A few months ago, I was driving around town and I saw a dress in a storefront. It was dazzling. I thought I might be seeing things, so I did a U-turn and doubled back. Sure enough, in what looked like an abandoned store front window was the most gorgeous dress in the history of dresses. And it made no sense. Because the dress appeared to be on a dress form in an abandoned building.
We have all sorts of storefronts here in Lakewood. You probably have a mental image of small town America's Main Street... now picture a city filled with those streets and you have Lakewood. Some of them are all renovated and lovely. Like this:
And some have seen better days.
And some are creepy as shit.
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| Yeah. I'm taking my finances there. Next to Dirty Town. |
This window was in a fairly run down part of Lakewood, right next door to low rent wino housing. I was on my way somewhere else, so I just kept going. But as the weeks went by, I found myself going out of my way to drive past the dress. I started dreaming of wearing it and petting it. I considered putting a brick in the car so I could throw it through the window and steal it. I'm pretty quick and I can't imagine the winos would make credible witnesses. Winston assured me that if I broke into an abandoned store front with a brick to steal a dress, he would not bail me out.
Oh, the dress. You can't imagine how lovely it is. Pale blue faded satin. Tiny cap sleeves, knee length cocktail dress. Very 50's, very classic styling. I slowed way down one day to admire it really closely, and realized that it has to be my exact size. I could tell. I could also tell that now, there were 3 sewing machines in the back of the shop! And suddenly, a sign on the door that read, "Closed!" There were THINGS in the abandoned store!!! My hopes soared!
So I started driving by more. I figured, at some point, the "Closed" sign would be gone and I could fly in and start throwing money at whoever the mysterious dressmaker was and run home and wear it every day for the rest of my life. But that damn "Closed" sign was up every time!
It invaded our dinner conversation:
Winston: So what did you do today?
Me: Who pays rent on a store front and never opens their goddamn shop? I mean, like how much does it even cost to rent one of those crappy store fronts, anyway? I go by at all sorts of random times and no one is ever there! It's madness! And I don't honestly think anyone would notice if I broke in and stole it. It's just sitting there unloved and unworn! It doesn't want to be with the winos anymore!
Winston: Are you still on about that dress? You are not stealing it. I will let your ass sit in the pokey.
Me: Waaaaaaaant it!!!!
Winston: I bet it's a hipster store. They're weeding you out.
Me: What the hell are you talking about? I swear I hate you.
Winston: It's a hipster store. Hipster dressmakers. They put an awesome dress in the window, and then put a closed sign on the door. Then people like YOU wander around outside beating your head against the glass and moaning, while they sit in the back laughing at you.
Me: No. No. That's not fair! All I want to do is give them your money!
Winston: Then you have to play it smart. Instead of standing out front, plastering yourself against the window, just sorta stand there looking across the street or something. Look bored and angry. I guarantee some hipster will open the door.
Me: And then I get the dress???
Winston: No. Then they ask you if you want to come in and you say, "No, looks lame."
Me: And then I get the dress???
Winston: No. Then they'll ask you if you like the dress. You want to say, "Oh my God I love it so bad!" but you can't! You say, "Pffft... that's pathetic. I saw a dress like that LAST year. I liked it then." Then they will hand you the dress for free.
Me: I can't! I can't reign it in!
Winston: I know. You're too happy and excited all the time. So you'll never get the dress.
Me: I really hate you. A lot.
Last weekend, I talked him into driving past AGAIN so I could make another pathetic attempt. I ran out of the car and flew to the window and began licking it and affixing myself to the glass. Metaphorically speaking. And also literally. There my lovely dress floated, just waiting for little blue birds to fly it to me and drape it over my head. And it looked like a proper store this time.
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| Screw you. It's mine. Find your own dream dress. |
The "Closed" sign was still there.
But the more pictures I took, I noticed 2 things:
1. The winos had gotten off of their bench and were approaching, no doubt wondering if there was crack in the storefront and that was why I was moaning and rubbing it.
2. There were more THINGS inside. Someone was coming and going AT LEAST, but never actually opening the store.
Pressing my face against the door frame and looking on an angle I saw something that said "Etsy shop." A clue! I sprinted past the winos, who were now eagerly looking inside too, and jumped back in the car.
Winston: That was embarrassing. You are never getting that dress. You were taking pictures and petting the door! And not ironically! I bet the hipsters were taking closed circuit pictures of you and they're already on the internet.
Me: Drive! I can smell the winos! They're like a zombie hoard! And screw you anyway... I have a clue. I think it's an Etsy shop. Which of course makes no sense, because why the hell would you sell on Etsy and also pay rent on a shop? It's insane. But I have a stalking direction now.
