The hunting of the dress: an epic in five fits

Fit the First: Before

A wedding is a beautiful thing
And after finding the eponymous ring
One further task may bring duress:
The hunting of a wedding dress.
My own small town is rather short
On gowns of that particular sort,
So Mom and I called up a store
In Albuquerque's wider shores.
But illness struck, and cancelled flat
Our appointed slot, and that was that.


Fit the Second: Friday

A week went by. Our health restored,
We ventured out to hunt once more.
One Jessica was sweet, but tired,
And draggled was her stock entire.
The dresses there--and elsewhere too--
Came comparatively huge!
I don't consider myself too small,
But they just didn't fit at all.
We partly paused the dresses' slips
By tying up the back with clips,
But plastic clips, and metal clamps,
Make airy spirits rather damp.
We fortified ourselves with lunch
And tried again with Andie's bunch.
Andie too was sweet, but there
The dresses' price was near despair.
My preferred "crustacean" glam
Cost upward of three thousand clams,
While the simple veil in favor
Was hundreds more than I could savor.
The Dress itself did not live there
So we sought some other lair.
We next met Liz, who had a ball
Finding me two dresses small.
But both had iffy workmanship
And a dressing room too small for the slip!
As we neared our house that Friday night
My Olwen started rattling--light
At first, but thicker later, until
Our concern could not stay still.
"Dad," I cried, "Please fix my car!
I'm afraid to take her very far!"
Probably it was just cosmetic,
But it sounded less than copacetic.


Fit the Third: Saturday Morning

Daddy tightened some loose screw
And cured the rattle. We tried anew
To hunt The Dress-the elusive Dress--
And got our coats, when Dad expressed
The need to fill my tires with air.
He went, and we stayed in, and there
Mom computed while I played
With my mousies. Though afraid
I caught my Bing, and then transferred
Attention to Marry, who scurried
From my hand, up on her cage,
And off the back! It seemed an age
As I waited for the whoosh-
The squeak--the smoosh--
Of the mouse who rashly leaped
Down four shelves. But Marry creeped
Into hiding as I emptied
The wrought-iron shelf to locate simply
Dust bunnies and no mouse. The next
Events combine and meld, the vexed
Shutting, pouncing, luring, shining,
Coaxing, missing, and designing,
As still my frantic Maraschino
Eluded like some desperado.
But Dad came back, and caught her under
The shelf that had begun that blunder.
We breathed again, and I and Mom
Left, and salvaged some aplomb.


Fit the Fourth: Saturday afternoon

Darlene's was fine, but didn't have
The Dress I wanted, yes, must have!
And Darlene lectured me on why
I shouldn't want my size to try.
We then dropped by a little shop
Of Celtic things--so I bought
A how-to book on drawing knots
And promptly started sketching lots.


Fit the Fifth: Saturday Late Afternoon

At last we made it to the place
Where our first appointment space
We'd given up. There Madelyn
Gave me a catalog, to begin,
And figured out what styles I like.
We went back to a room to try
Her best suggestions: a dressing room,
Expansive enough I could assume
Those floofy dresses; mirror, chair,
And racks, and table, all were there.
She even had two little samples
For brides like me who aren't so ample.
And best of all, we soon assessed
She had my Dress--the elusive Dress,
With ample floof and details exotic,
Clear proof my hunt was not quixotic!
Its pictured model was pretty scary
But in it I look like a fairy,
So with tears and song we bought the gown
And wrote this poem for its renown.