DATE: Saturday, May 10, 1997                TAG: 9705100285
SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B1   EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA 

SOURCE: Anne Saita

                                            LENGTH:   78 lines

THE TALE OF A DRESS THAT BECAME AN EVENT

It wasn't for me that I registered for a room at a historic, five-star hotel in downtown Richmond, my wallet weighed down with cash to be disbursed rather liberally for the next 12 hours.

Nor could I claim responsibility for the new purse, expensive undergarments, designer shoes and Lowenthal Furriers bag that I brought to match my surroundings.

I did it for the dress.

This was no ordinary outfit. Not to me, at least. I found it in a catalog, pondered its price - $150 with shipping and handling - and solicited advice from friends all over the world.

People cast votes from Virginia, Alaska, California, Knoxville, New York, Atlanta, Germany and The Netherlands. My male friends all said it wasn't worth it; my female friends all said it was.

Fortunately, I have more female friends.

I have bought $150 dresses in the past, but always on sale. My silk-and-lace wedding dress, I realized, ran me only $20 more.

According to the catalog, now was the time to ``surrender to your giddiest whims and the irrepressible allure of a breezy little dress. One that barely skims the top of your knees with its flippy, fluttery skirt. Curves wherever you do, with its sensuous bias cut. And brightens your winter-drab wardrobe with a sunny print in butterscotch, apricot, aubergine and chalk blue on cream.''

I don't own anything in aubergine, I told my husband as I headed defiantly for the phone with my credit card.

Much to my surprise, thousands of other women also had been seduced by the fruit print and georgette rayon. The dress was on back order.

It did not arrive in time for a newspaper reunion in Harrisonburg. It did not make it for Easter. It even missed a soiree last month in Norfolk.

When I finally did get the dress, I knew no ordinary debut would do. So, after landing an assignment in Richmond, I called The Jefferson hotel for a reservation.

Built in 1895, The Jefferson looks like a castle, and its guests are made to feel like royalty - some of them actually are. The hotel has hosted some of the most influential people in contemporary history, many of whom regularly wear threads far more impressive than mine.

Thick marble columns and regal-colored rugs lead to an extravagant stairway rumored to have been used in ``Gone With The Wind.'' At the top is a large lobby with a statue of the hotel's namesake in the center. Above Jefferson is a huge, dazzling stained-glass skylight.

The staff made sure my every need was met, and each person did so with convincing friendliness.

If I asked for an item, they'd bring me three. When I asked for directions, they offered a ride. Heading into an adjacent parking lot, I couldn't reach the ticket machine from inside my low-riding car. A doorman coming on duty turned around and did it for me.

Soon the time came to finally slip into the dress and head to a musical playing at The Carpenter Center.

Sheathed in such refined rayon, I couldn't help but feel like a well-worn sweater that had been given a new lease on life after being soaked in some invigorating solution.

I really did feel giddy and whimsical, so much so that after returning to the hotel just before 11, I decided to get a little more mileage from the dress and roamed the building with a goblet of ice water in my hand. I did get some stares.

Earlier, while I was under the influence of the dress, a housekeeper had come in to turn down my bed. We talked while she worked, and I repeatedly called her Sunny after glancing at a card she'd left on the nightstand.

Imagine how I felt the morning after, when I carefully examined the card and realized ``Sunny'' had referred to the day's predicted weather.

Still, it took me a couple of days to come down off the high I'd experienced on my trip. And as I fell back to earth, I started to wonder if it had been worth it.

The bills for this fairy tale adventure have started to show up in the mail. But so has another catalog.

There's this ``gossamer-light mirage of a dress that moves about you like a lilting summer breeze.'' It costs even more than the dress I just bought, but it has a ``sensuously long flow of soothing rayon strewn with muted apricot, plum, tangerine and ruby-red blossoms.''

I don't own anything with ruby-red blossoms.

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