Big Mistake. Big. Huge.

I often try to relate my life to movies or television. The only shows and movies I truly know well enough to play this game with are Friends, The Office, My Best Friend’s Wedding, and Step Brothers. Therefore, if I am relating any event in my life to these big or small screen classics, it must be pretty darn hilarious. I will be the first person to tell you that I love telling stories. The stories often have some type of funny spin on them, because if they didn’t, well, I probably wouldn’t tell it. One of the things I love about telling stories is the ability to relate it to something everyone knows. And yes, I am using the term “everyone” loosely.  I am ecstatic when I can relate my life to the Friends episode when Rachel catches up on her correspondence, The Office scene when Michael Scott can’t parallel park, or the scene in Step Brothers when Brennan and Dale build bunk beds and are thrilled to have more room for activities.

While I was in Chicago, I had a movie moment. I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I skipped the over-the-knee hooker boots and cutout dress (even though both of those styles are surprisingly popular and mainstream) and was simply refused service at a store.

Bri, who you have all read many stories about, is getting married! She and her fiancee will be getting married in May, and I am lucky enough to be part of their wedding, so I need to buy a bridesmaid dress. Bri has been going a little Pinterest crazy since the engagement and at least a hundred of her pins have been devoted to bridesmaid dresses. She thought she had narrowed down her search to a single designer, and asked another bridesmaid to go try on the dresses. Samantha went, tried on the dresses and sent her feedback and photos. The dresses seemed fine, but Samantha might not have been the best man for the job. Samantha is probably 5- foot-nothing and a size 00. The dresses she tried hung on her tiny frame. Bri thought they were okay, but she wasn’t sure. Knowing that I was going to Chicago and there was a store that sold this designer’s dresses, I offered to go try them on for her.

Saturday morning Erin had rehearsal, so my mom and I had time to kill before her performance. We wandered around a bit before deciding to head to the bridesmaid dress store. The website said they were open 10 – 5 on Saturdays, so we started walking. About a mile later we found the address and waited while three girls with humongous sparklers and their posses exited the elevator. My mom and I got in the elevator with another giggly group of girls. I put on my sunglasses, because the massive rocks they were all rocking were catching the light and too bright for my unprotected eyes. We got off the elevator, turned right and I saw the script writing on the door “By Appointment Only.” Shoot! It definitely did not say that on the website.

We walked in the door and the small shop had a few racks of dresses, and a few people milling about. There was a group of women on the sofas on the far side of the store looking at books and magazines, I assume getting ideas for dresses. There was a woman in a wedding dress surrounded by five other women comparing veils and sashes. No one acknowledged us when we walked in, so we walked further into the store. When I finally locked eyes with a woman that appeared to work in the store, she came over with the most fake smile, tan, hair and, well, other things, that I had ever seen.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi. I am a bridesmaid in my friend’s wedding and she would like us to get the Alfred Sung D500 dress. I live in Wisconsin and can’t get the dress there, so I was hoping to try on the dress while I am here.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t. I saw your hours online and didn’t realize it was by appointment only. Do you have that dress here?”

The woman rolled her eyes a bit.

“Let me check.”

… long pause…

“Yes, we do.”

… long pause…

“Would I be able to try it on?”

“No, I’m sorry, we are completely booked today.”

I looked to the right and the two dressing rooms that were completely empty, and then back at the woman.

“Okay, may I see the dress?”

The woman didn’t respond but started to walk to the other side of the store. I assumed this meant that she was going to show us the dress, so I followed.

“Here it is.”

“Thank you very much. So all of these dresses are in the same line, correct?”

She looked annoyed with me before giving me an answer.

My mom and I looked at the dresses, felt the fabric, and compared the different available styles. As the two dressing rooms remained wide open, my mom held up different dresses which I then stuck my head through the hanger and pulled around the front of me so she could see.

The two dressing rooms were still wide open.

After a few minutes we were impressed by the dresses, but knew that there wasn’t much else we could do.

As we started to walk out I walked slowly to try to get the attention of one of the women working. When no one wanted to help I was able to stop the original meanie while she was about to walk past me.

“Will you be open tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come back to try on the dress tomorrow?”

“No. We are totally booked tomorrow as well.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s a bummer.”

My mom and I walked out and the open dressing rooms were still open.

When we got in the elevator my mom said what I was thinking, “that was unbelievable! Was she serious? You wanted to try on one dress!”

“I know! It wasn’t as though I walked in and said, ‘oh, I just need a navy dress.’ No! I knew the ONE dress I wanted to try on. And I can’t buy it in Wisconsin! I would have paid the $200 right there to buy it from them. Ridiculous.”

I wasn’t wearing hooker boots, but I was refused service by a very snotty saleswoman. When I told the story to my friends, I told them that I felt like Julia Roberts.

 

 

“How much is this?”

“I don’t think this would fit you.”

Well, lady, if you don’t let me try it on, I will never know!

 

I hope she works on commission. It wouldn't be a huge mistake, but it was a mistake!