TRY IT ON FOR SIZE

copyright: Lesley Tara, 2009


The senior prom was only two weeks’ away, and I needed a ball gown. I didn’t have anything of that sort, as I had never expected to be invited. I wasn’t a senior, but was in the year below – in fact, at the time, I was not quite seventeen. However, one of the graduating class, a nice enough but rather nerdy boy called Brad, had asked me to go with him. It was a surprise; I didn’t know him very well at all. Perhaps he couldn’t find anyone in his own year – or it might have been because I was one of the best-looking girls in the year below, and not mean or catty to the less popular guys like some of the others were. I accepted, whilst making it clear that things might go as far as some nice kissing, but definitely no further. So now I needed an evening dress, something cool and sexy to put me on a par with the senior girls, but not slutty. I had a couple of hundred dollars put by which I decided to use, and my Mom – with a nostalgic look in her eyes – gave me two hundred more ‘to get something special’.

I got some good advice from my cousin, Sammy-Jayne, a very attractive young woman of 22 with whom I had been close friends all my life, despite the five years’ age gap; in fact, I have always had a bit of a crush on her. She said I should avoid the chain stores and the obvious ‘teen’ shops, and go for something more distinctive and with more class. She recommended a small independent dressmaker’s called ‘Clarissa’, which she said smart professional women in their 20s and 30s went to, but which had very affordable prices. It was in a small parade of shops in a quiet nearby neighbourhood, so I decided to begin my search there.

I had some free study time the next day, and slipped out of school to start my search. It was about noon when I arrived at the shop, and went inside. It was larger than it had seemed from the small street frontage, stretching back some way. It was pleasantly lit and had pale beech flooring and wall panelling. The shop seemed quiet, with just two women browsing and a smartly-dressed woman seated behind an antique-style desk. She looked to be in her early 30s, with thick curly dark hair that tumbled to her shoulders and dark brown eyes. I could tell she had a good figure, as the cleavage of a shapely bust was visible through the open neck of her red-and-blue striped shirt, the top three buttons of which were open. She wore a little jewellery, which like her clothes spoke of taste and quality. There were medium-sized hoop earrings, a gold chain around her neck with a pendant of dark stone hanging from it, just at the start of her cleavage and drawing the eye to it, and some dark red bangles on her wrists. She was wearing a blue jacket and a matching skirt which tapered to her knees, with a slit vent at the rear, and below this was visible some blue tights or stockings, and a pair of open-toe shoes with a medium heel. Her waist was neat and below it the flare of her hips was emphasised by the tight cut of the skirt, as were the prominence of her breasts above, helped by the support of an underwired bra. I saw all this because when I came in, she rose and in a friendly way shook my hand, introduced herself as Clarissa, the owner of the store, and asked if she could help. I explained my mission, and she smiled and directed me to the racks of evening dresses and ball gowns. ‘I have quite a lot in that line, actually’, she said; ‘have a look and take your time, pick out some and try them on for size.’

There certainly were some lovely dresses, ranging from austere ones with beautiful cuts and lines, to revealing confections of light satin which were out of my league for confidence even more than their cost; as always with clothes, the less there was of it, the more expensive its price tag! But Sammy-Jayne had been right, there were plenty within my budget to consider, and several I definitely liked – in the end, there were three front-runners, and I couldn’t decide between them. The other customers had left by now, and it was coming up to twelve thirty when Clarissa approached me again. She explained that because she was the only person there, she normally closed the shop for lunch between 12.30 and 1.30, but she didn’t want me to be rushed. She said that she usually stayed in the shop anyway during this period, catching up with paperwork, and it would be no problem if I wanted to keep looking or to try things on, indeed perhaps she could help me – but she would need to lock the front door so that more customers did not come in, as long as I did not mind that. Of course, I said that was fine, and thanked her for letting me stay in.

Clarissa locked the shop door, turned the sign round to show ‘Closed’ to the outside world, and pulled down the blind. Then she walked back to the rack that I had been going through, and looked at my choices. She regarded me appraisingly, and said she thought two of them might suit me very well, but picked out another couple of gowns – from those with the more daring cuts – instead of my third choice. ‘You are a very pretty girl’, she said, ‘and I think you have the poise and figure to carry these off – in fact, you would be quite stunning in them.’ Well, I did have a fairly full figure for not-quite-seventeen, with breasts and buttocks that were well-rounded and not an ounce of excess weight anywhere on my body. My tits and ass looked larger than they were because I had a small waist and because I liked to wear tight-fitting jeans and tops. I’m not a natural blonde, but my hairdresser layers it and dyes my hair so that it looks mainly blonde with darker hints underneath. I have a smooth complexion, large expressive eyes and a small mouth. When I stand in front of the mirror, whether in clothes, just underwear or nude, I know I look pretty hot.

‘Let’s try these on,’ said Clarissa. I started to move towards the changing room at the back of the store, but she pointed out that with the shop closed there was no need – that there was more room in the middle to pace about and some larger mirrors.