mrs. dalloway goes to daffy's

I need, in the need-zone of Want, a new dress for Valentine's Day. Fuchsia? Maybe. Something in a red/pink hue with blue undertones. Givenchy used to have a "miroir" line of cosmetics, with the lipstick packaging looking like a small (vibrating) rocket but the important thing was this one shade - #701 - that was (not arguably) the greatest lipstick shade ever used upon these lips; it was a pink that was strong but not eclipsing all else with distinct blueness that accentuated my (now some scientists claim mutated-ly blue) eyes.

Last night on my way to the Benjamin Cho show, I walked by Daffy's and, having almost ten minutes to kill while awaiting my co-attendee, ducked in. There was potential. New things were in. New designer-y things. And shoes.

SHOES - was my first word. Honest.

Today during lunch 18 dresses found worth giving a go, four of which were actually of the necessary level of formality sought. None of the four worked well enough, and I know this by way of my heart remaining un-singing in my chest. However, one among the 18 had made me suck in a deep breath upon first sight. So splendid was its detailing and so in keeping with my own aesthetic that I was mumbling to myself in a magical daze of disbelief. It was the only one, and it was in my exact size. [Mental ritualistic thanks given to pretend Ancient Egyptian shopping deities.]

Up to the register with two dresses I sprang, fairly literally, such was my high. But lo! What presented itself before me, but a glistening pair of Italian shoes with such a unique yet subtle treatment of the leather that again it seemed as if life had been overtaken by a djinni, circa 1960 sitcom, mixed with maybe a Lichtenstein-cum-Target ad.

A razzle
and
a dazzle,
sirrah.

Then, when it seemed nothing could possibly improve, on display at the very front was The Dress.

"O! That dress. Do you know if there are more?"
[Miss Squinty Squinterthon gazes afar.] "I think there's two more, there, in that grouping."
"Then I may not be quite ready but will be back soon!" which loosely indicates, 'So don't go wandering off after I just had to stand here staring around, waiting, for a good five minutes while this fashion buyer lady kept exclaiming over and trying to finger my goods, and I'm not sure she was going to stop with stuff not physically on my person.'

Make haste!

[Beat.]

Haste was made but it became apparent the display dress was the only one of that making there.
Miss SS changed into Miss Furrah Furrowbrowton and asked, "Oh no, there really aren't any more?" Was she disappointed in the luck or in her inaccuracy? We'll never know!

Still, I answered at the time, "There really aren't. Is it possible, if that's the right size, to take it down?" She smiled heroically and began with painstaking attention to examine its display trappings, pulling away obstacles, and finding the tag while the lady in front of me stays by just to wait and settle the suspense that understandably would've haunted her throughout the day, if not the fashion season and shares, "It looks small. You're small. Bet it's fine."

"If it's a zero, though, I'm screwed."

"It's a 2."

Glorious day!

"Okay, before getting it off there, can we see how much it is, because that matters...no matter how much I wish it didn't." Throughout my life, I have had this 'ability' to see nothing of any interest and when I see something I DO like then it's 99% of the time the most expensive thing in the store. But, while this was pushing it a bit, it was The Perfect Dress - nearly the 701 shade, in a matte silk, and somewhere between a 1950s party and a tropical gypsy dress. Yes. That good. That made for me.

So it was taken down, and you'd really think at this point the matter was settled, but Fate had smiled on me enough (says Fate) for today. As Miss Heroic Smile was unzipping the back, closely fingering the components, coaxing lovingly if a bit devilishly, Miss FF returned and furrowedly pronounced, "There is a hole, here, by the zipper. If I pull," scientifically calculating, "then it will worsen and tear the fabric this way." Yes, she had determined the exact path of damage. She was glorious.

"Well, if there's a hole, I guess I don't want it, anyway - break my heart though it does."
"I know," sympathetic look lasting just long enough to convey sincerity before becoming uncomfortable, "I know."

And so the dress hunt will continue, but this day will go down as a great one in D's Shopping History. [Mentally chiseling shopping glyphs into metaphysical tomb wall located far off from civilization, painting it, and leaving during the night to minimize observer interest and preserve the record for the ages.]