In the life of any traditional Latina,
there are two important dates. One is the day she walks down the
aisle dressed in white and the other day she becomes a young woman at
the age of fifteen. My Quinceañera was no exception, but what I
didn't anticipate was all the drama. Planning a Quinceañera is not
an easy task. Before the huge celebration, there are tons of
planning, cooking and errands to run.
It was a Saturday morning, and the
entire neighborhood was dotted with yard sales. “What color did you
have in mind for your dress?” my mother asked while she stirred the
pancake batter. “No clue? Anything but pink, it's been done too
much,” I replied. “How about red?” suggested my aunt across the
kitchen. “You can't be serious! Do you want me to look like a giant
tomato?” I yelled back. Later that evening, my color options were
narrowed to the color peach. Now that I had decided on the perfect
color, we had to decide on what the dress would look like, where we
would acquire this dress from, and of course the cost.
“I don't want one of those puffy
dresses like those other girls!” I told my cousin who had come to
visit the family. “It would be problematic to move around all those
people in a huge dress,” I shrugged. While sitting in our old worn
out brown sofa, my mother suggested, “How about you have your
cousin sew you a dress; she's a seamstress after all.” The idea
sounded rather good to me. In a blink of an eye, I found myself in
the center of our white tiled living room having my measurements
taken by my personal seamstress, my cousin. About two weeks later she
came back, this time with a large party bag decorated with an image
of an elegant young women dressed in a formal Victorian style dress
and the words “Para la Quinceañera” printed on the outside of
the bag. Inside of it was a carefully folded dress. It was the dress
of my dreams, I began to weep. The dress had been fashioned out of a
shimmery peach colored fabric. The hems of the skirt reached to my
ankles while the top portion resembled a corset. She had also added
wide straps for comfort and a matching “Bolero jacket” to cover
my bare shoulders and back.
With the dress all done, we moved on
to the accessories for the soon to be “Quinceañera”. We visited
several shops and found the traditional diamond incrusted tiara with
a matching necklace. However we lacked one thing, the perfect pair of
heels. Being a tall girl means having extremely large feet. I wear a
size ten. For most of my life, I had only worn sneakers and flip -
flops. I had no idea how to properly walk in this “life endangering
footwear”. Owning a pair of high heels never really crossed my
mind, not in until a couple of days before the party.
My family and I visited several shoe
stores, always finding the right style but never the right fit.
“Welcome to blah-blah shoes can I help find your perfect pair?”
said an older woman with the largest insincere smile, big puffy red
hair and a face smeared with heavy make-up. This had been store
number fourteen; I was hungry, and had given all hope in finding the
perfect pair of heels. “Yes, we are to looking for some nice formal
dress shoes for my daughter’s Quinceañera” said my mom for the
fourteenth time still with the same sense of pride as when we first
began our search. ”Oh yes ma'am, can you please follow me “. We
followed her through the dimly lit, narrow aisle of the tiny shoe
store. The place reeked of foot odor and loud mariachi music played
on the speakers. “This is our Palace Princess collection; we have a
variety of styles, colors and sizes” said the woman with her best
T.V host voice. “Not another sales pitch!” I began to think while
I scanned the whole store expecting to find something to distract me.
Right away I was seated on a small stool and handed several boxes of
shoes to try on. I was reluctant to try any of the shoes. I stared
into my mother’s big brown eyes half expecting her to say we should
move on to the next store. “Hurry, missy we don't have all day your
father has been up since 4 A.M and he wants to go home and rest. To
avoid any arguments I gave in to my mother's request and began
placing my aching feet inside an obviously used strappy heel. I began
to make up excuses for each pair of shoes placed in front of me. The
sales woman was determined to sell us the product and hand us a
booklet and suggested us to order of the catalog.
We walked out of the shop; I felt a
sense of relief of to breathe fresh air. My mother’s face no longer
carried the same enthusiasm as before; she now carried her head
closer to the ground as we walked to our forest green Chevy Silverado
truck. We had been at it since nine in the morning and the sun had
already set on my dream of finding the perfect pair of heels. In my
mind, I imagined Prince Charming searching for me with glass slippers
but he was too late and this modern Cinderella had to retire back
into her tower.
That night I closed my eyes and began
to dream, I saw myself standing in front of the church alter
wearing my perfect dress, with my hair very intricately curled. The
Pastor now stood on the platform and began praying and giving thanks
to God for allowing me to live up to this very special date. As the
prayer ended, I turned around to face the congregation and loud
applause erupted followed by an avalanche of loud mean- spirited
laughter and whispering. Confused on what was happening, I looked
down at the crowd and noticed a little girl pointing at my feet.
Slowly my eyes followed the contours of my dress until I reach my
feet and noticed I was wearing outrageously big, ruby red, plastic
clown shoes.
“Wake up!” my mother cried as she
entered my bedroom. It had been a nightmare, yet the image of those
red clown shoes were now impregnated into my mind. “I have to make
a payment at Kohl's, and was wondering if you wanted to join me and
your dad.” murmured my mom as she realized that I still trying to
wake-up. The car drive seemed to last for an eternity, as I stared at
the window watching the cars passing by. When we arrived in the
parking lot, I noticed a great red banner with bold white letters
draped over the building next to Kohl’s. The banner declared
“Famous Footwear Now Open”. I figured one more shoe store
wouldn’t do me any harm. So I dragged my mother through the glass
doors of the new shoe store. The place was spacious and sleek
looking. Thousands of shoes were laid out on display. As we went down
the aisles my mother warned ,“If we don’t find those shoes here,
you’ll have to wear flip-flops.” I ignored her, and then suddenly
we stopped in the clearance section of the store. I skimmed the shoe
racks and from the corner of my eye I noticed a shoe with the
identical color of my dress. My heart began to race as held my breath
to reach for the plain white shoe box. There it was the perfect
peach color pointed toe kitten heel in a size 10! My jaw dropped. I
couldn’t believe my eyes; was this miracle I had been praying for?
I held the box like a newborn baby and carried it to the cashier.
“Did you find everything you need today?” said the handsome young
cashier. “Yes I did!” I said. I handed him the box and he gently
scanned it on the scanner. “Blip” sounded the computer “Your
total today will be $8.37” said the cashier. I had been so much in
a hurry that I didn’t even notice the price. This only sweetened
even more the deal.
The day of my Quinceañera came and
went. It was beautiful, the food was delicious and the ceremony made
many faces tear up. I received several compliments on my gown;
several guest ask me where I had purchased it. I replied that it was
a custom made dress by a very special designer. Ironically, no one
really notice my shoes !
What I learned that day was beyond my
journey of finding the perfect pair of footwear. It was the
importance of family, faith and continuously keeping hope when all
seems dark. Even if I had entered the church barefoot, it wouldn’t
even matter. What mattered was giving thanks to God for another year
of life.
