My mother goes to the Salvation Army and comes home with two of the biggest, brightest cupcake wedding gowns I've ever seen. They're all lace and tulle, sequins and sparkles, and everything else any bride in the history of the world could possibly want in a gown. But all wrapped up in a single dress (or two matching dresses of varying degrees of whiteness).
She buys them for $15 each. "The girl definitely rang me up wrong, I know they weren't on sale," my mother confides. "Is it bad karma to not point out the error?" I tell her I doubt anyone would argue that these puffballs are worth all that much more.
What she wants is the netting from the skirt really, to make a decorative tablecloth without buying all the yardage and piecing it together. The idea is quite good and I wish I had thought of it.
We try on the dresses one night before the cutting begins. Two grown women dancing around in cupcake gowns (and army boots). My dad reluctantly takes pictures with a sigh. He's used to this behavior. Earlier in the week my mom and I cooked dinner dressed as 50s housewives complete with martinis and cigarettes. We entertain ourselves quite nicely.
"The dresses are so beautiful, it's a shame to cut them up," my mother later tells me with the greatest sincerity. "I think I'll only cut up the bright white one, I just can't see myself wearing it."
"Cause you'll get so much use from the off-white instead?" I ask her.
My mother laughs. She honestly hadn't considered this. "I suppose I won't really wear either of them. But isn't that a shame?"
When I was young my grandma would constantly remind my mom to "remember who is the adult and who are the children." My mother is my best friend. I hope she never grows up.
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