Sarah's story
The Dress 3 – cat
I knew it would be one of those nights—one of those days and nights—as soon as I saw the postman at the door. My mistress was all excited as she took the package, and she rushed upstairs to open it. Out tumbled a long soft dress, velvet they call it, and she gazed at it enthralled. Then she tried it on, looking at herself backwards and forwards with great satisfaction. It was clear she was mad about that dress. How humans can get so excited about the things they put on themselves is a mystery to me. It seems such a waste of time. But I knew something was up, I’d seen it before.
And sure enough, she never sat down for the rest of the day, never stopped to stroke my fur—she barely remembered to give me my dinner, and me in the state I’m in! Waltzing around, rummaging in her drawers for this and that, showering, washing and drying her hair, she was activity itself. She did sit down once, for over half an hour, but there was no chance of my hopping onto her lap—she was too busy with creams and pencils and powders, making up her face, fixing her hair. And then she got into the dress and paraded around a bit more, and finally she went out—as I knew she would.
So there I was alone in the house, as night came on, not that that really bothers me, as I can see in the dark. It’s the absence of activity, the absence of presence that gets me down. Whenever she leaves I’m afraid she is not coming back. That actually happens sometimes, and the absence can go on for a week or more, though at such moments there is a machine that feeds me. So food is not the problem. It’s the company and the attention that I miss. This time, however, I had some hope, as she didn’t pack a suitcase.
And indeed, she came back, but late, very late. That I know because the street lamps were all out. She looked and sounded quite happy, in fact she was singing, and though she wasn’t walking very steadily, she got upstairs all right. She waltzed around a few more times, took off the dress and kissed it—can you believe that? She kissed the dress but she didn’t have the least caress for me. Then she got more or less undressed, stumbling about the room, threw the dress onto the armchair and fell into bed, where she began to sleep happily, that is, she began to snore. The noise didn’t bother me, I was glad to have her back, and besides I purr a lot myself. So I settled on her stomach and curled myself up; I needed the warmth and comfort, especially right now.
But as morning dawns, I begin to feel the urgency. Yes, the time has come. I can’t stay here, on her, on the bed in plain view. I need a secluded spot. I jump down and look around. Aha! The dress has fallen off down behind the armchair. A perfect spot: hidden away, out of sight and, hopefully, hearing. When I get there and bed down on the dress, it’s just as warm and soft and cosy as I knew it would be! And just in time. I can feel the kits getting more and more restless, the first is ready to come out. I couldn't have found a better place to have my kittens!
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Annemarie's story
'A Dress
2025 - and this was going to be a particularly special year for Geraldine; a noteworthy birthday and anniversary and what tickled her most, she had been invited to a conference hosted by the Apprentis d'Auteuil Foundation because her previous work had been as director of Mission Locale, working with young people. She was somewhat nervous about that but she wouldn't think about it now; she was much more excited about seeing all her family - sons, their wives and grandchildren, some not seen for years.
Plant pots prepared with a multitude of bulbs before Christmas were placed around the house and garden; the dress was being made by her friend; a complete surprise and she would only see it the day before her party. How she loved surprises!
The pots were full of tulips and spring flowers in an explosion of rainbow colours Friends had offered to bring a cake or salad and the roast had been organised. She even had time to spend a few days attending the Scrabble competition and have a holiday in Réunion with family. The only fly in the ointment of her happiness was the conference in two days. Her slight concern was that it was many years since her retirement and sometimes she didn't always understand an accent or she forgot an English word. She shrugged her shoulders - not to worry, she would cope as always.
And today her friend was coming with the dress. Everything else was prepared for tomorrow's party: beds were made, serried rows of glasses, towering mounds of plates (not paper), the garden a glowing mass of tulips, crocus, hyacinth and narcissi parading before the view of distant hills. Just her surprise dress; Geraldine still had no idea what it was like. Had she really agreed to it - unseen - the day before the party? Eager anticipation swamped slight trepidation.
