Chapter 1 With this Dress...

success. They moved for six years
with the ebb and flow of their re-
HAUTE FICTION
Three years ago I would have been of who he was, the idea of who she lationship and as a team created a
wearing this gown if I had chosen was, the idea of what they could be lucrative firm. She worked daily
differently. If I had gone with the together. Its very foundation began
as most things do, undefined his side to build his. She was suffi-
to build her career and nightly by
flow. If I had been weaker, stronger,
less selfish, more giving, willing to and with a hint of expectation. His ciently happy.
settle for something that was, more name was Michael. Hers, Stella.
When they became engaged, the
or less, less. I abandoned security They were equally ambitious and
for something far greater, the freedom
to do as I choose.
wore a soft gray button down shirt
well suited for one another. He
and blue jeans the evening they
met. She wore all black
Most people do not understand
my decision. They give it much
more credence than it deserves. So
what? I chose not to marry Mr. all
wrong. I gave myself a chance. I
was twenty seven years old and I
changed the course of my life.
They might say “Poor girl” or
“How did she gets the guts?” or
something from the perimeter that
seems right but somehow misses
the mark. It does not take guts
to leave a situation you are in; it
takes curiosity. Sometimes, if not
always, you have to experience
what you don’t want to discover
what you might. It’s an unstable
science. It isn’t exact, but it is true
in some spiritual sense of trial and
error. Seven years of my life were
sacrificed for the trial of my heart,
and that was my only error.
Initially Stella was in awe of Michael
and thought that she would
do well in his world. He was five
years older than she, fresh out of
college and embarking on a career
in photography. They met at an
advertising agency where Stella
interned as a Junior Account Exec-
She
With
never looked back, except
This Dress...
for moments like this, when she
thought that she used to be what
It happened very quickly.
she thought she should be. She was
utive. Michael provided her with a
sufficiently happy then. But it’s an
It was then, one year before the
creative outlet and gave her a sense
innocent mistake. How does one
know how she truly feels when the
of purpose. She stood by Michael’s wedding, that Stella began negotiating
The essential element to
two
a
big contracts, the first
side and cultivated opportunities
gears are in motion after a slow
steady grind?
in her own network to make him a for herself, with Three Dimensions
Architects, the other for Michael
It began with a blind date, the idea
We can tell so much from someone
at first glance, but it takes years to
discover the true person lying beneath
his presence. It was the impression
of Michael that first appealed
to me. Bright, energetic, a
healthy change from the men I dated
before him. But people change,
or perhaps it takes time to see the
lurking truth behind a facade. I
wonder was his impression of me
was that night. I too was bright
but I hadn’t yet discovered what
to do with my brilliance. If you get
caught up in expectation, be ready
for disillusionment.
perfect day
that didn’t happen.
future was an unspoken arrangement.
They had it all figured out.
She could see the course of her
life stretching out in a path that
reached toward Michael’s destiny.
Their lives were intertwined and
her identity was structured in a way
that coincided with that picture. It
mattered little what she wanted because
she didn’t feel strongly about
anything in particular. As long as
she had her persona and perceived
stature, she didn’t need to consider
her ambitions. She went in accordance
with the motions and, to her,
success was a quest to prove herself
worthy of everyone else’s respect
and envy. The conventions of
marriage did not require Stella to
think of herself. Michael had a trophy
of a fiancée whose worth came
from being a strong, desirable idea
of what a woman should be. The
particulars did not matter to him.
She had a strong presence with a
weak voice and didn’t know the
difference until she was presented
with other options.
with an international art licensing

REEM ACRA BRIDAL
Three years ago I would have been
wearing this gown if I had chosen
differently. If I had gone with the
flow. If I had been weaker, stronger,
less selfish, more giving, willing to
settle for something that was, more
or less, less. I abandoned security
for something far greater, the
freedom to do as I choose.
Most people do not understand
my decision. They give
it much more credence than
it deserves. So what? I chose
not to marry Mr. all wrong. I
gave myself a chance. I was
twenty seven years old and I
changed the course of my life.
They might say “Poor girl” or
“How did she gets the guts?”
or something from the perimeter
that seems right but somehow
misses the mark. It does not take
guts to leave a situation you are
in; it takes curiosity. Sometimes, if
not always, you have to experience
what you don’t want to discover
what you might. It’s an unstable
science. It isn’t exact, but it is true
in some spiritual sense of trial and
error. Seven years of my life were
sacrificed for the trial of my heart,
and that was my only error.
