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The Story Behind the Dress [Wow! It’s Wednesday!]

My friend Kalimba showed up to the co-ed wedding shower that she, another friend, and I were throwing for our friend, Delia in a fabulous dress. “I love your dress,” I told her before I had even hugged her hello.

“Thanks,” she said. “I wore it to your wedding.” And a memory of a younger me dressed in a fabulous rented Badgley Mischka wedding gown but complimenting her on her dress came back to me.

Back then I had been a little more rock and roll and had shopped at Urban Outfitters. Now I recognized her dress as having coming from my favorite store as of two years ago, Anthropologie. “Is that an Anthropologie dress?” I asked her.

And she confirmed that it was. As we prepared for the coming onslaught of party guests, I followed the dress around lustfully, and for the first time in many months, I wished I was skinnier than I currently was. In fact I said to her, “If you weren’t so skinny, I’d rip that dress right off your body.”

Later on, I’d say something else that would illicit from her this observation. “You always choose the most extreme language.”

This is true, and I backed up her observation with a story about how I’d found myself walking home from Starbucks the previous Friday without the benefit of my iPhone, and how in the quiet the title of my third book, which I’m rough drafting now, had come to me: THE MOST AMAZING LOVE THE UNIVERSE HAS EVER KNOWN.

She laughed, but acquiesced that she loved the title.

But back to the dress: “It’s so funny that you like it so much,” she said. “You know this is only the second time I’ve ever worn it because it’s a size eight, and I have to cinch it with this black sash…” She trailed off, relizing at the same time I did. “I should probably just give it to you.”

She and her boyfriend were headed to a Dodgers game after the party, so she took of the dress and left it behind for me. But before she walked out the door in yet another glamorous outfit, she warned me several times that the dress was a loaner and that she reserved the right to take it back at any time. I know she is serious about this, b/c she had shown up at my door four years after loaning me a vintage Hawaiian dress and had taken it back to wear to a party.

When I arrived home and checked the dress tag, I discovered that it wasn’t a size 8, which would have been a tight fit, but a size 10, which would be just perfect.

“I need a new author photo,” I said to my husband after relaying the story of how I got the dress. “We should go out and take some pictures tomorrow in this dress.”

And that’s the story behind the dress.