AIMEE: “I’m at Banana Republic and there are no wrap dresses! Repeat: no wrap dresses!” From my cell phone, I’m leaving a message for my sister/maid of honor/personal stylist Karen issuing the red alert as my lunch-hour shopping excursion takes a sudden ugly turn. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have that message waiting for her when her plane touches down in DC.
In a fit of practicality earlier this morning, I told myself to start dealing with those pressing problems that just aren’t going to go away, the first being: I have absolutely nothing to wear to my bridal tea party on Saturday. Things are getting very busy very fast and there’s only so much time left for emergency shopping. My sister’s already on her way home to gear up for my hectic extended weekend of bridal girly-girl activities, and in these next few days I’ll be like a celeb prepping for the Oscars. I’ve got my first gown fitting, the tea party, my DC bachelorette bash, and all the excitement of coordinating bridesmaids flying in from this city and that.
My sis, who knows I need my hand held when I shop, did some long-distance scouting for me, checking out her local Banana Republic in Boston and referring me to the cute little wrap numbers: “I know you love those even though you don’t actually have any – and there might be a reason for that, by the way – but give them a try.” But I couldn’t have anticipated this: They are totally gone. Damn the new spring inventory full of flouncy skirts in materials that won’t do for February!
I rummage through the sale rack and – a glimmer of hope! – I find a lone dress in the wrong size. The saleswoman makes a walkie-talkie transmission to the mother ship, or wherever they house the millions of clothes in every size and color you always hope they have. “WahWahWah WahWah” blares back through the walkie-talkie.
The saleswoman translates: “That’s the only one.”