She never looked back, except
for moments like this, when she
thought that she used to be what
she thought she should be. She was
sufficiently happy then. But it’s an
innocent mistake. How does one
know how she truly feels when the
gears are in motion after a slow
steady grind?
It began with a blind date, the idea
of who he was, the idea of who she
was, the idea of what they could be
together. Its very foundation began
as most things do, undefined
and with a hint of expectation. His
name was Michael. Hers, Stella.
Sometimes,
if not always,
you have to experience
what you don’t want
to discover what you might.
It’s an unstable science.
It isn’t exact, but it is true
in some spiritual sense of
trial and error.
They were equally ambitious and
well suited for one another. He
wore a soft gray button down shirt
and blue jeans the evening they
met. She wore all black.
We can tell so much from someone
at first glance, but it takes years to
discover the true person lying beneath
his presence. It was the impression
of Michael that first appealed
to me. Bright, energetic, a
healthy change from the men I dated
before him. But people change,
or perhaps it takes time to see the
lurking truth behind a facade. I
wonder was his impression of me
was that night. I too was bright
but I hadn’t yet discovered what
to do with my brilliance. If you get
caught up in expectation, be ready
for disillusionment.
Initially Stella was in awe of Michael
and thought that she would
do well in his world. He was five
years older than she, fresh out of
college and embarking on a career
in photography. They met at an
advertising agency where Stella
interned as a Junior Account
Executive. Michael provided
her with a creative outlet and
gave her a sense of purpose.
She stood by Michael’s side
and cultivated opportunities
in her own network to make
him a success. They moved
for six years with the ebb and
flow of their relationship and
as a team created a lucrative
firm. She worked daily to
build her career and nightly
by his side to build his. She
was sufficiently happy.
When they became engaged, the
future was an unspoken arrangement.
They had it all figured out.
She could see the course of her
life stretching out in a path that
reached toward Michael’s destiny.
Their lives were intertwined and
her identity was structured in a way
that coincided with that picture. It
mattered little what she wanted because
she didn’t feel strongly about
anything in particular. As long as
she had her persona and perceived
stature, she didn’t need to consider
her ambitions. She went in accordance
with the motions and, to her,
success was a quest to prove herself
worthy of everyone else’s respect
and envy. The conventions of
marriage did not require Stella to

think of herself. Michael had a trophy
of a fiancée whose worth came
from being a strong, desirable idea
of what a woman should be. The
particulars did not matter to him.
She had a strong presence with a
weak voice and didn’t know the
difference until she was presented
with other options.
It happened very quickly.
It was then, one year before the
wedding, that Stella began negotiating
two big contracts, the first
for herself, with Three Dimensions
Architects, the other for Michael
with an international art licensing
firm based in Rhode Island. Her
contract stipulated a nine month
commitment developing integrated
technologies for Three Dimensions’
six nationwide locations.
She stole the account alongside
John, her boss at Interplex, a cutting
edge web technologies firm.
John was a genius who needed
direction. Partnering with John
would present great frustration,
but she was willing to sacrifice her
energy for the sake of a short term
highly lucrative venture. Once she
fulfilled her obligations to Three
Dimensions, she’d have a solid
foundation for her life with Michael
and his art licensing career.
Michael’s agreement with the licensing
firm hinged on Stella’s
future involvement in developing
strategies to commercialize his art.
One deal was a stepping stone to
the other. Both contracts depended
on her involvement; both were initiated,
negotiated and sold by her.
Both hinged on her pivotal role to
keep other people’s promises and
make their potential become reality.
I had grand ideas linked to the
talents of two men who needed to
be managed and promoted. I gave
just enough so to not overshadow
them. I was a force to be reckoned
with by my own self. Aggressive,
but careful and always perfectly
presented. I worked hard and I
looked good doing it. Such things
mattered.
It was a time of unbridled potential
and investment in the future. At 27
years of age, Stella was building
a life with a man who appreciated
her value. Michael had a vested
future in her, and she in him. They
had a solid financial foundation
and a world of opportunity at their
talented, driven fingertips. Life
was good. They were partners, engaged
to be married, financially
sound; she with her big contract
and he with his art and bright future.
