The other day while out shopping at the local thrift store, I was rummaging through the evening gowns in case there was something that I could wear for Halloween. That's when I saw it -- a purple sequin floor length gown that it would outshine an Elvis jumpsuit.
"Oh, that's pretty," I thought. I checked the price tag. $7? It must be a mistake. But that's what the tag said. The price marked is the price, isn't it?
"What would I do with a purple sequin evening gown?" I thought. I could not very well wear it on Saturday to Wal-Mart, and it would cause too much gossip at the Our Lady of Callused Knees & Holy Order Catholic Church. They might think I had been out all night partying. So, I passed it by and didn't try it on.
Why is it that the thing we didn't buy, is the thing that haunts us later? I had visions of me in the sequin gown going to the Satin Love Orchestra Valentine's Day Ball. I imagined going on a dinner cruise on the Love Boat, or to a fund-raising political dinner dance, or to a New Year's Eve party at the Hilton. It would also be perfect if I ever made it to Vegas.
Unfortunately, I never go to anything that formal, and if I ever was invited to go, through some sort of clerical error probably, I most likely wouldn't be able to go anyway due to work or something.
The purple sequin evening gown taunted my dreams. I fantasized about the gown and how great I would look in it, like Faith Hill or Princess Di. I was becoming obsessed.
I mentioned the fancy duds to my honey. "Why didn't you get it?" he asked.
"Well, I don't need it. I'm not going anywhere to wear it."
"You could get it and you would have it if you ever did need it."
Somehow his logic made sense. I should have bought it, especially for the price. Maybe I could go back and get it. But that never works with thrift shops. If you see something you like, better buy it right then as it will not be there when you go back. Or at least hide it in and amongst the ugly stuff no one even looks at, so you can go back for it later. Re-finding something you hid is like hitting a mini thrift store lottery. Woo hoo! Yes! It's still here!
I could run by there before work and check. But it's been more than a few days. It would certainly be gone. Maybe I could call and ask them to hold it for me? No, no, a thrift store will not do that. Besides, what if I get there, try it on, and it doesn't fit?
If I don't get it, it doesn't really matter. I have nowhere to wear it anyhow.
Wait a minute! What am I thinking? This is Oregon. I once went to The Nutcracker ballet and saw people wearing their fanciest tye-dye. Damned if I can't wear a purple sequin evening gown to sushi or Chili's. Look out skinny-college-student-waitress-chick; I'm sorry, is my shiny, purple sequins reflecting into your eye? Just put on your shades and bring me my baby back ribs. Too bad my man doesn't have a tux. Blue with sequins...um, sorry I digress.
Well, I went by the store before work. I stood staring at the empty space where the gown was hanging before. I looked through all the other dresses, thinking maybe someone had moved it from my hiding place. It was gone, gone, gone, just as I figured it would be. As many Purple Hat lady's in this town, one of them is probably wearing it to the next Sunday Champagne Brunch at the VR Inn.
Would whoever bought my purple sequin evening gown, please return it? I have a lot of places that I'm dreaming of going, and you probably didn't need it anyway. You probably just bought it so you would have it in case you ever needed it.
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