Sunday was perfect. Mr. P took me over to Burbank to indulge in real Chicago hotdogs, and Italian gelatto. From there we strolled around the antique shops where he bought vintage sheet music and I fell in love with a dress.
It was one of those moments where you spy an outside clothing sale rack and someone else clutching the dress you are dying to own. The woman lovingly inspected every inch of it, flaunting the fact that it was in her hands. I used my telepathy. OVER and Over repeating, don't buy me don't buy me-I'm not practical, you'll never wear me. I will stain easy, I will rip.
IT worked! She laid it back on the rack. I moved in slow. You never want the person to have regrets and then move back in and say "I'm actually gonna get that" simply because you want it now.
I waited patiently til she wandered off and then grabbed it. Every inch of it's TITANIC glory intact. Gems and details that must have taken ages to create.
The saleslady said she was asking $150.
For a museum quality piece, that was more than fair. But for an artist lacking recent productivity?
So Mr. P settled it with "You don't need that, you'll never really wear it" And when I spied a fabulous jewelry set he dryly stated " You can't wear those, their not even pierced."
And so we left empty handed. My brain scrambling to configure a plot to acquire the dress.
Last night Mr. P invited me over for dinner. He told me to clean off the table. A large white "PrettyWoman" style jewelry box was sandwiched in with the piles of mail. I of course said "What's this?"
WOW. Then he said do you have to go to the bathroom before we eat? You should go now if you do. Am I sucker or what? I head down the hall oblivious, and as I shut the door behind me...what is on the back hook??? THE DRESS!!!