When the contract negotiations
concluded, we made our way home
from Rhode Island feeling a sense
of anticipation for two separate
things. Michael for his possibility
and me for my lover.
Yes, my lover. He was the one who
awakened in me a passion I had
forgotten, or perhaps never knew,
the one who removed me from the
scenario of a life rooted in Michael’s
proposed successes. My
distraction. My consolation prize
for coming in second place to
someone who would always come
first.
It was on that fateful night, three
months before the anticipated conclusion
of my contract with Three
Dimensions. I was called to a dinner.
A table for four. Me with my
partner John and our clients, the
ones we stole away from Interplex.
The ones who willingly accepted
a sales pitch, deceptive but with
mutual benefit. We see each other
clearly. They in their suits and
ties. Me, hair all sexy and wild,
in a red dress, tight to the skin.
Bold, courageous, wanting. We
drink wine, banter forth and back
to the subject of the evening. Despite
a project incomplete, an offer
to spearhead a new technology
division with Three Dimensions. A
delay, a huge leap, a decision to be
made. Vice President of Marketing.
I could buy more dresses, and
skirts, and suits and coats. A load
of goods.
It was the moment I was waiting
for, the culmination of everything I
worked hard to achieve in my quest
for validation. I responded instinctively
to those promises made. It
all sounds good. But a promise is
a tricky thing linked to intention.
Promises shadow other promises.
It was that night, after dinner, that
our eyes met. A red two toned iridescent
dress by Guess, tight
against his skin, then peeled away,
slowly away, away from everything
before it, revealing a self I recognized
only by his touch. We go all
the way with no second guessing. I
had to do what made sense to me,
to fight for a high profile position,
to indulge in my lover, to follow my
heart. Of course, at the time I had
little understanding about gain
and loss.
In the months that followed, she
and Michael busied themselves
with planning their wedding, an
elaborate affair for two hundred
people with all the trimmings and
grand traditions. But all of it was
background noise for what was really
important, her quest for a bridal
costume of grand proportions, a
statement of her heart, and all the
things that made her who she was.
We visited Kleinfeld’s in Brooklyn,
my parents and best friend
Gabi, on a pilgrimage for a dress
in the mecca of bridal fashion. The
power of custom is a formidable
force. This search begs the question
- who am I in the midst of this
whirlwind? What does the bride
in me look like? I am trying to define
my place in this world before
I have found a place within myself.
Perhaps I lack bridal intuition.
One dress is too shiny. One too
poofy. One just too... too! Is there
a dress to describe this feeling of
uncertainty, of giving in to something
not quiet right? I am more
comfortable in a red dress than a
white one. There are traditions to
follow, but the only constant I have
is my gut instinct. Fashion is a tangible
truth that I can not deny.
“Excuse me,” Stella beckons the
patient Kleinfeld’s bridal consultant
who has done her best to accommodate
multiple requests. “Do
you have this one?,” she asks as
she reaches into her handbag for a
torn page from Brides magazine.
“I believe we do,” the saleswoman
responds with anticipation.
Stella admired the Reem Acra
dress for weeks, but was told by
countless people that it wasn’t appropriate
for a bride. Regardless,
in her heart she was secretly comparing
all the others she tried on
to it. It was the one that spoke to
her amidst the noise and conflict of
other people’s opinions.
Stella looks at Gabi with excitement
in the dressing room as the
dutiful saleswoman approaches. In
her arms is a sweep of ivory spun
silk, cut into a sleek funnel of a
dress, a seemingly endless flow of
fabric cascading from her arms like
an offering. “Give this a try and I
will locate the shrug,” the saleswoman
intones. Stella and Gabi
look at the photo of the intricately
beaded ivory shrug with sleeves
that open into a dramatic bell at
the wrist. Gabi begins to help her
into the dress and whispers, “this
is either going to wow you or disappoint
you. Let’s find out.”
The dress rested against her body
closely, beginning with a strapless
line across the chest, continuing
throughout the torso, culminating
into a growing a-line with carefully
placed circular stitching down
the bodice and beyond the figure
to follow her.
A promise is a tricky thing linked to intention.
Promises shadow other promises.
The spirals move in a magical
way as my heart spins round and
round, from my fiancée, to my lover
and back to me.
