Little Black Dress

When I was 18 years old I worked in downtown Boston at one of the most well known clothing stores in the city. Because we were so centrally located and right on a transit stop, we were never at a loss for customers. In the dresses and suits department, we were bombarded with people; mostly women who would come in on their lunch hour from their high powered city jobs. They needed to dress professionally and this store supplied the demand. Our clientele was as diverse as the merchandise.

We had an eclectic selection; pant suits, bohemian dresses, simpler sportswear, and even samples from the top New York designers’ runway shows. Annually, we would have a one day wedding dress sale that usually attracted the local news stations because it was such a momentous event. People would line up at the doors hours and hours before opening, to grab everything they could off the racks. Women would change clothes in the middle of the store because actually getting into the fitting room seemed like a farce.

I even witnessed women assaulting one another over a particular gown!

Because our selections were so diverse and sales were never at a lull, the store had a unique way to move merchandise off the floor. Every piece of clothing was dated on the tag before it hit the rack. There was a six week “shelf life” on each item. For the first two weeks, it remained the original price (although it was usually lower than standard retail). On week three, it was marked down 25 per cent, on week four 50 per cent, on week five 75 per cent and then on week six, the item was donated to charity. So even if you knew that a piece of clothing was going to be marked down, you never knew if it would be there the next day.

Being in women’s clothing when I was single and living at home was like every girl’s dream. One of the perks of working at this particular store was that they gave their employees a generous 25 per cent discount. Another was that I was about a two minute walk from a Franciscan church that had masses every half hour. I could easily take a break and get to daily Mass and confessions were heard all day long. Recently having had a conversion experience, I spent my day deep in conversational prayer getting to know my Lord. My duty was recovery (replacing merchandise to its proper place). Recovery was constant in this store. You spent practically all day straightening out the racks and racks of clothing. It was the easiest way to shop or pray while working. You became so familiar with the merchandise that anything new stood out as obvious. Practically every one of my paychecks was spent building a fantastic wardrobe. I bought designer suits and sample dresses for pennies on the dollar. This came in very handy a couple of years later when I worked at an investment firm with a very strict dress code. Even then, God was planting seeds and I was unaware of His providence. Looking back, I see His hand weaving small threads in my life’s tapestry. On one particular occasion, I was very aware of His presence in my life.

It was a Wednesday afternoon in early fall. The exclusive dresses (which is what we called the higher end samples) usually came in from designer’s studios and there were only one or maybe two of a particular style. They were rare and they were usually only made in size four. Many moons ago and before six children, I was a size four. That’s when I saw it. Among the exclusive dresses was the perfect dress. I had to have this dress. It was just right, not too long, not too short, beautiful lines, wonderful fabric, dress it up or down – it was like the Holy Grail, a staple, a perfect foundation piece for any women’s wardrobe. I looked at the tag. The next day it was due for a 75 per cent markdown. With my employee discount on top of that, I could easily afford it. I would wait. That was a risk I was willing to take. Despite my recent conversion, I still had worldly vices. I took the dress and stashed it in a rack where it didn’t belong. I put it with the larger sizes in casual clothing. It would easily last a day there. It was safe from any other consumer.

The next day I went to retrieve my treasure. It was gone. I frantically searched the rack. Not in sight. I went back to the exclusive rack. It was nowhere to be found. Perhaps another employee moved it. I spent the better part of an afternoon, tirelessly hunting down that dress. I ignored my duties in search of vanity. Nothing. I knew that no other dress like that one was ever going to come along. Not one I could ever afford anyway. Besides, this was my dress, I had claimed it and I was angry. A gentle voice came to me and asked “Why do you hold a mere possession so dearly?” “Would you be as angry or hurt if you were in danger of losing me?” It was then I realized that I took my gift of faith for granted. I had been given a truly priceless, rare gift by God, but I did not fear anyone taking it from me or losing it. I responded in prayer “But Lord, you know how much I wanted that dress. It was perfect!” He softly said “Then how much more it would mean, if you could let it go as a gift to me.” My heart swelled and my anger melted as I released the dress as an offering to Him. I had been wrong to hide it, dishonest and disloyal to my employer. I went about my duties for the rest of the day and went home.

I rose at sunlight and reported to work before opening and starting pulling the dresses that needed to be marked down. The repetitive scrape of the hangers on poles made for a rhythmic morning. I was determined to work twice as hard today in reparation of wasting time the day before. On the casual rack I went about my business and literally exactly where I had put it two days prior, was the black dress! I had searched that rack a dozen times the day before and it was not there. How it ended up precisely where I had left it is beyond explanation. I was moved to tears as I considered what a surprise I was being given. It reminded me of the Gospel story of the rich man and Lazarus. Jesus tells us that a rich man and a poor man, Lazarus both die. While the poor man is sitting with Father Abraham, the rich man is in the unquenchable fire. He asks to go back to warn his brothers that they will share his fate if they do not change their way. He is denied the request because a warning would not change their hearts. Later in Luke’s gospel we are shown that our Lord did still grant the wish of raising someone from the dead and that man happens to be named Lazarus. We are given what we want even when we really don’t deserve it. That is how much God loves us.

With sheer joy I picked up the dress, felt its fabric against my skin, held it up to my figure in the full length mirror and admired its beauty. I imagined all the events I could wear it to and the compliments I would receive. Then I promptly hung it up on the exclusive rack where it belonged. Over the years I’ve gotten more wear from that lesson than the dress could have ever provided. No matter how perfect it was, it was not as perfect as His gift of love.