I found the brightly colored, bedazzled piece of satin puzzling -- and then horrifying.
"It's a dress," she said, glancing nervously at my teenage daughter who was giving me her best "please, do not say what I think you're going to say, mom" look.
"That's not a dress," I blurted. "That's a hand towel!"
OK, it was a super fancy hand towel, but seriously, I'd only imagined that kind of outfit in one kind of scenario and it would involve my child over my dead -- very dead -- body.
My daughter laughed and moved toward me as though I'd lost my bearings, meanwhile, I felt the need to make myself clear.
"We're looking for a dress to a sweetheart dance -- at a high school," I said speaking slow and pleasantly as I slipped my arm around Rachel. "This is for my daughter. She's a sophomore. That dress? No. And nothing that looks remotely like that. We'd like something more modest, you know, something a teenage girl would wear to a school dance."
I have never considered myself a prude, but after dress shopping with my daughter last month, I've decided I might have to reconsider this perception. It seems the style this spring is fluorescent and flaunty.
Not only were the options nearly all strapless, they were shorter than most cheerleading skirts -- and at least you can wear shorts under those. We struggled to find anything with even spaghetti straps that might approach knee length.
And when we asked for modest, we got pioneer-like garb. Really? Where do I live? I might expect this if I were shopping on the strip in Vegas. I am not a practicing Mormon, but I took for granted that living in Utah would automatically give me a plethora of safe options.
I was stunned, saddened but also eternally grateful that my daughter was equally disgusted by most of the options. What if I had to battle fashion trends AND the will of a teenage girl?
We eventually found a dress, at a regular clothing store, and quite accidentally. And when we marched up to pay for it, I felt like we'd won the lottery. Not only was it modest, it was stylish -- and (drum roll please) it cost $16.
"It's not that big a deal, Mom," Rachel said as I, delirious with fatigue and overcome with satisfaction, showed it off to everyone.
"Yeah?" I said, pride nearly bursting the zipper on my sweats. "Let's just say, clueless designers 0, Super Mom 1. Now for the victory dance."
Amy Donaldson is a Deseret News sports writer.
http://www.mormontimes.com