Gabi knows the look in her best
friend’s eyes. “It’s amaaaazing,”
Stella announces as she pivots to
see herself in the mirror. “I like
the way it accentuates the body. I
like its lack of ornament, the simple
stitching, and the fact that it is
not shiny or poofy. I have nothing
to hide so I don’t need a dress that
distracts people from the truth. I
need to be myself, right?” Gabi
looks at her friend intently and
agrees, “Fuck yeh!”
From outside the dressing room,
the sales consultant returns, whispering,
“I found the shrug, but

One evening I am the object of a man’s
desire in a red dress. The next, I am
property of a man’s expectations in a white
one. I am bound to duty
amidst a secret longing.
I am sorry to say that we do not
have a sample in ivory. So if you
don’t mind trying this one.” Gabi
retrieves the shrug and exclaims
upon first sight, “Oh my! It’s red!”
Red! I remember red. Red is a color
not to be taken lightly. One has
to live up to the reputation of red
or expectation will let you down.
One must be bold. Damn sure and
ready for anything.
She giggles to herself “it’s red!,”
as she sashays toward her parents
on the showroom floor. “It’s red,”
her mother says with awkward
surprise, to which Stella responds
“Yes, RED.”
Perhaps I do have bridal intuition.
I may damn well be a bridal
psychic. These bell sleeves ring a
truth, sounding out the call of my
heart. It makes me wonder, can the
real me survive in this world when
part of me is elsewhere? One evening
I am the object of a man’s desire
in a red dress. The next, I am
property of a man’s expectations
in a white one. I am bound to duty
amidst a secret longing.
Her mother is astonished and asks
as casually as she can, “but they
will be able to order the shrug
in ivory, right?” Stella nods, “of
course they will.” “How about a
veil?” Her father implores, “you
have to wear a veil.” She answers
quickly, “Nope. No veil. No tiara.
Just the dress - and the shrug, in
ivory of course.” Disappointed,
her father exclaims, “but the dress
is so simple; you don’t look like a
bride.”
But I look like ME. Be bold. Be
courageous, damn sure, ready for
anything. What can happen is anyone’s
guess.
She looks at her audience and then
at herself in the mirror, passes her
fingers along the edge of the circular
seams, bridles her courage and
turns to the sales associate awaiting
her next request. “I’ll take this
one.”
Red shrug it off.
After her Reem Acra revelation,
she continued going through the
motions of her life, as a confident
professional, a strong woman in
the throws of unexpected things,
a passionate mistress and a disillusioned
fiancée. The latter bound
her to certain obligations and she
kept up her charade with dignity,
playing the role of loving wife to
be. On the fourth of July, she and
Michael are invited to his brother’s
home for a barbecue. In her usual
style, she prepared a decadent dessert
for the backyard affair. It was
a gesture of her heart that would be
dishonored in a way she was hardly
prepared for.
When it came time for dessert,
Stella excused herself to make finishing
touches to her preparation
in the kitchen. Upon return, she
joined Michael’s family to discover
that his brother had served his
wife’s dessert, a lemon Jello pie
recipe she found in Good Housekeeping,
before Stella could present
hers. Everyone had eaten the
Lemon Jell-o Pie except for Michael’s
father who respectfully
waited for Stella to serve her creation.
She was grateful to him for
his respect, but it was not enough
to serve her pride.
I made almond crepes with port
wine soaked cherries and Chantilly
cream. They say we can all ex-
GUESS S
pect our just desserts. I assure you,
Lemon Jello Pie is not mine. But
we swallow what we must, despite
our occasional indigestion. Shrug
it off...
The one thing she had to maintain
her dignity was her work and her
claim to success. This confidence
caused Michael to question her
devotion to him. Once Stella was
offered the Vice President of Marketing
position, Michael started to
change little by little. As she contemplated
her options, he began to
set forth rules upon Stella with a
casual nonchalance. In order to be
a “good wife” she would have to
act in accordance with his dictates.
One day he told her that she would
have to read certain magazines and
work out three times a week. The
next, she couldn’t leave the house
before 8 am and had to have dinner
on the table by 6 pm. In essence,
she would have to be a well balanced,
subservient homemaker,
bread winner and ideal version of a
wife. She would be what he wanted
her to be. His idea.
My fiancée wants to manage me
but I do not want to bear the weight
of a man’s security for the rest of
my life. My responsibility is to love
him unconditionally, but his love
has very certain conditions. This is
a betrayal from the start. Michael
feels betrayed by my opportunities.
