The Edgar Dress, Part Two
Well, shoot. I can't find a picture.
So I'll have to try to paint one in your mind.
Edgar Dress #2: Cave girl. Full-length. Tomato red. Fitted. Long slit.Tiny red beads all over it.
Good enough, yes?
Because it's not really the dress itself, it's the way I found it.
I was in Homewood, Alabama doing an extended visit to middle schools, soaking in Southern hospitality as I shared in the post from earlier this month. During the visit I learned that I'd been nominated for a second Edgar, and in the excitement of that I told my hosts the story of the $29 Little Pink Dress.
Being from the South, they loved the story.
They weren't convinced about the wearing of white shoes so early in the calendar year, but after polite murmurings and hoisted eyebrows, they let it slide.
Especially after I got to the part about winning the Edgar, and what Mary Higgins Clark had said.
Anyway, on my last day in Alabama, there was a big "luncheon" being held in my honor at a swanky restaurant, and the superintendent, principals, & librarians were all going to be in attendance.
Well, right next door to this swanky luncheoning local just so happened to be a "vintage clothing shoppe." "Let's go!" the ladies who drove me to the restaurant said. "Maybe you'll find your Edgar dress!"
Not likely, I knew, considering we only had about 10 minutes to shop. Which, after stepping inside, I was really regretting. The place was big! And packed! No secret closet, man, this place had rooms and rooms and rooms.
We found the "gowns" section and almost immediately I spotted the red cave-girl dress. Amid other showy gowns, it was understated, and (key to this 5'10+" author) longer than everything else around it.
I pulled it out and all the ladies went "Ooooo."
"It would go great with white shoes and gloves, don't you think?" I asked.
"Hmmmm," they all went, their eyebrows twitching.
And then I saw the price tag and squealed, "It's twenty-nine dollars!"
Having heard the Little Pink Dress story, the ladies knew: it was meant to be. So I tried it on speedy-quick, it fit, I paid, and we scurried across the street to lunch.
There is a third story, it involves black. And a sharp-tongued aunt. And, of course, $29.
Maybe next week!
Until then, here's wishing all of you a Happy New Year and an outstanding 2014.
See you in the comments!
So I'll have to try to paint one in your mind.
Edgar Dress #2: Cave girl. Full-length. Tomato red. Fitted. Long slit.Tiny red beads all over it.
Good enough, yes?
Because it's not really the dress itself, it's the way I found it.
I was in Homewood, Alabama doing an extended visit to middle schools, soaking in Southern hospitality as I shared in the post from earlier this month. During the visit I learned that I'd been nominated for a second Edgar, and in the excitement of that I told my hosts the story of the $29 Little Pink Dress.
Being from the South, they loved the story.
They weren't convinced about the wearing of white shoes so early in the calendar year, but after polite murmurings and hoisted eyebrows, they let it slide.
Especially after I got to the part about winning the Edgar, and what Mary Higgins Clark had said.
Anyway, on my last day in Alabama, there was a big "luncheon" being held in my honor at a swanky restaurant, and the superintendent, principals, & librarians were all going to be in attendance.
Well, right next door to this swanky luncheoning local just so happened to be a "vintage clothing shoppe." "Let's go!" the ladies who drove me to the restaurant said. "Maybe you'll find your Edgar dress!"
Not likely, I knew, considering we only had about 10 minutes to shop. Which, after stepping inside, I was really regretting. The place was big! And packed! No secret closet, man, this place had rooms and rooms and rooms.
We found the "gowns" section and almost immediately I spotted the red cave-girl dress. Amid other showy gowns, it was understated, and (key to this 5'10+" author) longer than everything else around it.
I pulled it out and all the ladies went "Ooooo."
"It would go great with white shoes and gloves, don't you think?" I asked.
"Hmmmm," they all went, their eyebrows twitching.
And then I saw the price tag and squealed, "It's twenty-nine dollars!"
Having heard the Little Pink Dress story, the ladies knew: it was meant to be. So I tried it on speedy-quick, it fit, I paid, and we scurried across the street to lunch.
There is a third story, it involves black. And a sharp-tongued aunt. And, of course, $29.
Maybe next week!
Until then, here's wishing all of you a Happy New Year and an outstanding 2014.
See you in the comments!
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