lace collections for formal party

Big Mike and the Wedding Dress

I could see the reflection of passing cars behind me in the wedding dress display window. My attention was soon drawn to the shiny image of the top of my head. If I lost one more hair I would be completely bald. I took in a solemn breath and looked at Mike. Him and his glorious growing thick hair. Fucker! He was concentrating hard on what was inside the shop and it wasn’t his hair.

“Mike. You think I should get hair transplants?”
Unmoved by my question Mike says, “Oh yeah go ahead and get liposuction on your gut, laser your eyes, and get a breast reduction while you’re at it. G., you look fine man. Why do you want a bunch of dots on your head anyway?”
“Yeah you’re right. Who needs dots?”

I looked past my reflection in the glass to the world inside the store’s display. There was a future in there, and a dream of happiness and togetherness. “Pretty aren’t they Mike?”
“Yeah.” There was a long silence that men experience together when being sensitive.
“Yep. They are beautiful.”
“Which dress you like Mike?”
“Don’t know. Hard to tell.”
“Yeah. You’re right. It’s hard to tell. They’re all really nice looking. Maybe you need to decide which one you like by the way it makes you feel when you look at it. Now that one with the beads sewn all over is an eye catcher."

Mike turns to me in a serious tone and says. “Those are bugle beads. Not good. They’re made out of glass. Crystal reflects light better than glass or rhinestones. But I'll bet that one with the sweetheart neckline. I’ll bet that has crystals on it. Look at the way it sparkles and catches the light.”
“Crystals huh. I think you’re right Mike.”

It was Sunday and almost Christmas. The shop was closed. We couldn’t go in to get a closer look so Mike and I stood there with our hands in our pockets. Standing. Admiring. Dreaming. Thinking.
“Hey Mike.”
“You know when I asked Britt to marry me she said she didn't want a white dress."
"G., you see that dress?"
"Uh huh."
"That' not a good color. It's a dead white. Dead white can bring out the imperfections in the skin. It dulls the eyes too."

Looking at the dress I thought about Brit and her beautiful skin. It was white soft skin. I leaned my head on the cool glass of the store window. "So you think it was wrong she didn't want a white dress?"

Mike took a sip from his hot coffee. "Buddy the minute she told you no white dress you should have run for the hills as fast as you could. Then you wouldn't be standing here in all this pain now. Everyone wants a white dress at his or her wedding. Hell G. even I want a white dress and I'm a guy." Mike was a guy. A six foot-five, two hundred twenty pound motorcycle riding kind of guy.

My stomach turned over again. I missed Britt. I missed her being tall and standing next to me. I turned away from the window. Across the street Strouds was having an all white sheet sale. The white dress was all I could think. A white sports car pulled up next to the curb. A guy in a white suit jumped out and put a coin in the meter. When he walked away I could see that even his shoes were white. I looked down at the ground. A white spider skidded across the sidewalk. I stepped on him. What the hell did I do that for? I just killed for no reason at all. lace collections for formal party

"Hey G. there it is. That's the best dress here." I took my eyes off the pile of spider parts and spider hair smeared across the walk. Through the window I tried finding the dress Mike was excited about.
"Which one Mike?"
"That one on the stage there. Lit up with the spotlights. The one with the mermaid cut and the small train at the bottom. It has a portrait neckline on it. It shows the shoulders and the neck. It doesn't even need pearls with it. The beauty of a woman's neck and bust would make that dress come to life. Maybe a little birdcage veil to give the final touch of surprise at the alter."

Hell Mike was right. It was a beautiful dress.

"Mike, tell me something. When your girl walks down the aisle are you going to cry when you see her in that dress?"

Mike reached down and pulled up the back of his sagging trousers. Looking me in the eye he said. "What you kidding. If I were to cry at the wedding it would destroy it all. You do it and you'll make the girl look bad. That's no way to start off a marriage. I found out a long time ago women respect you if you can talk their language. Like knowing all about these dresses in the window here. Damn I can sew better than most women. But a man crying at his wedding?”

“Oh I don’t know Mike. I probably wouldn’t be able to keep from crying. The whole moment would get to me.”

Mike hitched up his pants again and said, “Hey let’s head over to the cemetery and look at the graves. It’s the Christmas season and some people put decorations and Xmas trees and lights on their family graves.”

“Okay Mike.”