It Could Happen to You!

Mishap No. 15 from Cindy: This story began with Harriett Gibbe. I work with a group of women who are professional organizers. We got together with Harriett thinking that there would be great chemistry between our closet organizing skills and her image/fashion consulting business. I am 52 and have always dressed a bit conservatively, especially trying to cover some extra pounds that I need to lose. Harriett took us all shopping to give us tips on what type of clothes each of us should buy according to our personalities ( she really is fabulous at discerning what your tastes are and how to dress to express those tastes ). My hook in the dressing room quickly filled up with several low cut blouses. "Celebrate your cleavage!" Harriett said. So I made the bold move to buy a few of these blouses - determined to step into this century.

The real story is in the first time I wore one of these darling tops. This is a great little sleeveless crossover with an empire waistline. It's black and I wore white cropped pants and beaded sandals, all very put together for me. People were telling me how nice I looked and my husband even mentioned that I seemed to be getting a lot of attention from the men at the party. I felt on top of the world even if I was a little self-conscious.

Then, as I was addressing a group of folks out on the patio I noticed that several people were suddenly not looking me in the face anymore. I looked down and a good-sized moth was crawling up from inside the front of my blouse, then flying off to freedom in the lights overhead. I looked at my friends and said "I guess that's what happens when you finally take your cleavage out of the closet and show it off---the moths fly out!"

PS. I'm still wearing the low cut blouses and loving it! Thanks Harriett.

The wedding ceremony was lovely and we adjourned to the ballroom for a buffet dinner. Ex-boyfriend was not there, someone said his flight was delayed, which was just as well as far as I was concerned. As I sat there making chit-chat at the table, I felt my body shaper inching its way down my (very small) bosom. When our table stood up to go through the buffet line, I felt the entire top of the body shaper fall down below my chest. I now had a thick, lumpy roll around my ribcage and under my stretchy dress. I excused myself and had to make my way across the ballroom to get to the ladies room. It was clear that there was no way the body shaper was going to stay up, and I risked having it pull down the entire top of the dress. So I took it off, then stood there in the tiny powder room with this massive body shaper in my right hand, and my tiny black clutch purse in my left hand. I decided to take the body shaper out to my car and leave it there. As I walked across the parking lot, who did I run into but my ex-boyfriend with his new, gorgeous, girlfriend. When we were introduced I had to put the body-shaper into my other hand to shake hands. I was mortified. But I went back in and had a good time anyhow!

Nudity sells, but that's NOT what I had in mind! Everyone began laughing and pointing at my feet. Slowly and painfully I looked down and saw my plaid pleated red and gray skirt hovering over my pumps. Can anyone relate to a tight waistband? The button and buttonhole struggled to reach each other that morning. This union was tenuous at best, until I sneezed during the introduction of my presentation. That button was history.

You give three speeches every time you open your mouth-the one you prepared, the one you give, and the perfect one going home in the car. The perfect comment at this miserable moment, said to my steering wheel much later was, "You certainly got more than you paid for!" The naked truth is that I was wearing a slip.

Mishap No. 6 from Harriet: I had a fabulous Oscar de la Renta vintage silk shantung , full length, black strapless gown. It had a very fitted bodice and full skirt with a built in taffeta petticoat.

It had been patiently waiting to come out of my closet to play at the right soiree. I had in mind something elegant, evening and congregated by lots of other ballgown wearing types. When some very dear friends invited me and my spouse to a fundraising black tie gala, I jumped at the chance to bring my Oscar gown out of the closet. I assumed that we were in for an evening of dinner dancing and champagne.

I arrived home and pulled together my “ball gown “ look, hair in an updo, husband in a tux, feet in sexy shoes. Off we ran to the Chantilly Ballroom, home to every major ball in the city of Dallas. As we arrived and realized there were no valets to park our car, my inner  “danger ahead” lights began to glow. NO valets for a ballroom that holds up to 1,500 celebratory people?

The check -in was further evidence I had miscalculatd the dress code for my friends invitation to a black tie fundraiser. Did I mention my dear friends are very casual dressers? As I glanced around the check-in table, my husband was in the only tux I saw and I was in the only black silk dress, long, short or strapless.

The event was for Mercy Ships and this was a fundraiser to collect money for the work this important emergency medical ship delivers to third world countries around the globe. People there were dressed in khakis, panchos, broom skirts and golf shirts.

Maybe people will think we were just making a mercy stop to deliver some money to this charity on our way to the ball we obviously were dressed for. But what about my friends with a two empty chairs at their expensive table? Dare I stay the night and extend the agony of being dressed for an entirely different party planet than 1,100 other people? I finally gave in to my need to be a member of the team regardless of how the team showed up to play and sat down with my friends at their table for the next three hours. Me in my Oscar and my spouse in his Armani.

That was ten years ago and my dear friends never said a word. Since then we have traveled to third world countries together and founded our own non-profit called the Dallas Haiti Project. Someday we’ll have to have our own black tie fundraisier and you are all invited. Wear whatever you like, we’ll just be glad you are there.

Mishap No. 1 from Tamara: When Mark and I were still dating, we were invited to a fancy charity ball. I was living in California at the time, so I flew to Dallas to attend the event, bringing my dress and all my accessories. We stopped to pick up some friends on the way. As I was walking out the door of their house, my heel caught on the edge of the door frame and I fell, shredding one leg of my hose - black hose. I ended up borrowing a pair from our friend, who is not only several inches taller than me, but was pregnant at the time. Needless to say, it was a challenge keeping the nylons up and looking decent all night. I didn't do much dancing, but the event was fun and memorable.