Searching for the Perfect “Mother of” Party Dress

I knew the hunt for the perfect dress for my son’s spring wedding would be rough. I wanted to find a dress with pizazz that showed off my assets (but not too much) while hiding my waistline and telegraphing the dignity of my position. I didn’t want a dress that screamed, “Look at me,” but something subtler. A dress that whispered, “I know I still got it. Watch as I dance a hora in high heels.”

I decided to head to the major stores, where I imagined I would touch, feel and try on slews of pretty dresses. But it turns out that in-store shopping is not the fun it once was. Not only is stock low, it is virtually non-existent in Los Angeles for women past a certain age. Everything is either too bare, too short, or too show-biz. Still, I persisted.

My first stop was Saks. After ricocheting around the store, I approached a mature salesperson and bluntly asked, “Where can I shop in this store with my current body?” After a quick appraisal she told me that two brands were possibilities and that evening wear departments no longer exist. Wandering in the wrong direction, I was quickly intercepted. “Don’t bother,” another saleswoman said. “These dresses don’t come in your size.” Ouch.

Then I remembered an article I recently read in The New York Times. It reported that upscale fashion brands prefer not to dress women over size 2, thereby eliminating most humans, including me—a mortal who hovers between a 10 and 12. “Major players in the fashion industry still choose to exclude women whose bodies are inconsistent with the brand image they want to cultivate,” reported Dr. Renee Engeln, director of the Body & Media Lab at Northwestern. Even in the times of Lizzo, extreme thinness is a fantasy that sells.

Even in the times of Lizzo, extreme thinness is a fantasy that sells.

Was I naïve to think that I could find a dress that would make me feel beautiful at my age? Even my gentle salesperson at Nordstrom, my next stop, agreed that it would be a challenge. “So many women come here looking for a special occasion dress for birthdays or weddings. They come in because they want to try on, but the buyers just order a size or two. We can order other sizes for you online.” “So can I,” I thought, feeling deflated.

By the time I pulled into Bloomingdales I was willing to try on anything that fit over my head and zipped up. An Israeli-American salesperson in tennis shoes smelled my desperation. She had the chutzpah to pose the eternal question, “Are you willing to go sleeveless?” before tearing through the store like a fighter pilot.

The woman wasn’t a quitter. She brought to the dressing room a neon blue dress with three tiers of ballooning ruffles, a long-sleeved wrap dress in a loud tropical print, a daring low cut purple jumpsuit, and a sparkling French black and gold column. She even showed me dresses at deep discounts. Out of respect, I tried on everything. But no luck. I left the store that day with a giant headache, not a dress.

Driving home I realized that while staring at my reflection so intensely, I had lost sight of who I am. I am not a pop star picking up a Grammy. I’m an accomplished woman who is marrying off her beloved youngest son. At his wedding, I will be standing in front of friends and family who have all come to wish the couple well—not to scrutinize my tummy.

Once I realized that no dress would transform me into my younger, thinner self, I took a deep breath. I returned to the first dress I had tried on months ago—a knee-length sleeveless black sheath, with tiny pleats and an asymmetrical transparent cover-up that performed magic on my midsection. Now all I need are some dazzling accessories. I’m hoping to find them online.

To follow-up: The week after the story about high fashion’s refusal to make a wide range of sizes, the Times had an article in its style section about a new website. It’s called “Mother of” and it curates party dresses while offering a network for women who are struggling to find the right dress for a child’s wedding. Sisterhood survives!

Los Angeles food writer Helene Siegel is the author of 40 cookbooks, including the “Totally Cookbook” series and “Pure Chocolate.” She runs the Pastry Session blog.