For far too many special occasions in my life, I have sewn my own clothes (or often more accurately described as "costumes"), and I don't think there was a single time I wasn't panic-sewing right up to the very last minute. My oldest daughter showed up to foster daughter's wedding with a dress that needed just a few more alterations, and wow, did I have flashbacks that day.
So now we have plans to attend the next door neighbors' Vegas wedding, and I honestly expected to be whipping together something loose and flowy that would cover my arms fully and be of breathable fabric. I pictured a cream-colored peasant top of sorts, over loose pants. And every time I thought about it, I stopped myself, and said no, only the bride wears white, and made myself imagine a lavender top instead.
Today I found myself at Target, buying underbed storage bins for the craft room, and I walked out slowly past the clothing department. I picked around the clearance racks, and right at the end of the last one, I found an enormous lavender gauze poets blouse. There it was, the top I needed, completely finished, and on clearance for fourteen dollars. I grabbed it, and went back to the newer clothes, and looked for some light colored pants in my size.
Am I the only adult who needs permission from her grown kids to select clothes, especially when I'm out by myself? I texted my older daughter, first asking whether A would be cool if my wedding clothes came from Target (daughter said of course, she's cool like that--they are getting married at a wedding chapel on Fremont Street after all), and secondly, which pants to choose? There were some camel colored jeans I liked, and there were a couple large wide-legged linen pants that were pretty. Her answer was "linen 10000%." I showed her the two color choices, and between us, the answer became both.
So other than these clothes being huuuge, and needing a few tucks and maybe a shorter hem, I am completely ready to face the Vegas sun next month. Now, even though the hotel we want is all of five blocks to the chapel, daughter suggests we should go ahead and take a taxi. I'm not used to that sort of heat anymore. It may be Vegas, but that is one gamble she doesn't want us to make.
Also, the top rang up for only eight dollars. I'm already a winner.
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