In boxes and bags, three long dresses—one blue and two black—wait for me to try them on. Each has their elegance, each their flaws. The golden chain “straps” shine, but they’re cold. The blue color is wonderful, the fabric soft and comfortable, but the cut is slim and shows off every bump and roll. The other black is possible—the fit is nice and the overlay elegant. I’d need to find a jacket or shawl, and figure out how to lose the row of large silver sequins that look like small washers along the wiser straps.
So black sequin stays in the running. The other two will be returned.
One other option—a deviation of sorts. And yet, a choice I’m much more comfortable with. Well, in a way. As soon as I opened the box and undid the plastic, silver glitter covered everything as it dripped from the jacket and tank top—black and blue and shine from the silver. It fits perfectly, and it’s comfortable, a pretty paisley pattern with a stand up color, blue piping all around. But do I shine like a disco ball? Is it fun to shine? Is the matching jacket and tank too much like what a mother-of-the-bride might wear? The black skirt is non-descript, merely a background. The jacket covers any flaw. The shoes will need to be black background, too. (Still working on those.)
So I have two options for my brother’s wedding. A black gown—simple—or bling. How often do you get to wear a long dress and fancy jewelry? How many occasions call for glittery bling?
The wedding’s in three weeks. I need to decide. In the meantime I return two options of four, decide which kind of sister-of-the-bride I want to be. More dress up nights are in the offing.
I suspect I bring both options—let my sister (or my four-year-old niece!) help me decide.