Quilts, Tacos & Tattoos

Dip N' Dance

                  

I always got a little nervous at parties and dances. Most of it came from my fashion sense, or rather, a lack of it. Before I arrived at any event, I thought the outfit that I had put together, usually with the help of my mother and grandmother, was so amazing. I dreamed that I would steal the show with my gorgeous outfit, but it never happened that way. I would start out full of confidence and then begin to be aware of what the other girls were wearing, quickly realizing that I had not chosen the right outfit. Feeling as small as a mouse, but also feeling like I looked as big as a bear, I usually made a beeline for the bathroom to decide what I could take off or rearrange to make the outfit better, not that it really mattered at that point. Everyone had already seen me in the original outfit, so trying to change or alter it did not make it any better.

At last year's Christmas dance, I was sixteen and should have had enough fashion sense to know that my outfit was wrong. I didn't know it was going to be such a disaster that I would need to transfer schools - as if there were another high school in Marble Falls, Texas.

My mother, the crafty quilter, had a great idea for the holidays. She created a new pattern for how make a sweatshirt into a dress. I can still hear her telling her customers, "It is really easy. Just take any old sweatshirt and turn up the edge, and then add some fabric along the bottom, and you have a dress that any girl would love to wear for any occasion. Aren't they just precious?" As if a sweatshirt could ever be made into a fancy dress.

I got the crazy idea to wear the Christmas dress that had been on display in the front window. It was made out of a red sweatshirt with four tiers of Christmas plaid fabric added to the bottom to make a ruffled skirt. Mom wanted to make it more special so she painted a Christmas tree on the front of the sweatshirt, used her Be-dazzler to add some sparkle, then painted ornaments on little wood cutouts to sew to the shirt. A coordinating necklace finished off the outfit. Not satisfied, she painted some matching wood trees and, using the drill; she put holes in them so they could be laced onto the front of my white Keds.

I was mesmerized by my mother's unending talent and ability to coordinate this outfit, and decided that I should wear the entire combination to the Christmas School Dance. I wanted to make it a little more personal and so I added red and white striped knee-high socks and tied coordinating fabric to the ends of my braided pigtails.

When I left my house, my head was full of the comments I would hear from all the other girls at the dance. Cricket, you are so stylish. Your outfit looks great! I can't believe how well it matches. Could you make me one? As I drove to the dance, I practiced my responses. Oh, Thank you. I know. Isn't it so cute? I made it myself. I would love to make an outfit for you. It really is one-of-a-kind.

When I walked in the door, all the chatter in my head screeched to a halt. I could only hear one word in my head as I watched each head in slow motion stop and turn in my direction with eyes wide open and chins dropped, "Alert." Only then did I realize that maybe my outfit was not what I thought it was after all. Disaster is the word that best captures the event and mortified is the word that best captures the anguish I felt when I walked into the gym and realized the colossal mistake I had made.

I quickly scanned the other girls to see where I went wrong. They had on dresses: check. They all had ruffles on the bottom: double check.

Then it clicked.

Their dresses only had one sleeve and were a bit more punk than my choice. They had on tennis shoes too, but theirs were converse high tops, not white Keds with wooden Christmas trees attached to the front. They had ribbons in their hair, but their hair was more teased and their ribbons were not neat or Christmas-colored. Theirs were hot pink and glowed in the dark.