THE DRESS

I

Adele was not a pretty girl. She knew that much was true. She was tall and thin, she did not have much style. She hated her hair because it was dry and limp, and slightly faded. Boys had never paid too much attention to her back in high school. She had what her mother called ‘a tired looking face’. Adele agreed that she often looked anxious and haggard, and that her countenance was a reflection of her soul.

Adele had lived a fairly ordinary life. One could say that in her town, she had lived a far too ordinary life. She had never gone to college. She was unmarried. She was still living in the house she had been born in. She had never had a boyfriend and did not enjoy working. She did not know anything and did not want to know anything. Yet she hated herself for it.

Adele was sad a lot. She did not have much confidence. She did not trust her taste in clothing or makeup. She did not know how to talk to boys. She liked to wear the same faded floral-patterned dresses day in and day out, some of which she had inherited from her dead nana (God rest her soul). She loathed her own lack of style, her own awkwardness. Sadly, she felt vaguely judged by the people she encountered when she left the house. She felt scared because of this. Even at home, in the kitchen pouring herself a cup of coffee, or in her bedroom staring at the ceiling late at night, she felt alone and scared. She felt alone and scared.

Adele liked pearl necklaces. Adele liked antique costume jewellery. She hardly ever wore her jewellry though, but would try it on, by her dressing table, staring at her cracked mirror. She would wear a necklace, put on a ring, and look at herself. Then she would take it off very quickly. She kept all her costume jewellery inside intricate boxes, some of which were on her dressing table, some of which were stored in her mouldy cupboard. They made her feel like a woman. Sometimes.

At other times she did not feel like a woman. She did not feel like anything or anyone. Walking down the street, shuffling in her old boots, wearing the same faded floral-patterned dress, she knew that she was a parody of an old woman. Maybe she was old. She felt timid inside. Beautiful, confident women with great style filled her with rage.

One fateful day she passed by a store. It was a warm afternoon in mid-July. Adele remembered it had been a Monday, because she had gone to church the day before. She had never really paid attention to this store before, because it carried expensive designer clothing only rich women bought.

There was a dress on the mannequin. She stared curiously at the dress. It was the most stunning dress she had seen in her entire life. It was an evening gown in a majestic shade of green. What kind of green was this? She did not know anything about the colours fashion designers or artists used. It was a luminous green though, like glittering seaweed. The mannequin was a faded, porcelain woman, as cold as a tomb. Suddenly, Adele wanted to remove the dress from the mannequin.

Adele would never have normally done this, but she entered the store without thinking. This rash move surprised her. I have got to try it on, she thought. The saleswomen inside the story could not hide their amusement. They stared at her with frozen expressions, but Adele knew what they were thinking. What are you doing here? Their faces said. You’re not glamorous or pretty enough to be here. Scat!

I know that I probably cannot afford that dress, Adele thought. I know that it is silly for me to even enter this store. I know that it is silly for my worn feet to soil your pretty, expensive carpets, but I have to try on that dress. Please, let me try it on and stop staring at me like that!

“How can I help you Madame?” the first saleslady asked. Her face was frosty and her eyes were filled with something that resembled disdain. Her hair was done up in a style that Adele had seen on television, and was probably considered fashionable. Her face and makeup were perfect. Adele said nothing. Her mouth hung open and her hair covered her face.

“I’m sorry Madame, but is there anything I can help you with?” the snooty saleslady asked. She said her words more slowly this time. The saleswomen behind her exchanged amused glances.

The store was filled with expensive, glamorous gowns, day dresses, jewellery, and perfume bottles. There was a makeup counter at the back. There were oil paintings on the wall and framed photographs. Adele could hear the sound of a waterfall but there was no music. She was the only customer in this store.

Adele walked past the saleslady without a word. She went to the storefront display and pointed to the mannequin. The saleslady walked slowly towards her, with an expression suggesting that she was about to lose her patience. Finally Adele spoke.
“I want to try on that dress,” Adele said. She pointed somewhere.

“Which dress Madame?” the saleslady asked.

“The....green one,” Adele finally said. Her voice sounded so soft and frayed, like parchment covered in dust.
“Oh yes, our Oscar de la Renta aquamarine evening dress,’ the saleslady said. ‘This dress is from the designer’s latest collection and is rather popular with our clients. Unfortunately, this dress is just a display piece and is not for sale. You can order it from us though, and the designer can ship it to you from New York City”. She sounded like she was giving a lecture.

“Oh...” Adele said. She shuffled her feet and looked at the carpet.

The saleslady raised one eyebrow. She did this strange, fluttery gesture with her hands.

