[winston optic beer]

Many years ago, around the time we were first married, my wife and I visited a posh dress shop in a mall, as you call them in the US. She might have been looking for her wedding dress or a ball gown, I can't remember now. I do recall that everything was expensive and the lady assistant was falling over herself to be helpful. My wife had looked at numerous dresses and picked some that might be suitable. There was discussion about wearing a special bra or not needing one at all due to the off the shoulder designs.

Just as I was starting to get bored with the whole business, she went into the changing cubicle to try some on. The assistant told her she needn't worry about whether they fitted her because they were always altered or ordered in another size. She came in and out of the cubicle in a succession of dresses to look in the mirror and ask what the assistant and I thought of them on her. There was an oldish guy hanging about waiting for some reason and he smiled sympathetically at me patiently waiting and offering advice.

Eventually she came out in an off the shoulder dress that she hadn't dared zip up for fear of causing damage. If she was wearing anything underneath at all, it was just a flimsy thong but there was certainly no bra. The dress was completely open at the back and sides all the way down to her bum. She was trying unsuccessfully to keep her boobs in the dress with one arm while the other was occupied keeping the lower part off the floor. Nevertheless, it was the one she wanted to buy.

With all her attention on the dress rather than what she might be revealing to the guy and any window shoppers, she checked herself in the mirror turned around a couple of times to demonstrate something. The assistant gamely tried to work out exactly how the dress needed adjusting. Every now and again the front on the dress would fall away due its weight and she had to push it back up. During all of this, I was expected to give a measured view of the suitability of the dress taking account of the fact the final item would fit properly.

I didn't dare tell her I loved it exactly as it was. By this point the old guy could take no more and moved away slightly and tried to turn his back on us (there wasn't really anywhere for him to go). Perhaps he was embarrassed or just being polite, but to me he appeared to be totally creased up trying to supress laughter.