My ballgown is the bright midnight blue color of the dress I wore New Year’s Eve eight years ago but it is silk, both slubby and sparkly. It is cut like Nicole Miller’s Ashley wedding gown, flowing smoothly over my smooth tummy and round tush before gracefully releasing to a soft swirl. I might wear the blue scarf with silver metallic threads that I wore that year.
My shoes can be any height, but they are comfortable for dancing. My partner is one of those magic men who doesn’t give obvious directions, but you find yourself syncing with him and whirling and twirling without a care, because he’s doing all the work. We dance and dance and dance.
