It’s All About the Dress: Lessons in Intuition and Following My Heart

When our friend Natasha asked us if it would be too “cheeky” to invite us to her wedding in London, we unhesitatingly said that we would be honored to attend. Of Indian descent and her husband-to-be Sri Lankan, they planned a week-long series of events: first a civil wedding in Leeds Castle, then Hindu and Buddhist ceremonies, and finally ending in a black tie affair complete with glittering gowns and tuxedos, or “smoking jackets” as they are called in the U.K.

Saying “Yes” was easy – getting ready, not so much. We planned to attend the Hindu and Buddhist ceremonies traditionally dressed. Natasha was kind enough to give me a beautiful shimmering blue-green sari and some fuchsia and gold material to have made into a blouse. The planning for this part went smoothly and once I went shopping with Shya for his traditional garb, we were set for the Hindu and Buddhist portion of the event, but still I needed a gown. I had no idea that finding my dress would be so challenging.

My first thought was, Max. Shya’s father Max had a factory where he made couture ball gowns and he had made several for me in the early years of our marriage. I had them stored in all their glory in our guest bedroom closet and I wondered if any would fit. Alas, the answer was no. So back the velvet and silks and tulle and lace went into their hanging bags.

Still I needed an outfit. I actually had a lovely, long slip dress with brightly colored shoes that perfectly accented it – but somehow it just felt wrong. This seemed silly. It was a perfectly good dress and no one there had seen it before, but I listened to my intuition, resolved to have it as back up, and let myself go shopping to see what else was out there.

I searched high and low, so to speak: from Neiman Marcus to TJ Maxx  with Bloomies and Macy’s in between, to no avail. A bit like Cinderella, I looked and looked, waiting for the dress that felt “just right.”

Finally, I went down to my two favorite stores near the Delaware River. One is in Frenchtown and the other is about twenty minutes away in Lambertville. Both are consignment shops where people bring their gently used, or never worn, unwanted items for resale. The Frenchtown store was a bust but I enjoyed the hunt. I had found my favorite Armani navy blue dress there the previous fall for the whopping sum of $18. But no such bargains were to be had that day. On to Lambertville and its racks of treasures.

As I entered the store, there was a line of dresses hanging on the right and I found a gold shimmery thing, which at $500 was much more than I had in mind. (But that didn’t stop me from trying it on.) On a whim, I also snagged a long salmon pink  gown that had lots of bling down the front. I noticed the pink dress still had all its tags and even the little bag of replacement jewels and sequins to replace those that went missing, so clearly it had never been worn.

The gold dress was way too big. It’s always fun to have a dress “my size” be huge. Kind of tickles my fancy. Then I tried on the other. Unzipping it, I slid it up over my hips, brought the front up and clasped it behind my neck where it was intended to catch. I zipped the back to where the zipper ended at my waist and then I realized that this was a backless dress. Turning around, I looked in the mirror.

Oh my! I had never tried something like this on. Does it look OK? Is it too…too…I don’t know…too sexy? My mind skipped into hyper drive. What will other people be wearing? Will I fit in? Will I stand out? Will I be appropriate? I opened the curtain to get the sales gal’s opinion.

“Wow!” she said. “It looks like it was made for you.”

I felt like stammering. It was beautiful, yes, and a bargain to boot, but somehow the style and fit was far outside my reality. I felt unsure.

“Can I hold this until my husband sees it? He is out fishing today,” I said.

“Of course. We can put it behind the counter until tomorrow.”

Rather quickly I removed the dress, hung it up and put back on my jeans, t-shirt and walking shoes. These were items to which I was far more accustomed than that dress that molded my shape. The woman graciously hung it with a “Hold for Ariel” sign attached and I stepped outside and down the street to have a cup of ginger tea. Within a few moments my phone started playing the Billy Joel song, “Just the Way You Are” – the ringtone I have for Shya.