“I want to try it on please,’ Adele said. She was aware that her voice sounded like a piano out of tune.

‘Certainly Madame,’ the saleslady said icily. She gestured to another pretty saleslady in a beautiful dress. The other saleslady smiled at Adele and pointed her towards the dressing rooms. Adele followed the other saleslady meekly.

She walked past her reflection in a mirror. She shuddered as she stared at her bent form, messy dry hair, faded dress, and worn boots. I look like the house I was born in, she thought. I’m falling apart.

Adele resisted the urge to turn back and run out of the store. She felt a stubbornness rise in her soul, like lava oozing from a volcano. She remembered that dress, that stunning dress. She knew she’d probably look silly wearing it, but she had to try it on. She had to see herself in that dress.

Adele felt strange. Everything was becoming blurred and very dream-like. She could almost hear music in her head, like the dramatic violin passage from her favourite soap opera. The saleslady led her to a room that was well-lit. Every corner was lighted. There were full-length mirrors that allowed her to see herself from the front and the sides. She tried her best to avoid looking at herself.

The friendly saleslady smiled at Adele and Adele smiled back. ‘Wait a moment Madame,’ the saleslady said. ‘We are getting the dress for you to try on.’

Adele was left alone in the room for two minutes, but it felt like two hours. Her timid little heart began to pound inside her chest. She studied the cream wallpaper. There was a single lily inside an elongated glass vase resting on a table, and one framed photograph on the wall. The photograph was of a radiant woman wearing late 19th century clothing. She was smiling and holding a small lapdog in her hands.

The door flung open suddenly and two salesladies entered the room. The friendly one smiled at Adele. The other saleslady was holding a long cloth bag that apparently held the dress. Adele smiled for the first time inside that store.

II

Adele stared at herself in the mirror. She did not recognize herself.

She was wearing the dress. The dress. To her surprise, the dress fit her perfectly. She was thin, and the dress (or evening gown) had slipped into her as easily as a hand sliding into a glove. The friendly saleslady had done up her hair with some pins. Her face was unadorned, her body unperfumed. Her faded floral-patterned dress lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, like discarded garbage. The perspiration on her flesh had dried off, and she was standing in front of the three full-length mirrors. The old Adele felt far away all of a sudden.

The lighting had softened her features somehow. Her hair was still dry, but was pinned back in a manner that seemed almost stylish. Adele stared at her face, truly stared at her face for the first time, and felt something like hope emerge in her heart.

Her eyes looked green, almost as green as the dress she was wearing. Her lips were full, sensuous, and craved rouge. Her slightly pockmarked cheeks also craved rouge. Somehow, all her blemishes and imperfections, the lack of symmetry in her facial features, and the haggardness that seemed to cripple her countenance was fading away.
She struck a pose in the dress.
The two salesladies laughed, but not in mockery. The friendly one clapped her hands and blurted out “You look stunning!”

Adele turned around and said “I do?”

The friendly saleslady nodded her head. “Would you like to order the dress?” she asked.

The unfriendly saleslady (who Adele had secretly named Miss Icy) stood at the doorway. Her arms were folded and she looked sceptical.

Reality hit Adele suddenly like a brick through a window. “How much is the dress?” Adele asked, her meekness slowly creeping back in.

Miss Icy cleared her throat theatrically, brushed her forehead with her left hand, and adjusted her posture. “This Oscar de la Renta gown is twelve thousand dollars Madame. Would you like me to place an order?” Her voice sounded triumphant.

Adele hung her head low. She looked at herself once again in the mirror, at the dress that fit her and revealed curves she never knew existed. The evening gown exposed one shoulder and adorned the other with folds of cloth that looked like the petals of some exquisite flower. The evening gown created a tight silhouette in her mid-section, and ended at her feet in a sudden burst like waves splashing on the rocks. She looked like an actress.

Adele thought long and hard for a moment. She considered for the first time, the logic of what she was doing. A twelve thousand dollar dress, she murmured to herself. She was twenty-nine years old and she had never lived a day of her life, truly lived a day of her life. Everything at this point had been dull, pointless, and somewhat painful. She wanted to break this curse once and for all. She wanted to be free to live.

She thought of the money she was keeping at the bank. She had about thirty thousand dollars left. Her granddaddy had left her a decent amount of money when he died. She’d hardly touched that money over the years, as she and her mom had been living off the modest income they had been receiving monthly from renters at their property downtown. Would she really pay twelve thousand dollars for a dress? The sheer insanity of it!

The three salesladies stared at Adele. Adele lifted her head and addressed Miss Icy:
“Can I write a cheque?” she asked.