I feel betrayed by his need
to control me. What happens
now, when things have not gone
according to plan? What kept
us together ultimately drives us
apart. My betrayal is quite obvious,
but his is rooted in selfish
motivation. Where is our honor?
She had a decision to make. If
she accepted the offer from Three
Dimensions, she would not be
free to support Michael’s art licensing
career. But she knew
that if she turned the offer down,
she would always wonder what
might have been if she invested
her future in her self. Part of her
wanted to give everything to her
intended husband and the life
they created. The other part had
an inkling about the future, that
someday she would look at Michael
and feel robbed. And then
there was the love in her heart
for another, a man that showed
her a part of herself that Michael
was too afraid to acknowledge,
the hidden part that dwarfed her
fiancée, the woman she wanted
to become. She was being com-

promised and didn’t know what to
feel. She remained silent as Michael
placed his rules upon her.
What can I say? Michael has ideas
of me before I can acknowledge
them myself. I question his motives.
Does he place his demands
because he loves me, or does he
place them out of fear? Michael
wants to marry the version of me
he likes best, a figment of his imagination.
He is threatened by my
success, as it will take away from
his own. He wants to curb my freedom.
Therefore, his proposal was
not out of love, it was out of ego.
In the second week of Michael’s
marital constitution he eventually
concedes. As they load the dishwasher,
he hands her a plate and
says “I will support you in accepting
this VP position, but if you
are not happy you will have to do
the right thing.” She ponders the
statement like she would a line
from a sweeping novel and delivers
hers with dramatic brilliance,
“I’m curious, Michael, what’s the
right thing?” He responds, with no
concern for appropriateness or her
feelings, “You’ll quit your job to
save our marriage.”
Damn! That’s not right! I see now
that all of these years we held our
perceptions of what we would like
each other to become, despite who
we truly are. It’s a lie of the heart.
This particular love is a compromise.
It has no way of surviving
without conviction. What more is
there to say?
She quietly deliberates the situation
for two days and finally visits
her lifelong friend Erica and her
husband Frank. She tells of how
her fiancée has placed his dictates
on her. He spoke for years about
staying home and raising their
children so she wouldn’t have
to sacrifice her career. She now
knows that if her career is not benefiting
Michael he does not deem it
valid. She tells them that she does
not want to look at a man in twenty
years and feel robbed, that she cannot
compete with Lemon Jello Pie
for the rest of her life. She’s never
even read Good Housekeeping.
When she returns home to Michael
that evening, Stella says nothing.
She pretends that she has nothing
to say because she is not sure that
she can say it. Once she does her
life will change drastically. There
is a lot to consider. She has built
a future with Michael that in an
instant could be taken away. She
would be left alone with a hope
that might betray her. There were
no guarantees, not in the security
of this marriage or in the unknown
that freedom from it would bring.
Fear always challenges the heart,
does it not? But I am more afraid
of my potential being robbed than
my security being lost. I have my
own successes, my own dreams,
my own passions, and most of
them do not include Michael. He
is an extension of my existence,
someone I can certainly live without.
Seven years. How could I not
have known?
Michael is agitated with her silence.
He demands an update. “I
can’t play house with you any longer.
Do you want to postpone the
wedding?”
The words did not form on my lips.
They didn’t linger inside. They
flowed off the tip of my tongue with
no warning.
She looks at her engagement ring
and then at Michael, and replies
with a tone as light as a feather,
“No, I don’t want to marry you.”
The ring made a clink against the
wooden coffee table, signaling the
moment’s finality. She didn’t cry.
The day of her planned wedding
came and went like all the rest.
Life was a mess of change that
went on without Michael.
The memory fades into the silhouette
of this dress.
As she retrieves the dress from her
closet she allows herself the consideration
that her gut response did
not require three years prior. She
cradles the Reem Acra gown and
realizes that the fabric of the dress
feels heavier in her arms than the
decision weighs in her heart. Her
choice has great magnitude but
does not weigh her down. She is
free, of him, of commitment, of inevitable
regret, of hollow duty, and
sometimes, even of expectation.
With this dress I thee wed the version
of myself I like best. The one
who did not settle. The one who
knew better. The one who is ever
changing.
The memory fades
into the silhouette of
this dress.