Finding an Easter dress in Eastern Kentucky in the 1980s was nearly impossible. In Hazard, where I lived, we had one clothing store that carried children’s clothing…Tots and Teens. Ugh. Their merchandise was overpriced, and the sales associates dressed as if every day were Easter Sunday. I dreaded shopping there.
One of the sales associates was about my height when I was twelve and weighed less than I did. Her nails were polished a bright poppy red, and a stack of rings clicked against the cash register keys when she rang up purchases. Her jet-black hair was coiffed into stiff compliance with Aqua Net, and she wore houndstooth skirt suits and black patent leather pumps. Despite our similar heights, I thought she looked down on me. She knew we were not regular customers, and she knew that one Easter dress would be all we could afford.
My mom and I, with my younger sister in tow, entered the store under duress. I had complained the entire way from our house to town. My little sister complained, too. She was four years younger than me and destined to wear one of my old dresses. I wasn’t sure why she was complaining. The Easter dresses had only been worn once.
“They’re hateful and snobbish,” I said, referring to the sales staff.
“It’s just the way they are,” my mom said. “They don’t mean anything by it. We’ll just go in, get a dress, and be done.” My mom, the optimist.
It was never that easy. Upon entering the shop, a little bell over the door chimed, and the nearest sales associate descended upon us. Some were more bearable than others, but every one of them gave off an air of superiority. I imagined they hated wasting their time with us when many of the richer families in town could afford to fill a shopping bag.
Instead of doors, the openings of the dressing room stalls were draped in heavy, blue velvet curtains. A sales associate stood right outside those curtains, arms crossed. Did she think I was going to wad up the frilly Easter dress and cram it beneath my wash-worn t-shirt? I didn’t even like the dresses. Why would I want to steal one?
“Come out and let’s have a look,” she’d say in a tone that left me no choice. I slumped out and stood before the three-way mirror. The dresses never looked or fit right, and to this day I shudder when a sales associate follows me to the dressing room. My least favorite sales associate was usually the one who assisted us. She’d glance at me in the dress, judging my poor posture and my ratty Keds, and then she’d suggest the next size up or another style all together. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Even on Easter Sunday, wearing the dress, I carried with me the uneasy feeling that I wasn’t good enough or rich enough or thin enough to be wearing it. The dress was ruined before we paid for it.
Those shopping trips were uncomfortable, and I would never want to relive them; but maybe through those experiences I learned what not to do and how not to be. Perhaps those Easter dresses taught me a thing or two about how important it is to make others feel welcome, and how to boost them up instead of tear them down.
12 responses to “Easter Dresses”
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You truly brought me right into the setting. Your details about the sales associate (how do you remember?) are so vivid, I could easily paint that picture in my head. You capture clearly the emotions that those moments held for you (and still do). I love the way you turned this annual difficult shopping trip into a positive take-away.
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Thanks, Jodi! I sometimes forget where I put my keys, but I can remember some moments from my childhood as clearly as if they occurred yesterday. My childhood was mostly wonderful; so most of those clear memories are like little gifts from the past.
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This reminds me of the scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian (Julia Roberts) goes into a dress shop to buy something and the clerks look at her and treat her with distain. It is a shame that what should have been an enjoyable experience for you was not.
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Yes! When I was writing this slice, I also thought about that scene. I guess uppity sales clerks in high-end shops are not all that unusual.
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“The dress was ruined before we paid for it.” What a powerful story, vividly described. I could see that horrible associate with her hair “coiffed into stiff compliance with Aqua Net” – I feel like I know her from my childhood in South Carolina. These days, I also feel for your mother; she must have worked hard to keep her chin up and try to tell her girls that you were every bit as good as those snooty women. I’m glad you’ve taken a positive lesson from your memory, but – oof – I’m sorry you lived it.
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Thank you, Amanda! My mom is such a sweet and humble person. She often tells the story from her childhood of wearing a second-hand dress passed to her from a classmate’s mother. My mom was so proud of that dress until the classmate pointed out, in front of other children, that my mom was wearing one of her old dresses. Maybe that’s one reason we endured the dreadful shopping trips…so I could wear something right off the rack.
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This slice makes me sad and mad. My first career was retail, and I would have never acted like this sales associate. I also live in a small town, so shopping choices are limited. You would think she would have been grateful, not hateful. I did laugh at the Aqua Net! IYKYK
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Thanks, Leigh Anne! She definitely had quite the attitude; and she worked there for years. I was very happy when I outgrew Tots and Teens.
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Lori,
This post conjures up some Easter dress experiences I’d rather forget, and some more recent shopping experiences that now define what I will and will not tolerate when shopping. Since 1989 I’ve been speaking up when I feel mistreated by sales associates. I have many stories because I live in a predominately LDS community where the price of admission is often membership in “the church.” I love how you ended this post w/ how such experiences can define our behavior toward others.-
Thanks, Glenda! When I first started writing this slice, I thought it might be kind of funny; but the more I wrote, the more I realized it was a really sad experience for me as a child. I felt like I needed to honor that. To this day, I’m wary of trying on clothes in stores, especially if I sense any pushiness or condescension on behalf of the salesclerk.
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Oh, how I have those flashbacks to Easter dress. When I was way younger, my mother made us matching ones. As I grew up, we had a place we went for dresses, and much like what you describe – a shop where the choices were limited and the sales associates seemed to belong to an exclusive club. I’m glad that nowadays, I pretty much wear a solid color of pants and dress them up or down with blouses or casual shirts. You certainly bring back the memories and share your takeaways!
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Thanks, Kim! One has to wonder what type of job interview process resulted in those cliquish sales personnel…or maybe they joined forces once they were all hired? Anyway, it doesn’t seem to be uncommon.
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