Miss Icy paused and did another flutter with her hands. “Certainly Madame,” she said. “We can place the order for the evening gown in your size, and the dress should arrive at our store from New York City within the next few weeks...”

“But Meredith,” the friendly saleslady said, “Madame can take this dress home today. It’s the right size and we can order several more from the designer.”

Miss Icy (or Meredith) glared at the friendly saleslady. “That’s not our policy for Oscar de la Renta gowns!” she said.

“Meredith, I think Madame would like to take this dress home today.” She turned to Adele and extended her hand. “Hi, my name is Melanie. Does Madame want to wear this dress to an event perhaps? A party or dinner perhaps?”

“No I don’t.” Adele said. “I just want this dress. Please don’t call me Madame. My name is Adele.” She smiled at Melanie.

Melanie and the other sales assistant helped Adele out of the dress and took her to the makeup counter where they applied makeup on her face. They gave her some instructions and recommended products to her. By the end of the visit, Adele had written a cheque not just for an extravagantly expensive evening gown, but for some makeup, face creams, and a bottle of perfume.

Melanie wrapped the evening gown in fine paper and inserted it inside a monogrammed box. She placed the box inside a monogrammed shopping bag. The cosmetics were carefully packed in another shopping bag, and both were handed to Adele with much ceremony. Adele felt herself beaming.

Meredith refused to make eye contact with Adele as Melanie said her goodbyes and thank yous.

Adele took Melanie’s advice and went to a hair salon located a couple of blocks away. After a detailed discussion with the hairstylist, she sat in the salon chair. The hairstylist first bleached her hair, then coloured it platinum blonde. After washing and blow drying her hair, he began snipping away with his scissors. The hairstylist had her hair washed again, and then styled her hair.

Afterwards, the hairstylist twirled Adele’s salon chair around, and made her face the mirror. “What do you think Madame?” he asked.

“Everyone’s been calling me Madame, which makes me feel really old,” Adele said with a laugh. “Please call me Adele or Miss.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Well?”

“It’s perfect. I don’t look like myself anymore.”

III

Adele took a taxi home. She had gone to a department store and bought more clothes and some accessories. She emerged from the taxi cab wearing new stilettos, a dress, and scarf. All in all, she had spent about thirteen thousand dollars today and she felt liberated.

The taxi driver helped her carry her shopping bags to the front porch. She gave him a ten dollar tip. He grinned and said thank you. As he drove off, she slipped her key inside the keyhole and braced herself. Her mother was at home, and boy would she be surprised.

Adele walked into the living room, but the television was switched off, and the dining table had been cleared. She saw a note on the dining table. Her mom had written something about going off to play bingo with some friends. Her scrawl was almost illegible.

Adele stared at her house: the dingy wallpaper peeling in corners, the grime from the kitchen, the kitschy plastic flowers on the dining table, and the weird paintings and posters on the wall. How could she renovate her life, the way she had renovated herself today?

She brought her purchases laboriously up the stairs to her room. She was exhausted but emotionally exhilarated. She placed the shopping bags on her bed. She opened the bag containing the dress. She opened the box and peeled back the fine paper.

Ceremoniously, she placed the evening gown on her bed. Even in the dull light of her night lamp, the dress looked magnificent. It shimmered.

Adele resisted the urge to wear the dress again. Instead, she hung it on a hanger and enclosed it in a protective cloth bag. She hung it her mouldy closet next to her faded old dresses. She was going to throw away those old dresses tomorrow.

As she got ready for bed, she remembered a hotel located in Long Island she had heard about on some program on television. The hotel was located near a lighthouse and the seashore. She could not remember the name of this hotel, but she had been captivated by the beauty of the lighthouse, the terraces, the cosy rooms, and the cocktail lounge.

The hotel had been so dramatic, like something out of a murder mystery. Or a romance.
She wanted a Hitchcock moment all of a sudden. She fantasized about entering the cocktail lounge in this hotel, wearing the dress that had changed her life. A fur shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair was dolled up like Kim Novak. She was the heroine in Vertigo, and there was a man in an evening jacket waiting for her in the cocktail lounge. She could not make out his face, but his hair was swept back, and she knew that he was devastatingly handsome.

She had squandered a great deal of the money her granddaddy had slaved for. Was she going to squander some more?

Adele made up her mind to find out what this hotel’s name was. She was going to reserve a room there, and stay for a few days. She wanted to walk along the seashore, staring at the cliffs, the crashing waves, and the majestic lighthouse in the distance. She wanted to meet someone.

She giggled and threw the blankets over her head.