|Mine is nicer - try Googling|
On unpacking yet another box - as more and more cupboards are appearing in our new home, I found - still in its famous boutique carrier bag - a marvellous 1980s confection of a dress, complete with layers and layers of net that bouffant out in glorious, sparkly black and gold tiers, all ending at the knee. It is strapless, tight in at the waist and I would have been the belle of the ball. Except that I have never worn it, not even once. My husband won a prestigious award that year, circa 1986, and we were invited to a grand event to receive it. Unlike my usual cautious shopping style, I ventured into one of those tiny, fancy boutiques in Johannesburg and paid a huge amount (albeit on sale) for my dress. I wanted my husband to be proud of me. Triumphantly, I returned home to the small town where we then lived, only to be told that my husband's boss had decided to send his best mechanic instead to receive the award. It seems his thinking was that this man would remain forever in his employ, whereas we would one day move on. We did, so maybe he had a point. But still. Devastated, I kept the dress and over the years I've hoped that either my daughter or my daughter-in-law would want to wear it. Not so far. My daughter doesn't mince words: "Oh mom, it's awful". The other girl more politely declined. What? Not even for a fancy dress party? So I am waiting for the inexorable wheel of fashion to turn again from the untidy, scrappy look of the last few years and for it to resurrect the fashions of the '80s. I'm hoping to hear, "Mom, can you lend me that gorgeous dress?" One of my colleagues at the library still has her wedding dress. Never worn: she decided at the very last minute not to marry the man who had made her pregnant. She takes the dress out once a year and sends it for dry-cleaning. She doesn't even have a daughter.