Black Tie Optional

Guys just don't get it. For them, the words, "black tie" means one thing: go rent a tux. For us, it means: Red alert! Danger Will Robinson!

So when we received an invitation a few weeks ago for a formal affair this week, Tim shrugged and grumbled about having to clip on the tie (poor thing, how will he survive?) while I went into complete panic mode.

The dress, the shoes, the accessories, the dress.

And so it began. Tim, who can spend endless hours deciding bewteen a blue tie with red and yellow stripes or a blue tie with yellow and red stripes suddenly can't tell the difference between basic black and pink leopard print with sequins.

"What do you think of this?" I ask, holding up sample number one.

"Um...okay," he offers, glancing longingly at the nearest exit.

"Or, how about this one?" I press, holding up sample number two.

"Yeah. Whatever." He inches toward the door, but I'm not letting him off the hook that easily. I believe he promised for better or for worse???

"What about this?" I hold up yet another dress.

"Uh, no, it doesn't make you look fat." Nice try, but you're supposed to wait until I have it on to say that! Since he has decided to be about as useful as a parka in July, I decide to let him escape to Sharper Image, and look elsewhere for guidance...my blackberry.

After e-mailing and/or calling everyone else I know who is attending, I am in no better shape. Apparently. they also have "nothing to wear" and no ideas. Great. So basically, if the invitation said, "clothing optional," we'd all be set.

What to choose? The more I looked, the more confused and discouraged I became. Shop after shop, it seemed as though the "formal wear" was falling into four basic categories: Victoria Secrets model (six inches of fabric streched to cover considerably more real estate), Vegas showgirl (six inches of fabric covered with sequins, and/or beads, and/or cubic zirconia), Princess (before model: ragged hems and necklines that looked like Cinderella's mice had been gnawing on them, or the after model: big pouffy taffeta --enough said), and last, but not least...Grandma (lots of loosefitting knit "separates" that cover you from chin to toe).

I quickly learned not to turn to the salespeople for help since they apparently all work on commission. Skirt doesn't fit? Roll it over at the waist. I don't think so. Jacket too roomy? Buy a padded bra (or perhaps I should just stuff two grapefruits in there and be done with it.). One size too big, the next too small? Choose the smaller one. You can hold your breath for five or six hours right? (At least I think that's what she was saying, butI think I may have passed out for a minute or two there.). The front looks great. See? No,no, don't turn around. Take my word for it. The back looks fabulous!

Right.

In the end, I found there was really only one choice after all...the basic black dress, (literally, there was only one ) , and when I put it on tomorrow night, Tim had better tell me that it doesn't make me look fat!