The Dress

Near the southern tip of France, perched high on a hill is a sleepy little medieval town called Eze.  The winding cobblestone streets are so narrow that cars cannot pass through, and the views of the Mediterranean Sea are nothing short of spectacular. 

It was a cloudy, cool day in June 2002 when Mike and I had an entire day to spend wandering the streets of this magical town.  It wasn’t a busy tourist destination.  In fact, it was an oddly quiet place.  All we could hear was the echo of our footsteps and the occasional distant squeak of a door opening somewhere or muffled conversation as we passed by a quaint antique shop or bakery.  We spent hours meandering up and down stairs, browsing through stores, admiring gardens behind tall iron gates, peeking into windows, and looking down at the sparkling sea below.  

Eventually we stumbled upon a cute boutique near the top of the hill.  We pushed aside the heavy wooden door and entered a world of dresses, skirts, jewelry, bags, etc. We looked around for awhile, and then a lovely French woman spoke up from the back of the store.  All she said was, “I have the perfect dress for you.”  She pointed at me, then waved at us to follow her up a narrow flight of stairs. We didn’t protest. 

At the top of the staircase we arrived in this woman’s studio.  Half-finished dresses on headless wire mannequins stood haphazardly around the room.  Her sewing machine  proudly sat in one corner, a tall full length mirror graced another corner, and piles of fabric scraps filled the remaining spaces.  The woman went straight for a dress hanging up by the mirror.  Perhaps it was recently finished.  Perhaps she was waiting for just the right person to try it on.

It was a beautiful shade of green, a rich, mossy, earthy green.  Underneath the green fabric was a layer of wine colored material that just barely made its presence known at the scoop of the neckline.  “Try it on, “the woman urged. 

“Here?” I asked gesturing to the room we all three stood in.  There was obviously no dressing room. 

She nodded a yes, as if to say where else?

I undressed slowly, then she helped me slip the dress over my head.  It fit perfectly.  Like it was tailor made for my body.  The empire waist made me look as if I were a few inches taller.  The woman smiled broadly and stood back to admire her work.  She looked at Mike who stepped in and said, “It’s beautiful.”

“I give you time,” she said as she walked back down the stairs.  Mike and I looked at my reflection in the mirror.  The green nicely complemented my eyes.

“It really looks amazing,” he said.

“Thanks, but where would I wear this?  I love it, but do I really need it?”

For the next several minutes we went back and forth about whether to buy it.  We were near the end of our ten days in Europe and near the end of our spending money too.  The deciding factor was to ask how much the dress cost.  Secretly hoping the woman would give us a good deal, we waited for her to return.  Eventually we heard footsteps coming back up the stairs.

“How much?” I asked meekly.

I don’t remember the exact amount she quoted us in euros, but I do remember that it was the equivalent of $350 American dollars.  To a young couple just three years into their marriage, this was $350 too much.  We sadly declined to purchase the dress.  The woman looked truly disappointed.  So after I changed back into my clothes, and took one last look at the dress on the hanger, we walked out the door.  It was late afternoon and time to head to the bus that would take us to our cruise ship.  The entire walk we agonized about how we could go back and buy the dress.  We could put it on our credit card.  We could try to barter for a better price.  But in the end, we left empty handed.

Our trip to Europe that summer is one of our favorite memories together.  Even though we had both been to Europe several times prior to us dating or getting married, this was our first trip together.  And we really enjoyed ourselves. 

But we often talk about that day in Eze and the perfect dress.  We still say we should have purchased it.  What Mike says about art—when it moves you, you just have to have it, we felt about that dress.  It was just supposed to come home with me.  Perhaps it’s still hanging in the upstairs studio of a little dress shop overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, waiting for me to return one day.