The Price of Love

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"The hemline is atrocious."

"Mom, are you kidding me-"

"Daphne, just look at that base work! Such gaudy jewels, as if we didn't know any better than to purchase the off brand lookalike of Sherry Hill." My mother scoffed. "Besides, it doesn't come anywhere close to the price range we're looking for, darling."

By price range approximation, she meant that the dress was under. Because god forbid I wear anything under ten grand.

I sighed for what seemed like the millionth time and went to put the dress back on the bar. Only she was able to criticize a limited edition Vera Wang gown that had to be specially shipped to the boutique. Shopping with my mother was kind of like bringing home a boyfriend to meet the parents- first impressions mattered. One little thing out of place caused a whole slew of snide comments, a few strange looks, and when the boy finally left (choking back tears probably) then came the whole breakdown on why he- or in this case, a dress- was most likely going to ruin my life. Even if I did wear it for one night and then never again. Tragic, really.

"Mom, come on. It's been five hours." I plopped down on the seat beside her. "Can't we just order something online? Like literally everyone else does?"

My mother looked stricken, as if I had just said we should pick something off the clearance rack in Salvation Army.

"Couture websites never display their best fabrics, Daphne." My mother pinned me with her signature glower, a look only achieved and refined over time by a primadonna of a woman, the look only the wealthy could give each other, and a look that she had polished to perfection. It was the same look she gave me when I suggested we grab strawberry smoothies from Starbucks last week. Needless to say, I didn't get my smoothie that day. I did, however, get an organic hand whipped herbal concoction imported from Venezuela, so I suppose the day wasn't such a waste.

"We have an entire section of the manor dedicated to dresses. Your wedding gown literally has it's own bedroom, Mom." I pulled a face, to which she responded by pinching my cheeks. "It's like we've run out of ideas for what to make the extra bedrooms into. What's next, a room dedicated to cutlery? A spoon room? Do we need a spoon room next-"

"You're lucky that I love you."

"How about a room for fake potted plants? Oh my God, we could even put up one of those lamps that look like the Sun and put cardboard cutouts of butterflies and watering cans and-"

"I would hit you right now, but then there would be claims of child abuse in the papers tomorrow." Mom laughed her airy fairy laugh.

The sales lady, a tiny woman by the name of Clarice, walked out from the backroom of the Burberry outlet that had been closed down for the day on orders of my mother, who insisted other customers would disturb her from the creative process of choosing a dress, whatever that meant. Clarice was holding yet another gown in a protective covering, looking as exhausted as I felt. My mother had put her through hell for the past five hours, it was no wonder the girl was looking close to quitting her job.

"We may have a winner here." Clarice said hopefully as she hung the dress on an empty rack and began unzipping the protective covering. "Limited edition Elie Saab gown, only two of these have been manufactured in the world. We had to ask for a special import from Milan only last week for both. It's said to have been the love gown between Mr. Saab and Mr. Oscar de la Renta himself." She tugged away the covering with a flourish and stepped away from the dress, watching us nervously. "What do you think?"

There was a few seconds of silence. I caught only a glimpse of something light blue and glittery before my mother grabbed me by the shoulders, squealing with delight.