Trying to find a gown at 40, during prom season

Can we all just take a deep cleansing breath? One that doesn't stink like a perfume counter?

I love living on an island. I have adapted to having limited options for last minute purchases, and I have learned that even "overnight shipping" takes a week. I know what things I can order online, and which things I need to see in person to decide on.

I have also had several disastrous lessons in online clothes shopping. So I just don't do it.

This decision has saved us a lot of time and money, and it really hasn't been a problem...... until now.

I need a dress.
By Saturday.

This is the vision I had......

I did some pinning on Pinterest, but was too nervous to buy without trying on first..... so last week I went to the mall, and found a corner of the department store that had a few sparse racks holding cheap, fugly dresses that alternated between Matron and Hooker. There was nothing in-between. The selection was totally picked over, sizes were limited, and there were as many sequins on the floor as there were on the clothes. And the ball I'm going to is "The Black and White Ball": there were exactly 2 black dresses - neither of which was my size - and no white dresses at all.

The bridal store in the mall had gone out of business, and Forever 21 had nothing. I stood outside of Sears for a few minutes trying to work up the courage to go and look to see if they had any prom gowns left, but I just.... I couldn't. I couldn't do it.

So I got in the car, bound and determined to find something to wear. I went over to one of the fancy outdoor shopping centers and found some gorgeous gowns at BCBG but I just couldn't pull the trigger and buy one. And because I am too old and classy (shut up) to tuck the tags in, wear the dress and then return it the day after the event (never mind that the employees are friends and readers - Hi guys!) I had to put them back on the rack...... but not before Joyce snapped a few photos:

I really, really liked this black one. 

I totally thought about things I could sell to pay for it.

This is INCREDIBLY comfortable and surprisingly flattering.

Definitely a dress that looks so much better ON 

then it does hanging on a hanger.

This dress was about 3 sizes too small, but I loved it.

Great Gatsby, yes?

We went to 3 or 4 other stores that night, but nothing grabbed me. I left empty-handed.
C'est la vie.

I'm not giving up yet - I still have a few tricks up my sleeve......but I also have my original plan:

Catching cute mice and putting them to work.

I had gray hair. Then I dyed it and people take that sort of thing very personally.

YOU GUYS.

As I have mentioned, I am beginning, the long, slow and sometimes painful process of getting my act together so that I am fit to be seen in public, in advance of the Fantasia Ball I am attending next weekend.

At first, I thought I might just shave my armpits and call it a day. But then, you know, I started thinking about all of the maintenance I do not participate in on a regular basis. Like buying makeup, or coloring my hair, or wearing a fancy dress. Even my elevens have gotten the best of me, I'm sorry to say.

The first order of business was the hair. I have been gray - really and truly, salt and pepper gray all over - for about 5 years. I dyed my hair red a few years ago for St. Patrick's Day, which was hilarious, but then I promptly had it cut about 1/2 an inch long all over my head.

Which in turn led me to dying it back to it's dark brown and letting the gray come in. It was a losing battle, trying to cover the gray. My hair grows fast and thick, and I had an almost constant strip of gray at my root line - which is SUUUUPER attractive and youthful.

I wasn't fooling anyone, is what I am trying to say. Also, denial.

"You can't be too much older than I am," said a woman who was definitely older than me, during a casual conversation one day a few months ago. She looked good, don't get me wrong. I just happened to know she was older than I was. Outwardly, I thought we looked around the same age. The only difference was, she was blonde. And I was not.

"Huh." I thought. "Why would she think I was older than I am?"

So for the last few years I have been gray, and fine with it. Really and truly fine. I got a few blonde highlights every once in a while to keep 'em guessing, but mostly I just let it be. Until I got a wild hair and decided that I wanted to go full-tilt Audrey Hepburn breakfasting at Tiffany's on this ball thing, started searching for a long e-cigarette online, and sent a text to my hairstylist Adiel:
"Let's go dark."



I could almost hear the squeal coming from 15 miles away. "Yes." she said (the "finally" was left unsaid, but certainly implied.) When I arrived at the salon, everyone in the place knew I was there to dye my hair. The receptionist, the other stylists, even the chick in the first chair knew what was about to go down. I have spent a lot of years having hairstylists ask if they could color my gray hair, so I thought it was just unique to the profession, to have such strong opinions about going gray. Boy, was I wrong.


So I sat back, and let them have at it. I did not give any instructions, I did not look at swatches or discuss warm vs. ash tones, or anything. I just sat down and said "Okay, go."

It took a while. Joyce showed up to document the big reveal, but I wasn't ready yet.

So we had a drink.

Just one, mind you. Heavy on the OJ.

Ella took a little nap while we waited.

Then I needed a haircut.

An hour later, my chair was rotated back towards the mirror. "What the hell have I done?" was the first thing I said. My stylist was more concerned about my bangs than the color.

And then, naturally, I posted a photo on Facebook. The reaction, it was swift.
The first thing I noticed is that everyone thinks I look better - and younger - without gray hair. Apparently, while I was walking around feeling empowered, I was also walking around looking 20 years older than necessary.

Huh.

And then, some of my friends and family who have gone gray started to get a little protective. Okay, defensive. Tomato tomahto.
My mom got involved.
People realized my mom was reading, and toned down their responses.
"I like your hair either way." a few said diplomatically.
But the vast majority were markedly relieved that I had finally ditched the gray. And that's okay. I'm glad it looks good, because I really do want to look nice for the event, and I definitely don't want to look 20 years older. So yay for hair color.

But it's only temporary.