laura k bray

  This is a dress that was bought in a 1980s, Gunne Sax outlet that was tucked into a rundown strip mall in downtown Montclair, California. A store where the dressing room was one, big open room and my 15-year-old self thought she might die of embarrassment undressing in front of other women. This is a dress that was worn to one or two of the six formals I went to in high school. On the arm of boys named Tom and Jeff. Boys I dreamed of making a life with one day. Boys I am so glad I didn’t marry. Boys that were kind and handsome and sometimes thoughtless and hurtful. Boys that put up with the same from me. This is a dress that danced to the music of The Cure and Depeche Mode . In gyms that reeked of sweat, hormones, Obsession perfume, and Polo cologne. A dress that rustled when I walked and felt smooth under the tentative hands of teenage boys as they held me during slow dances. A dress that made my girlfriends squeal in delight, as I did the same for them and their dresses. ...