I blogged a few days ago about the wedding that took place under the great oaks at the historic county courthouse. I even put in a picture of the gorgeous bride and handsome groom. I didn't put in a picture of myself, you are probably happy to know.
I will tell you I wore my "vintage" dress, though.
I keep most of my clothes until they become ragged so I have quite a few old dresses. One Thanksgiving when we were alone, I wore this particular one out to a nice restaurant. This well-dressed couple finished before us and as they walked by our table, the gentleman stopped. "I have to tell you I just love your dress. Is it a vintage?"
I started to deny it hotly, then realized: 1) It wasn't new. 2) He wasn't being facetious. 3) "Vintage" sounded a whole lot better than "Uh, no, I've just had it for years."
So I smiled graciously and said, "Yes. Yes, it is."
After his wife chirped her admiration, too, and they left, I started eating again. "Imagine that," I told my guy. "Vintage. Why, that means it had to be made in the..."
I counted back to when I'd got it and realized the awful truth. It was indeed vintage.
I feel so old. But at least when I wear it for special occasions, I know at least one couple thinks it's stylish.