My daughter wanted a designer prom dress that I couldn’t afford and rejected the dress I made for her, calling me useless.
I love my daughter and wanted the best for her.
I wanted her to have a better life, a better start than I had, and I believe I succeeded, even if she probably won’t agree with me.
My husband and I divorced when she was nine years old.
He left me for a rich older woman, so I raised my Hannah alone.
My ex-husband picks her up every weekend and brings her into a luxurious world that I can’t provide for her.
It’s hard to compete with that, and honestly, I don’t even try.
The conflict escalated in her last year of high school when she told me she wanted a certain prom dress from a famous designer – something that cost three times my modest salary.
Of course, I said no.
I explained to her that we couldn’t afford it, but I promised her that I would make her an equally beautiful dress, a unique one that no one else would have.
She frowned and muttered that maybe she should stay with her father and Rita (his new wife).
The next day I came home with a few fabric swatches and showed them to Hannah.
Her best friend Amy was there and she really liked the fabrics and ideas I showed her.
But my daughter wasn’t impressed.
‘It’s going to be disgusting, Mum!’ – she screamed and threw the drawings on the floor.
‘It’s stupid!’
‘Honey,’ I said, “I based it on a dress worn by Audrey Hepburn, it’s retro and elegant! Retro is cool, right?”
Amy nodded vigorously, but Hannah shouted: ‘Retro is cool, but this is just HORRIBLE!’
She ran out and I could hear her sobbing while talking to her dad.
Amy gave me a hug before she left.
She’s a sweet girl and is worried after her mum died.
She whispered to me, ‘Don’t worry, Hannah will still change her mind!’
And she did change her mind, just a little.
She let me take her measurements for the dress and even wore it for the first time, not too perturbed.
Unfortunately, her concession didn’t last long.
A week later she came home and tossed me an advertising booklet.
I picked it up and read it: it announced the prom, the date and theme of the event.
At the bottom, in bold letters, it said, ‘Prize for the most original prom dress!’
‘Read it!’ – she shouted.
‘Best original prom dress!’
“Hannah, yours is going to be completely original!
No one will have one like yours…” – I pointed out.
‘Original doesn’t mean cheesy and homemade,’ she shouted.
“I’m going to call Daddy and HE’s going to buy me a decent prom dress.
He’s not a worthless loser like YOU!”
I admit, I sat down at the kitchen table and cried.
I had put my heart into that dress and now it would never be worn.
I was still crying when Hannah ran out of the house and announced that she was going shopping with Daddy.
I looked at the light blue satin dress I’d made, with hundreds of beads of different sizes sparkling on the wide skirt, the narrow bodice and heart-shaped neckline.
It was so beautiful.
I had never worn anything so beautiful.
Three hours later Hannah returned, laden with several large bags from expensive boutiques.
Solemnly she smiled at me:
‘I found the IDEAL dress,’ she said, ‘With no thanks to you!’
What you dismiss as useless can easily be the greatest treasure for someone else.
A little later Amy came in and said hello to me before running up the stairs to Hannah’s “perfect dress”.
I sighed and looked at the blue dress.
‘I’ll finish it,’ I said to myself, ‘even if she doesn’t want it.’
So I sat down with the dress in my lap, glittering silver and blue, and began to stitch it carefully with the smallest of stitches.
I had just begun when Amy came down the stairs.
‘Oh,’ she ahhed, ‘Is that the dress you made?’
I smiled and spread it out so Amy could see it.
‘Yeah, what do you think?’ – I asked.
Amy stepped closer and touched the gathers studded with beads.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ she whispered, ‘I wish I could…’
She shook her head, and tears ran down her cheeks.
‘Amy,’ I said, ‘What happened?’
Amy whispered: ‘I wish my mum would make me a dress like that.’
‘Amy, I would be proud if you wore that dress,’ I told her, and suddenly she hugged me, crying.
Amy put the dress on, and it sat on her like a submissive.
‘All you need are shoes,’ I said, ‘And you’ll look like a dream!’
On prom night, Hannah came down the stairs in an elegant red velvet dress that I thought was too revealing and inappropriate for her skin tone.
She wore an expensive pair of very high heels and a sparkling red handbag.
She looked beautiful, but the dress was too ‘grown up’ for her, although I didn’t tell her that.
I said she looked adorable and she coldly replied, ‘No thanks to you!’
A few minutes later Amy and her companion came in, and with them Hannah’s companion.