found it. The dress.
It was an Alfred Angelo. Pale pink. Bridal like skirted bottom. Princess waist. Sparkles on the skirt.
I wanted it perfect.
The two closest peas in my (then) pod had deserted me for dates I’m sure they have forgotten long ago. And for the first time since we had started navigating our way through high school, we were not getting ready for a dance together.
I was shy back then and asking anyone to go with me took the kind of courage I wouldn’t have for years to come. But, I did it anyway.
“ The two closest peas in my (then) pod had deserted me for dates I’m sure they have forgotten long ago.”
I asked a boy I liked that was a year older than me. Clearly, he said no. This ended up not being a catastrophe.
I asked a boy I had once dated. I still liked him so much, but I hadn’t given him enough lead time.
So, I was going to go: alone.
This is why the dress needed to be perfect.
It wasn’t pink.
It is blue. It’s jewel blue satin and the bodice has small jewels that adorn its accents.
And my mom picked it out.
I had my hair done in a fancy updo style. Reflecting back, it should have had its own flight plan, zip code, something. It was big. But then, it was just right.
My mom tied the corset back and once in the dress, I was ready.
We went outside and even though it was freezing, we took photo after photo. It was brilliant!
I hugged my parents and got behind the wheel of my truck. I blew out a breath and cranked “Wish You Were Here” as loud as I could. That, and all of my favorite songs.
On the drive there, I felt my stomach clench. I was nervous to walk in alone. What if I was early? What if everyone stared at me? What if….
But thirty minutes later, I was there.
Blowing out another deep breath, I stuck my heeled feet out and stood, smoothing my perfect dress.
One foot in front of the other, just like any other walk. Right?
As I approached the door, I saw my friend Sarah and her boyfriend. Thank goodness, I said silently. I could walk in behind them and no one would notice that I was alone.
It worked. Kind of.
We veered off in different directions once through the main doors.
There I was. In my jewel blue dress, fancy hair, pretty nails. Alone.
And yeah, some people stared.
But it was okay.
It was okay.
It is okay…. I repeated.
The nerves returned and I felt like I had just burped in choir class. I didn’t even take choir.
One heeled shoe in front of the other. Catching eyes with friends, I walked the length of the room.
“A lady looks down to no one”, borrowed from my favorite princess movie.
The lights felt hot as they hit me, full blast. Was I sweating? Dear God, don’t let me be sweating right now.
Who was I waking toward? Dear God, I hope that’s Jill. The light moved and shot a laser straight into my left eye. Dear God, do not let me walk to one of “their” tables. Lead me, please, to my friends and not the “popular crowd.”
I’d be lying to say it wasn’t a little awkward. But I’d also be lying if I didn’t say it was one of my proudest moments.
I made it to the safety of my (still) best friend and her date. She embraced me and immediately, the nerves subsided and I allowed myself to take in the room, my friends, the party.
I’d walked the room.
Alone.
That one action, if traced back, planted the seed for the kind of confidence that would grow in me. It would become the ability to speak on front of a crowded room, or defend myself when no one else would, stand up for my daughter, present at conferences, and dance when everyone else isn’t.
As for my prom?
I had a ball!
And even as I drove myself home as friends went to parties and events, I was on top of the world.
I moved, nine years later, into a home of my own. My house.
Alone.
And that dress moved with me.
It hangs in a closet, not worn in eighteen years.
But, sometimes it’s about the dress.
Sometimes, it’s about a whole lot more.