That conversation led us here, to what the sign proudly announces to be Dynamite Dolls. A quick look at the windows shows that the shop caters to '50s pinup designs, with two mannequins dressed to the nines in plaid pleated dresses that have a touch of class. I think it’s the fit on them that does it. The pinched in waist and lines that hug the curves.
My simple, black work heels click on the shiny floor inside; the shop is obviously very nice – cue the word ‘expensive’, with fashionable dresses on racks on both sides as we walk in. In front of us is a wraparound counter, with two fully decked-out sales associates behind it. One of them is wearing a pair of earrings that I die for. Gold bumblebees dangle just beneath her ear.
An extremely petite blonde and a tall, plus-sized redhead behind the counter turn as we walk in, the one with the earrings, obviously stopping mid-conversation.
“Welcome!” the two say in unison with perfect smiles.
The blonde rushes out to the sales floor, beaming. It seems that we’re the only customers in the store, which is fine by me. I’ve never heard of this place but the vibe is very much my style.
I don’t shop much at all in this part of the city. It’s a bit out of my price range, usually. Given that this dress is for a wedding, obviously, I need to get something nice. Something to make Charlie swoon. It’s a treat to myself, too. Because, why not?
“I’m Tessa. Are y'all looking for anything in particular?” the blonde asks. The rack of dresses made of black crepe catches my eye just as Tessa question us.
“Actually, we’re both going to a wedding,” Diane answers her and I stay mum, looking around. “So we need something classy…”
My fingers trail along the beautiful fabric; it’s luxurious. As soon as I get to the price tag and turn it over, I can’t help that my eyes widen, but at least the gasp is silent. Holy crap. Six hundred dollars for one dress? What the hell kind of place did Diane bring me to?
Blinking rapidly and trying not to show that I’m freaking out I know damn well I cannot afford this place, not in the least.
Of course, Diane has no idea that I’m stressed about money. Well, that is, I’m looking forward to being stressed about money.
Today at work, I Googled how much it costs to find a sperm donor and what the process is like. Then I nearly had a panic attack, because just the sperm can be hundreds of dollars. I remembered what my doctor said about IVF treatments… the cost of those can be thousands of dollars.
It took me a full three minutes of deep breathing to calm down from that one. I had no idea that going the donor route could be so expensive. I wasn’t prepared for that, but I guess I’m going to have to face it. And the longer I wait, the more and more likely it will be that IVF is the only route left.
I frown as I drift to the rack across from me. I touch a bright red dress, almost scandalous with its low-cut neckline and daring side slit hem. I wish.
“Ooooh,” Diane exclaims from just behind me. “It’s perfect!”
“Oh… I don’t know. It’s not right for me, I think,” I say absently.
Diane shoots me a look. “It’s for me.” She grabs the dress just beside the one in my hand, a different size, and passes it to Tessa, who beams at us.
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head at myself. “Right.” It sure as hell isn’t for me at that price. Dress or baby? That’s all I keep thinking. That and where is the sale rack.
I take in a deep breath and smooth out the sweater I’m wearing. The simple black cotton feels rough compared to the red number. Only positive vibes, I remind myself. Just happy thoughts… something in here needs to be on sale. Or… I bet this place offers credit cards.
“I’ll get you a fitting room,” I overhear Tessa tell Diane.
“Uh huh,” Diane says, her attention elsewhere. “Oh, look at this.”
Resisting my urge to laugh at Diane’s giddiness, I move to another rack. Biting my bottom lip, I look up covertly and search for a clearance section, but there isn’t one. Taking a deep breath, I try to loosen up a bit.
A flash of blue catches my eye, a hue just a bit lighter than the color of the ocean. I flip through the dresses until I find it. It’s part of a slinky little silk number, classic and elegant.
My fingers grace the fabric of the dress and I smile at the way it slips between my fingertips. I think this shade would be perfect. I’ll match Charlie, but it won’t look like I’m trying too hard to fit into the wedding party since it’s all dark blues according to Charlie. It’s perfect, I think.
“Do you want to try that on?” Tessa says, startling me.
“Yes please,” I say, forcing a small smile as my heart settles. I haven’t even looked at the price tag.
I really should take a peek before trying it on. Sometimes I fall in love a little too easily. But Tessa is already whisking it off to the fitting rooms. I follow behind her, to the back of the store. My brows raise when I see that the fitting rooms are the same size as the rest of the store, with good lighting and a gorgeous tufted ottoman in the
