The Girl with the Pearl Ring

Photo by Courtney G.

Photo by Courtney G.

This weekend my roommate invited me to go the eighth annual Red Dress Gala, a local fundraiser for heart disease.  The theme was a black and white ’20s era design, reminiscent of The Great Gatsby.  I was more than happy to take her sister’s usual place at the table and get to wear costume jewelry and pearls to accent my little black dress.  The poor thing hasn’t seen much use in the past year.

Of course, I would have rather worn my floor-length red sheath dress with the rhinestone straps and matching the broach strategically centered to be the focal point of my bodice.  Sadly, though it last fit five years ago, the dress I once wore to my senior prom proved to be a few inches too small when I tried it on for size last week.  I would have felt a bit more like one of Gatsby’s crowd in it, but I guess after adding the glamor and flash of the accessories, I made a suitable Daisy Buchanan, or more preferably a Jordan Baker.

The gala was held in the student union at my University, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, never having gone before.  Happily, the cover band Everyday Life was great!  It seemed they were playing my song all night. They even played “Amarillo by Morning” with an added sax part that sounded pretty nice, and if they could cover King George and get my approval, then they were doing great.

The food was tasty, too, but no matter how hard I looked in the crowd on the dance floor, I could never seem to find anyone resembling a young Robert Redford or a Leonardo DiCaprio, though there were quite a few lovely evening gowns and three-piece suits out there twisting and twirling.  Still, all was not a loss.  I did come home with a new bracelet I won at the silent auction.  It’s made of several shades of blue and turquoise cultured pearls strung onto a wire that wraps around my wrist and hold its shape instead of fastening.  It was donated by a jeweler in town, and I managed to get it for less than half price.  So even though I went home sans my own naïvely romantic man who still hasn’t given up on the green light in the distance, I didn’t return empty-handed.  After all, it could have ended rather badly, involving a swimming pool or a yellow roadster, but we won’t go there.

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