Winston: Never. Getting. The. Dress.
Me: I am totally clearing my schedule. I am coming here every day and I am going to carpet bomb their Etsy shop with emails until they give me the damn dress just to make me go away. I can be super annoying.
Winston: True...
Me: Shut up. I hate you. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you had brought the brick.
I found the Esty shop online, which consisted, I SWEAR TO GOD, of nothing but pictures of lovely dresses and a notice that read: WE ARE NO LONGER TAKING ORDERS. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CONVO US IF YOU HAVE PLACED AN ORDER IN THE PAST.
WTF????
Me: Winston! I sent them an email! The dress is mine!!! I can feel it!!
Winston: Big mistake. What did you say?
Me (reading): Dear Amazing Dressmaker,
I have fallen deeply in love with the charming blue satin dress in your storefront in Lakewood, OH. It is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen, and I am including my children on that list. When I think about petting it, I start crying. I would do or pay anything to wear one of your dresses and I would even wear the one in the window even though it's a little sun faded because it just adds to the appeal. I noticed the sun fading when I was standing out front taking pictures of it. I was not one of the winos. I was the lady crying softly. Please hear my plea and take pity on me because I have a wedding to go to in August and I want to look amazing. I also plan to wear the dress at least every other day.
Kindest Regards
Dana
Winston: If I were a hipster dressmaker and I got a letter like that, I would take the dress out back, toss it in a dumpster and light it on fire. Do you smell smoke?
Me: You're just jealous because I am on the cusp of nirvana, dress-wise. I can feel them email-ing me now.
Winston: You are so never getting that dress.
So that was Saturday. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday we were all sick (aliens) but Tuesday afternoon I drove by again on the way home from the pharmacy to see if by some miracle they were open. I figured they would overlook my pinkeye and joyfully hand the dress to its one true owner. At first I thought I had accidentally driven past it. So I turned around. And that's when it all started to dawn on me...
The dress was gone. And not just the dress, but the WHOLE DAMN STORE WAS GONE! EMPTY! WIPED CLEAN BY THE WRATH OF ANGRY HIP DRESSMAKERS! I frantically pulled the car over and stood speechless in front of a completely empty store. No dress. No sewing machines. No little "Closed" sign. And, as if to taunt me, one folding table and chair. On the table was a sports bottle and a bag of chips. A backpack on the floor. Those motherfuckers were watching me and eating chips!
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| GONE!!! |
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| EMPTY! |
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| SNACKING THROUGH MY PAIN! |
I stepped back and the winos and I considered the two neighboring storefronts. One was a holistic healer, but the algae growing on the glass front discouraged me from entering. The opposite store was some sort of leather goods store. Their window display consisted of an inspirational poster, a dog collar and a knife. It seemed the lesser of two evils.
Inside I found a large woman surrounded by bolts of leather. It was crazy hot, like a steam bath in there, but she was festively attired in a green turtleneck sweater, green sweatpants and a giant red bow on her head. She looked like a giant olive. With pimento.
I gave her a rambling explanation of how the blue dress next door had enchanted me totally and asked her if she knew what happened to the dress or the store or if she could get me in touch with the owners. I wonder if she noticed my pinkeye? This is what she said:
"You know, it's weird. That store opened maybe a year ago and I never saw a soul. It was never open or anything. And we share a back entrance so you'd think I would have seen something. But I never saw anybody. My husband and I were here all day Saturday and the dress and the sewing machines were there too. But when I came in Monday, poof! It was all gone! And this morning some girl stopped in and said she was taking occupancy this week. I don't know what she's selling. But I have no idea who was running that dress store or where they went."
It was like the end of the movie "The Usual Suspects," when Chaz Palminteri finally realizes who Kaiser Soze is and it dawns on him that he has been played for a fool. Winston was right. The dress was merely part of a hipster trap. And I was drawn into it like a mosquito to a bug zapper. There was no dress shop, no hope of wearing the dress. It was all an illusion. And the timing was too perfect. They closed up and moved out within a day of receiving my email!
I sent them one last email:
Dear Clever Dressmakers:
I understand the game now. But I still want the dress. Please, if you are considering turning it into a flag or a daishiki or whatever, consider the ultimate irony of actually giving it to me. You might see me somewhere wearing your angry hipster trap and get to mock me. I think that would square us. I am planning on wearing my triple strand of pearls with it and maybe two-toned black and white pumps? Or do you think satin ballet slippers? I promise if you give me the dress I will never again entertain thoughts of creating an uprising in the Organic Hate Machine nor will I buy their cookies. I will leave the cookies for the pure-at-heart hipsters who truly deserve them.
Kind Regards,
Dana
To date, I have received no response to either email. Game on.
~dana
