With only two weeks left until my son Andrew’s wedding, I found myself standing in front of my closet, surrounded by a sea of practical slacks and worn blouses, none of which came close to what I needed. Not for a day like that. Not for a moment that would be frozen in photographs forever. So I told myself it was time—time to treat myself. To find something beautiful, something that felt like me.
I wandered through the mall, trying store after store. Nordstrom felt like it was trying too hard, like every dress was ready to walk the red carpet. Macy’s, on the other hand, was caught between teenage trend and grandmother-of-the-bride. Three boutiques later, my patience was wearing thin, and I was ready to settle for something from the back of my closet and call it fate.
