We needed to buy a dress for Kelly to wear for sixth grade commencement, her third such ceremony, having commenced from preschool and then from kindergarten years before. We went to the mall, where she tried on dress after dress at shop after shop. She kept picking out inexpensive casual dresses made out of T-shirt material that hung limply and awkwardly on her prepubescent body. I could not tell if she was trying to save me money or if this was the “in” style, but I would not buy any of them. She began to get impatient and say “Let’s just get this one” at almost any dress.
Finally we went to Nordstrom’s. We were looking through a rack of pretty dresses, and I unerringly picked out the most expensive one. It was about 80% more than I had planned to spend, but it was beautiful and would look wonderful on Kelly with its low cut waist and flouncy cap sleeves. She made a face at it and said it was awful. What was awful about it? It had a ruffle and a bow. She said she would not even try it on! I asked her to try it on as a favor to me, and if she would, then we could go buy whichever of the previous dresses she wanted.
She sullenly followed me into a dressing room, and reluctantly put the dress on over her head. The soft, silky white dress floated down over Kelly, the pink sash fell right at her hips and lengthened her torso, the cap sleeves added a feminine touch, and in an instant Kelly was transformed from a child into a young lady. She stared at the mirror, transfixed. I could almost read her thoughts as an array of emotions passed over her face: confusion, amazement, a dawning belief in her own prettiness, and an inner struggle over whether she would stay resistant or admit that mother was right. Finally, maturity won, and she grinned and twirled and said, “Let’s get this one.”
That was a great dress, a transformative dress. I saved it for six years until Emily could wear it at her fifth grade commencement, and she looked beautiful in it, too.
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