She heard the clang of the front door bell. Ah, there she was. Her friend came in looking quite pleased with herself... but she was carrying a rather small bag. Geraldine was obviously going to have to wait for the surprise. She popped open the crémant and poured it fizzing into the glasses and passed one to her friend.
"A toast to you, Geraldine,"proposed her friend, "astonishing what you've achieved in your eight decades and still you're in demand," she exclaimed admiringly as she raised her glass and drank.
" Now I will be quick" her friend said "because you have so much to do before tomorrow and I know it's quite some time since you worked so I've written down the finer points; you can peruse them at your leisure.
The skill of communication lies not only in the content of your message but also in how you deliver it.
When addressing people at a conference, acknowledge special guests.
3 . Introduce the main theme, refer to individuals by name, and stay engaged by respondi..."
"Just a minute, " interrupted Geraldine, "what are you on about? Shall we just get straight to the dress- I'm dying to see it and try it on. You've hidden it outside, haven't you?"
"Uh? What dress? I thought you'd asked me to give you help with the address you have to make at the youth conference in a couple of days...Oh my goodness...what do you mean by a dress? "
When her friend left Geraldine glanced down at oh-so-helpful sheet of paper left lying on the coffee table; it was certainly not going to cover any part of her body tomorrow; then her eyes alighted on the final point
5. The core objective is to encourage understanding. Good luck, Geraldine!________________________
Paula's story
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Molly gathered her courage and her self-respect, and left her marriage. After more than 30 years, it was a leave-taking of some import. But she had had enough of walking on eggshells in her own home, of realizing she was no longer truly loved, of knowing she deserved better.
The evening she moved into a tiny apartment all her own, she had a stern talk with herself: You will probably be alone for the rest of your life, she told herself. And that’s ok. You will always have your family, and your friends, but at 55, it’s a pretty good bet no Prince Charming is going to come along.
And then, two years later, he did.
He turned out to be a man she had worked with for years, a friend of long standing, a guy she had always thought of as kind of a younger brother: sharp-witted, smart, fun to hang out with. But romance? Nah. Until unexpectedly, to her at least, a spark kindled. And suddenly it was perfect.
Ben wanted to get married right away. A man of grand gestures, he declared: We’ll fly to Paris and be wed! Molly was charmed, but she was also worried about the loss of her health insurance, after leaving her job to work as a freelancer. The decision was made to be married as soon as possible, so Molly could be added to Ben’s insurance through work. Not very romantic, but necessary.
Wedding Number One (the secret one):
September, 2006. Cape Cod, Massachusetts. A visit to Molly’s college roommate and her husband, the maid of honor and best man to be. A marriage license obtained from the local county commissioner. The dress: a beaded, cap-sleeved, knee-length sheath in shades of beige and silver, found on sale at a local department store. The venue: the grounds of a fabled lighthouse on the coast, officiated by a justice of the peace.
In the hour before the ceremony, the four friends walked to a restaurant where they ordered a bottle of Champagne to celebrate the upcoming nuptials. And that’s when Molly got a frantic phone call from her older sister: their mother had had an aneurysm, and was dying. Molly stood unsteadily on the dock of the seaside restaurant, Ben tight to one side of her and her dear friend Laurie on the other, her phone pressed to her ear as the neurologist told her and her three siblings that their mother was gone. “Do you want to go through with this?” Ben and Laurie both asked, gently. Molly didn’t hesitate. “It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
Wedding Number Two (the official one):
April, 2007. Fremantle, Australia. A ceremony at the home of Ben’s high school pal Bill and his partner Sean. The dress: the beaded, cap-sleeved, knee-length sheath in shades of beige and silver. The venue: A deck overlooking the Indian Ocean. Ben’s three sons and Molly’s favorite aunt traveled around the globe to be there. Molly and Ben wrote their vows, which had been kept from each other, yet turned out to be eerily similar. The house was filled with food, and drink, and flowers, and Australian friends. The party went on into the wee hours of the morning.
