Last weekend I took my almost 13-year-old shopping for a dress to wear to her school's father-daughter dinner dance. Yeah, I think it's kind of a weird function for a 7th grader, but hey, this is a private school, and they do love their traditions. Anyhow, my daughter Annie, who usually adores shopping and knows every corner of the mall by heart, was not pleased about our mission. "I hate 'froufy' dresses," she said, rolling her eyes. This I know. She went through a period from age four to age six where she loved ribbons and ruffles and all things pink, but when it faded, it really faded. Now she just wants to look cool. Cool meaning all of her clothes have to come from Hollister or Abercrombie, only worn in layers, and her jeans are so tight they look painted on. Annie wears a skirt as part of her school uniform, but other than the jumper we bought in the fall to wear to friends' bar and bar mitzvah's, she never wears dresses.
"Why can't I just wear my jumper?" she whined as we entered Bloomingdale's. "Because," I said, "This is a pretty formal thing, this 'Belles and Beaux,' and I hear some of the dads are wearing tuxes. And everyone is going to have on a really fancy dress, so that's what we need."
"Some girls are getting their dresses at Betsey Johnson for $200," she countered.
"Why would I buy you a dress for $200 that you're only going to wear once if you hate dresses?" I snapped. Silence. Copious eye rolling. Sighing. Glowering big time.
We rummaged through the sale racks in the Bloomingdale's girls department. "This is cute," I would say, and Annie would shake her head and stamp her Ugg-boot-clad foot impatiently. She deigned to try on one dress but would not let me see it on her. "Gross," she was all said.
We labored on to Nordstrom, Wet Seal (yes, surprisingly they have dresses), Forever 21, and even the petite department at Banana Republic where there was one double zero, very chic and simple, elegant black dress that Annie also refused. Plus her attitude was getting worse, all the dresses were beginning to look the same to me (shiny, heavily adorned with fake jewels and shirring), and we were both hungry. As we headed to Macy's, our last resort, I told my daughter this: "If we don't find something at Macy's I will go to the store during the week and buy something I like, and you will be forced to wear it, I swear on my life."
Low and behold, after dilly-dallying in the Macy's girls department where I could have bought a dress for 20 bucks, and Annie tried on three dresses that she either hated or didn't fit, we made it to the juniors department. OMG, as Annie would say--dress bonanza! Clearly this is where all the teens and pre-teens and wanna-be teens come to find that cheesy dress for the prom or the winter formal or the father-daughter dance. And unbelievably the first dress I pulled out, a lacy number with ribbon spaghetti straps that came in pink, white, yellow, and thank you, God, black, struck Annie's fancy. She tried it on, and other than the fact that I have to shorten the straps, it's perfect. She looked lovely and way too grown up, and she was actually smiling. Never mind the full retail price I had to pay for the dress and the little cardigan wrap we bought so she won't feel too bear, and the fancy new black flats (also not on sale). That smile must have been like the one I gave my mother when I tried on the black-and-white halter dress.
As they say--priceless.