“Hi Honey,” I said.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m in Lambertville. I may have found a dress for Natasha’s wedding. They’re holding it until tomorrow so I can show it to you first.”

“I just got off the river. How about I come now?”

“Perfect!”

We arranged to meet, and a half an hour later he arrived, still wearing his fishing attire: green shorts over black long johns, Crocs and t-shirt. We walked into the store and asked for the gown being held for me that was hanging behind the counter.

“Oh, you’re back!” the saleslady exclaimed.

“Yes, I wanted my husband to take a look at the dress before I bought it.”

Looking Shya in the eye, she said with a smile, “You better get a chair. You’re going to want to sit down once you see her in it!”

Shya and I made our way to the back of the store, and stepping into the fitting room, I pulled on the dress, zipped it up and hooked the straps around my neck. Before I could come out, Shya poked his head in.

He didn’t miss a beat: “We’ll take it!”

I went home that day with that salmon pink, backless evening dress with bling down the front. Over the next week, I found shoes to match, hose, got the dress hemmed, and friends helped me find a necklace and earrings to go with it. I found a pocketbook and a pashmina shawl to finalize my ensemble. Once I got all of the details in place, it felt right. Still, I found myself thinking about the event and what others would be wearing. This is unusual for me. I am not used to thinking in general as I tend to live my life directly and engage in what is in front of me rather than thinking off to the future – particularly about clothing. So, I realized that perhaps I was tuning in to the group dynamic. I noticed the phenomenon and moved on.

A few weeks later, we headed off to London where we enjoyed being included in all of the festivities. We were so happy to be there to witness our friend’s wedding celebrations.

On the night of the black tie affair, we dressed and went downstairs to the ballroom, as the event took place in the hotel where we were staying. There were at least 500 people in attendance. Wow! During the cocktail hour, prior to the sit down dinner and dancing, we got our hors d’oeuvres and a glass of soda water and stood near a window to watch the crowd. At one point a lovely couple came up and we struck up a conversation. It turns out that the woman, Alka, was Natasha’s cousin, and she was there with her husband Manish. Even though they were related to the bride, they too didn’t know very many people at the wedding. While we were chatting about their lives and about Transformation and the courses we lead, Natasha came up and said how she was happy that the four of us had met.

“Alka, you probably don’t remember this,” she said. “But when I decided to become a doctor and I graduated from med-school, you gave me my very first stethoscope. I still use it to this day!”

Sweet! Then Natasha mentioned that we were her coaches, which continued the conversation about Transformation and our courses. Shya and I invited Alka and her husband to join us and Natasha for our upcoming seminar, The Art of Being Happy. They were intrigued and in the week following the wedding, they registered for the course.

Fast forward a month and we were back in the U.K. again. We led The Art of Being Happy weekend and folks from all over the world were in attendance. It was a wonderful, rich, enlightening event and we were happy not only that Natasha was there, but also that Alka and Manish could be there as well. After the course drew to a close, we chatted with folks before they all scattered to the four winds. Alka and Manish approached us to say goodbye.

“Thank you for everything,” she said. “We are so happy we came” she continued, she and Manish both beaming..“You probably don’t know this, but we came here this weekend because of your dress!”

What? I thought. 

She continued,“Remember when we met at the wedding? Manish and I didn’t know very many people there that night. So, to entertain ourselves we played a game: If I could have any dress, which one would it be? So we picked out the ones we liked the most and yours was the dress that caught our eye! We wandered over to get a closer look and you struck up a conversation. Little did we know that your dress would lead us here!

Ah-ha – Now I get it! I thought.

In that moment, the mystery of the dress unraveled. Searching for it, buying it, getting it ready and ultimately wearing it had seemed like such a strange, long road, but it was a journey I had trusted even though I didn’t know where the road was leading. This seemingly frivolous investment of time and energy was now paying profound dividends. As Shya and I looked at the glowing faces of this lovely couple, I felt happy – happy to be there in that moment and happy I had been willing to trust my intuition and follow my heart.