Wedding Number Three (the re-creation for family):
June, 2007. New Orleans, Louisiana. A celebration for family who were unable — or unwilling — to travel to Australia, including Molly’s three siblings, her nieces and nephews, and Ben’s sister, officiated by a dear friend of Molly and Ben’s. The dress: You guessed it. The beaded, cap-sleeved, knee-length sheath in shades of beige and silver. The venue: the lush back garden of Molly’s oldest sister. The vows were repeated, tears were shed, laughs were had, a candlelight dinner on the back porch was magical.
Years went by, and the dress, now sheathed in protective fabric, hung at the back of Molly’s closet. There would be no need for a fourth wedding. Life was good.
April, 2046. Epernay, France. A solemn procession, followed by a subdued meal full of memories and tears. The dress: a beaded, cap-sleeved, knee-length sheath in shades of beige and silver. The venue: A small, tree-shaded cemetery. Molly, bravely greeting her guests and not so bravely wishing she were in Ben’s place.
When she returned, alone, to the little stone cottage full of so many reminders of a beautiful life together, she shed the dress and hid it away. She knew she would never wear it again.
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Jackie's story
The fight was fierce – tension had been building for months. Arguments about where to go on holiday – who to invite for dinner and what to wear what to eat, what to do at weekends, - where was he ?– why did he come home so late – played bridge till 4 am – who with? what was he doing – lipstick on the collar- credit card notices in pockets –jewelry bills for things I hadn’t received like necklaces, rings and a very expensive watch.
Yes, I was living in his apartment – I had moved in a few years ago – at the beginning all hunky dory and loving and you know what its like those first few years of new love Shopping and presents, wonderful clothes I couldn’t really afford myself, diners and flowers, surprises, and admiration.
Bit by bit it changed and all that I described in the above became more and more frequent - I had felt ignored for quite a while - he hadn’t tried to hide the evidence it was if he wanted it to happen – he needed to reassure himself before …
He threw me out – gave me a few days to clear my things at least
So I had to move and it cost me a lot as his apartment was very special – lots of light and sunshine almost all day. Overlooking the Eiffel tower and the river Seine flowing below. 5 minutes to the best shops in town. I loved living there and it was very comfortable A bliss of a place to live.
I found somewhere else to live though, in a rough area in the North of Paris – the landlord hadn’t repainted or repaired for years and the previous tenant had left pile of rubbish as a present for me to clear up. I managed though, got a job in Monoprix and convinced myself that the few years before had been a dream life and I was lucky to have had that experience.
One morning though as I was looking for something to wear - I remembered with horror that some of my summer clothes had been stored away in a trunk for the winter months in his apartment . I had forgotten them in my haste to get away. Would I dare go to the apartment and ask for them back? It took quite a lot of courage and finally after weeks of building up the nerve to do so I presented myself one morning at the old apartment. The concierge let me in to the block and I climbed the three flights of stairs . I rang the bell of his apartment praying out loud and hoping that there would be no one in– to my horror this woman/girl/fiend/catfish faced monster opened the door.
A few years younger than myself – black eyes, flicking back her bleached blond hair over her shoulder with scarlet nails 3cm long at least and very high heels – wearing – would I believe my eyes - yes, my very own dress. I recognized it immediately as it had special pink pearly buttons down the front. I had picked the buttons up in a brocante a long while ago and waited for the right dress to sew them on. As I was catching my then furious breath, I noticed that one of the buttons was almost loose and the threads were hanging down. If she was to wear my dress then at least take good care of it. But no I couldn’t let this pass I must have the dress back and I wouldn’t back down. She must have recognized me as she tried to shut the door in my face but I had a foot in the door and then this is what I did…..
And this is where you come in dear friends
Please write down what you think you would do in this situation.
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