Buying Dress Is No Easy Task for a Member of the Wedding

The Boston Herald

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. - Here we are in sunny Scottsdale, not quite as sunny as it usually is and definitely not as warm, El Nino wreaking havoc with weather here, too. But it is lovely nonetheless, a little sun, intermittent blue sky, flowers blooming, birds singing, mountains of red rock everywhere you look.

And in the midst of all this natural beauty - behold the astonishing diversity of Scottsdale's Sonoran Desert by taking a Jeep tour; experience true Western traditions like a cookout under starry skies; hike a trail; bike a mountain; explore the great outdoors - what is it we decide to do?

Go shopping.

Not that we enjoy shopping. Not on your life. Shopping is something we do only when we have to, when we are coerced, when the clock is ticking and time's a-wasting and a wedding is looming and we have nothing to wear.

Who would believe that finding an outfit for a daughter's wedding would be so difficult? Who could imagine that given a choice, we would opt to seek the Holy Grail?

We envy the men in our lives who do not have to shop, who will look perfect with minimum effort, who will pick up their tuxedos the day before the wedding, put them on, and pose for pictures.

Not so the mother of the bride.

You must go shopping in Scottsdale, people in the know urged us. You will definitely find something there. There are a trillion stores, a million malls. It is a shopping mecca. They gave us lists. Addresses. Alternative lists. Alternative addresses.

We did as we were told. We went everywhere. We searched the department stores. Dillard's. Macy's. Saks. Neiman Marcus. We saw racks and racks of dresses and suits, suits and dresses, long and short, sleeveless, strapless and backless, plain and fancy.

But we found nothing to wear.

Black is too grim and white too stark and ivory is beige and beige is boring and red is out of the question. And pastels are too light and navy is too dark and olive and lime make us look green and what is it we really want anyway? Short or long, a dress or a suit, lace or no lace, sequins or no sequins?

We went to specialty stores. Fewer racks. Fewer choices. Pleasant saleswomen who suggested and encouraged and kept telling us to try this and put on that.

Such lovely clothes, knits, silks, satins, chiffons. Lovely on the hanger, lovely on lanky, skinny, 20-year-olds off to a soiree.

But not so lovely on us.

We stood in front of a three-way mirror and felt 12 again. We were right back at Conrad and Chandler trying on confirmation dresses that were too short, too tight, too frilly, too babyish, dresses we didn't want to wear, not ever, never mind wear in a church while walking down an aisle.

We were right back in that god-awful in-between stage when we were too big for children's size 14 and too small for junior size 5 and nothing looked quite right and nothing would for the next few years.

Too old for prom gowns, not quite old enough for pink brocade. That's where we find ourselves today. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

So what did we do next?

We ate. We remembered how an ice cream at Colestones always made us forget about the mirrors at Conrad and Chandler.

Vanilla with fudge sauce and a brownie.

This time we opted for a margarita on the rocks without salt, plus nachos with a side of guacamole.

Nearly a week in Arizona and what did we do? We shopped.

And what did we buy? Nothing. And what have we learned?

That we should have taken the Jeep tour.